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astyle-alex · 3 years

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[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Museum Mishap | Chapter 5/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

|| Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon ||

Museum Mishap Chapter 5: Checking Up

Dick is the first to notice something’s different about Jason.

Which is fair, because even though Bruce is the first person to see Jason after he wakes up on Saturday, a full 27 hours after being rescued from Sabini (ten of which he’d spent sleeping peacefully in his own bed instead of the Cave’s infirmary) – and even though Alfred is the first person to talk to him after he comes downstairs for breakfast – the bulk of what is actually noticeably different about Jason is aimed directly at Dick.

Literally.

Because Jason is starting.

At Dick.

From across his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast piled high with strawberry preserves instead of the peach marmalade Dick likes and has on his own plate, Jason is staring. At Dick. Directly.

He’s not even glaring at him, he’s just… watching.

Which actually makes Dick more self-conscious than if Jason had been glaring, makes him think he’s done something wrong. Something especially wrong.

Dick had never asked for a little brother, and to be perfectly honest he could admit that he hadn’t exactly been very nice to the one he’d acquired unexpectedly. While he had concrete and valid reasons to be pissed at Bruce for how he’d handled things, Dick wasn’t quite self-centered enough to miss how he hadn’t done right by Jason either.

He’d screwed up their relationship in the beginning and now he spent most of his time trying to avoid making it worse. Which meant most simply that he spent most of his time straight up avoiding it…

The longest span of time Dick had spent alone in a room with Jason since storming off to California a few weeks before his sixteenth birthday – to go be Robin with people who appreciated him and his skill and his right to wear the R, because it was his and always would be – was about the length of a Star Wars movie. The longest they’d spent together without such a specific and effective distraction was about twenty minutes.

In which Alfred usually checked in on them halfway through.

Because Jason does deserve the R.

And he’s always resented that the older brother he’d never asked for thought he didn’t.

Which isn’t exactly true, but Dick has never been able to explain that before Jason – brilliantly observant, woefully astute, and brutally willing to cut to the quick as he was – said something that made Dick get defensive. Which is when the yelling always started.

And the quiet moments in between the yelling had always been punctuated by glaring.

But now Jason is staring – and distinctly not glaring – and Dick doesn’t know what he did, or what he should do now. So, he sits in silence and plays with his eggs and worries.

Because something is different about Jason this morning, and he doesn’t know why – or what it has to do with him. Or what Jason thinks it has to do with him.

Because if Jason’s pissed with him for not getting to him quicker last night, for not jumping in earlier – early enough to stop Sabini from breaking his leg perhaps – then Jason would already be yelling. But he’s not. He’s staring.

And Dick doesn’t know what to do.

“Do you have a driver’s license?”

Dick is so startled by the question he nearly drops his fork.

Actually, he does drop it. He just manages to catch it before it skitters off the counter.

“B won’t let me in the Cave with my leg and Alf won’t let me have the keys to any cars topside until I’m legal,” Jason explains – without explaining anything.

“Yeah, I’ve got my license.”

Dicks voice doesn’t squeak or waver. He’s moderately certain that some sort of magic or robotic voice replacement tech is behind the phenomenon. Or maybe his Robin conditioning is finally proving useful outside of the dark allies where his calm could comfort victims.

Jason nods. He’s still staring.

But now he’s squinting, evaluative. Not quite a glare, but closer.

“Cool. Can you drive me somewhere after breakfast?”

Dick nods. He decides not to ask to ask why Jason isn’t asking Alfred to drive him.

He also decides not to ask where Jason wants to go until they’re already in the car.

They don’t speak again until after Dick pulls into the circle at the end of the Drake Estate’s mile-long driveway, and even then, it’s just a gruff C’mon to hurry Dick along while Jason hauls himself out of the car on his own.

Dick is slightly distracted as he cuts the engine. He nods to Jason – who’s paying him zero attention – as he marvels openly at the fact that they do, apparently, have neighbors.

The Drake mansion isn’t quite a massive or effortlessly grand as Wayne Manor, but it’s a decently imposing imitation. There’s wealth here, excess. And no hint of the soft touch that Alfred has to bring a human element into the aching chill of life with money.

Dick wants to ask what they’re doing here, of all places, but Jason is focused.

It’s a feat for Jason to wrestle his crutches out of the car and limp his way up the wide steps of the ostentation front stair, but he manages. He does it without even making Dick feel terrible about not offering to help – though he knows if he did offer, Jason’s only response would be to curse and try to whack him with the pointy end of his crutches.

Dick follows silently up the stairs after him and waits as Jason rings the doorbell impatiently, pressing it again after only a few seconds of silence.

He’s not quite scowling at the Drakes’ front door, but he’s not smiling either. Whatever he’s thinking about is serious enough to warrant asking Dick for help instead of Alfred. Dick is definitely concerned by that, but there a hopeful anxiousness twisting in him too.

Because Jason needed help, and he asked Dick to provide it.

It’s not much, but it’s something.

Jason’s leaning on the doorbell again when Dick hears a shuffling inside that indicates someone coming to check the matter. Dick hopes it’s not an elderly butler – Alfred moves around pretty well for his age, but it’s a big house and it takes even him a minute to get to the door on the bizarre occasion Wayne Manor has unexpected security-approved visitors.

The Drakes’ equivalent can’t possibly be as light-footed or quick and Dick wants to tell Jason that it’s not whoever’s fault that it takes a while getting from one end of a mansion to the other on a Saturday morning for an unanticipated guest.

There’s the sound of the lock being turned, but the door doesn’t open immediately.

Jason is about to lean on the bell again – and Dick is seriously considering how counter-productive it will be to stop him from being overly rude – when the knob finally spins and the massive solid-wood structure sweeps inward.

Dick plasters a smile on his face and –

It’s the kid from Thursday night.

Dick’s whole being freezes.

It’s the kid that took a beating because Sabini thought he knew something about Batman.

Dick is stuck in a sudden mental rut of wondering why this kid – and Dick know he’s a tough one, he’s seen it, but he’s a head shorter than Jason and probably weighs as much as Dick’s leg and he’s just survived a torturous kidnapping and should be on bedrest with soup and blankets and stuffed animals – why this kid is answering his own door.

Especially in a house like this. His family is clearly rich beyond reason and could have a flurry of staff to care for the household’s daily needs and to fawn sweetly over the poor injured young master. So why is he answering the door?

When his door costs as much as the entire Trailer the Flying Graysons called home in Haly’s Circus. When there are still bruises on his face where Sabini’s fingers gripped him that haven’t quite gone ugly and greenish from healing. When the butterfly bandage on his cheek is still the only thing holding the skin together beneath the antiseptic goo.

Jason’s brain is clearly doing the same acrobatics as Dicks, asking questions it’s not really keen on getting answered because the answers can’t be good, but Jason recovers faster.

Which is good because the Drake boy – Timmy, Dick remembers, except no, that’s just what Jason called him, he introduced himself as Tim in his brief moment of lucidity on Friday morning – is looking between the pair on his doorstep like one of the rescue dogs Dick remembers Haly bringing into the circus fold on their first days of being treated well.

They were cautious and skittish and quick to shy away, but also a little bit awed by the care and attention being paid to them – slightly overwhelmed to say the least. And Tim Drake is clearly in a similar state of mind.

Dick is frozen on the doorstep.

Tim is frozen in the doorway.

Jason falters too, but only for a moment. Then he’s using his crutches to nudge Tim out of the way, so he can swing himself through the door and into the Drakes’ imposing foyer.

Dick follows.

Tim remembers to close the door – and lock it too, with a sturdy deadbolt that Dick knows will provide actual security – and then shuffles after Dick and Jason.

Silent on his feet – impressive, given the floppy sneakers he’s wearing – Tim allows Jason to lead the way through the mansion’s sprawl to its kitchen. Tim is watching Jason’s back as he swings forward on his crutches, which gives Dick time to look around the mansion as they walk. He knows Jason’s scoping the place out too, and he’s glad Jason can manage it with that subtle street-wise skill he’s got ingrained. Dick could probably be subtle – he was trained by Batman – but he’s finding it hard to rein in the reaction he’s having to the place.

It’s absolutely sterile here.

More like a museum than like a house.

Nothing looks soft, or like it’s meant for people to sit on, and the few chairs and cushions Dick has clocked as they move through the sprawl don’t look like anyone has ever used them. There’s not a speck of dust, but honestly that just makes it worse. There are people that come through here, in order to clean it at least, but nobody lives here.

“What’re you saying about your face,” Jason asks bluntly when he stumbles upon the masterwork that is the Drake kitchen. Dick can tell that finding the kitchen has help Jason relax a little, that being in a place that’s meant to be sterile has helped at least as much as the prospect of diving into the soothing rhythm of cooking, but Tim doesn’t pick up on Jason’s new degree of ease and relax himself. If anything, he tenses more.

“I’m going to say that I tried to launch a rocket in the back yard and it blew up in my face,” Tim explains. He watches as Jason moves to investigate his fridge.

He notes when Jason stiffens, flinches as he realizes what he just said to prompt it, and he whips his head around when Dick is the one to speak up about it. “You’re ‘going to say’?”

Dick knows the way he blurted it in aching disbelief is rude. Not calm. Not helpful.

But he’s lost sensation in his limbs and his stomach is still sinking towards the center of the earth at supersonic speeds.

They had dropped Tim back into his bed at 2pm on Friday afternoon, once Bruce had convinced Alfred that he was stable and well on his way to healing. That was almost 20 hours ago. Dick’s stomach churns as he realizes that no one’s been to check on him in almost a full day.

Tim survived a brutal beating, and he’s been dealing with the mental fallout of his kidnapping – not to mention the physical aspects of his recovery – entirely alone.

Dick is staring at Tim, wide-eyed and worried, and he knows it isn’t helping as Tim looks down and toes at the marble floor.

“Mrs. Simz doesn’t work on Fridays,” he mumbles. “She thinks I spend Friday nights with my school’s chess club.”

Jason snorts. “Of course, she does. That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

He pauses. Anyone but Dick probably wouldn’t be able to catch the way he steels himself and forces down a mix of rage and worry before he asks lightly, “Hey, kid, you got any flour hiding in this joint? Baking soda?”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna make pancakes, obviously,” Jason replies, shouldering open the fridge and pulling out milk and eggs. He spreads his haul on the island and shoots Dick a look that he hopes means that he should start investigating the Drake cabinets for mixing bowls and a griddle and such. Because that’s what Dick starts doing.

“Pancakes?”

“Yeah, they’re kinda like pizza – you eat them,” Jason replies, a gruff amusement in his voice that tells Dick there’s some sort of inside joke involved.

Dick wants to think that there’s no part of the joke where he should be legitimately concerned that Tim doesn’t eat, but he also remembers how easy it was to pick the kid up when they rescued him. Sure, he’s only twelve, but Dick is fairly certain that he weighed at least twice what Tim does when he was twelve. Comparing him to Jason – even the emaciated twelve year old Jason that had first been brought to the Manor – would be too tragic to let him keep the smile on his face, so Dick consciously fights the urge.

Tim jumps in to help direct Dick and Jason around his kitchen, Tim acting as Jason’s legs while Jason barks orders. Dick didn’t know Jason could cook, but he’s not as surprised as he thought he’d be – even when Jason whips out the fancy tricks like cracking the eggs one-handed and twirling his spatula as he times the flips perfectly.

Butter and syrup appear on the island as Dick tries to help put the finishing touches on their meal. It’s been over an hour since breakfast, so Dick can definitely eat – and he knows Jason is probably already starving. Tim is looking at the looming stack of pancakes warily, however, and Dick is pleased with himself for not shooting Jason a worried look.

It gets even harder to resist when they actually settle down to eat and Tim expends a painstaking amount of effort on arranging the careful stack of pancakes on his plate instead of making any move to dig in.

“So, Timmy,” Jason says around a mouthful of pancakes, “Find any cool new toys since you’ve been home playin’ with your rocket?”

Both confused, Dick and Tim look blankly at Jason – who rolls his eyes. Then he taps his ear and makes a wide gesture about the kitchen. He’s asking if Tim’s found any Bat bugs.

Dick knows Batman must’ve left some – Tim was suspected of knowing his secrets for a reason, after all, and Bruce would certainly want to keep tabs on any future developments that might potentially occur. What Dick does not know is why Jason’s asking Tim if he found any listening devices hidden in his home – why he’s referencing the plausible option so casually, so openly. Unless… unless Tim knows.

Scandalized, Tim looks between Jason and Dick – redness creeping up his neck until his ears are bright ruby – and then stares down at his pancakes. He nods.

Like he’s pulling teeth, Jason waits a beat to make sure Tim is still alive and then asks with the same casual air, “Find any in here?”

This time, Tim shakes his head, still staring resolutely at his pancakes – and still making no move to actually eat them.

Jason nods, satisfied.

Tim waits, but Jason doesn’t say anything else.

Eventually, peeks up. Looks at Jason. Waits.

Then he slowly, sheepishly turns his head to look at Dick. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the accusations and yelling to start. Tim does know their secret, and he expects to be in serious trouble for it.

Jason levels his own look at Dick, daring him to break the tenuous trust they’ve developed in the last few hours by voicing any sort chastisement.

When they’d first brought Jason and Tim back to the Cave, Batman had been on Jason about getting to the truth of the rumors around Tim – to the point of absurdity, considering that there were two traumatized and injured kids to care for, considering that Jason himself was being questioned before Batman would give his broken leg the medical attention it needed…

Dick had spoken up in defense of Jason – asserting his own opinion that Tim was ignorant of the secret that got him wrapped up in this mess – mostly because he was pissed at Bruce for being so callous. Dick knew that Bruce cared, that he cared so much he buried all of his feelings deep beneath an impenetrable layer of cold practicality so he could deal with the pragmatic details of resolving the situation.

But it was really hard to remember that he cared when it felt more like he wanted answers in his own interrogation rather than to help the adopted son he’d just rescued from a drug-lord who’d been asking the same questions.

But Dick had defended Jason’s stand against Bruce.

At the time, he hadn’t realized Jason was lying – that Bruce honestly did have a valid reason to worry about Tim’s ability to threaten Batman’s secrets. He knew Jason wasn’t being entirely honest, but he’d brushed it off as embarrassment at getting caught and needing rescue.

Knowing what he does now, that Tim is aware of much more than he should be, Dick isn’t certain he would’ve made the same call. On the one hand, he wants to trust his brother’s judgement – to stay focused on Tim as a victim rather than a threat – but he also feels the urge to trust his mentor’s trend of caution, because if Tim threatens Bruce’s secrets he’s also threatening Dick’s. And Jason’s. And possibly Barbara, and the Titans, and any other mask they’ve ever worked with… Tim could be very dangerous if Jason’s wrong about trusting him.

But Tim is waiting to be yelled at – waiting to face the good guys’ wrath for simply being clever. And Dick had seen the R on Tim’s sweater. He’s a fan, and he’s been clever, and he’d taken one hell of a beating for a twelve year old kid to be expected to handle.

And he hadn’t talked.

It was more than Dick would’ve expected from most grown-ups. It was as much or even more than he’d expect from adults trained to withstand interrogation.

If Dick needed proof that Tim wasn’t a threat, that was it.

Tim was still staring at him – waiting for his anger. Waiting to be punished.

Jason was staring too – waiting for a reason to get angry himself.

Resolved to let Tim continue to fly under Batman’s radar, Dick doesn’t say anything. He just takes another bite of his pancakes. The bite goes down easier than he expects, validation that his gut trusts Tim on a level beyond instinctual. Something more like kinship.

Tim keeps staring – like he doesn’t quite recognize what it means that Dick is just going on with eating like a major secret affecting both of their lives hasn’t just been exposed – but Jason relaxes. He even flashes Dick what could pass for a smile.

It makes Dick feel like he’s made the right decision all over again.

He’s got very little good history with Jason, but he’s working on his own issues and he thinks that, just maybe, he and Jason can work with this – can use Tim’s hush-hush existence as a bit of common ground to try standing by each other instead of against each other.

Tim is still staring, though.

Still waiting, still worried, still convinced that he’s in trouble.

“Pancakes not to your liking, Tim?” Dick asks, flashing him a grin. It’s not the dazzling, thousand-watt smile that’s always made him shine as a media darling, but it’s still bright and teasing enough to startle Tim. And genuine.

Jason growls before Tim recovers, retorting, “Hey, my pancakes are fantastic, asshole.”

Dick gives a shrug, his smiling building as he feels out Jason’s grumble and realizes that there’s almost no real malice in it – none of the gritty defensiveness he’s used to from Jason.

“They’re, um, great,” Tim replies in a squeak.

With another snort, Jason says, “You haven’t even tried them yet.”

He reaches across the island and swoops a smear of butter onto Tim’s topmost pancake, giving the terrified youngster a mild heart attack. He pushes the syrup across the table with his fork – it’s good stuff, real maple in a ceramic jug – until it clicks pointedly against Tim’s plate.

“Eat.”

Tim picks up his fork, obedient but still anxious and pushes a few bites around before he finally picks one up and forces it into his mouth and down his throat.

Watching as Tim swallows and waiting until it looks like he might take another bite of his own volition, Jason says, “You gotta relax, Timmers. We’re the frickin good guys.”

Dick gives a supportive smile as Tim forces himself to nod.

His eyes jump guiltily to Dick for a moment but then he settles and takes another bite of his pancakes. This time he looks much less like he wants to throw the food back up immediately.

“How’s, um, how’s your leg,” Tim asks. Guilty, which makes Dick’s lungs tighten, but at least he’s speaking up – which means he might be able to be convinced he’s not at fault.

“It’s good,” Jason replies with a shrug. “I’ve gotta stay off it completely for the next week, and I’m benched for the next three, at least, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Dick snorts. “You’re supposed to stay off it for three weeks,” Dick counters automatically. He lets himself fall into older-brother over-dive to add, “And B wants to keep you benched for the next two months. Alf might actually put you in a coma if he sees you trying to go down to the Cave before the cast comes off.”

With a shrug, Jason says, “So like two weeks and we call it even.”

Dick tries to claw back the sigh that’s threatening to cut off all his air.

“It was a pretty bad break,” Tim pipes up. He looks slightly guilt-ridden, but he forges on to add, “But it was direct contact to the bone, instead of to a joint, and I’m guessing it was a stable, simple tibia fracture – no skin penetration or muscle tears – and it was either transverse or very slightly oblique, so it should heal cleanly.”

“Not if he bungs it up by trying to do cartwheels on it too quickly,” Dick counters.

“I’m gonna leave the cartwheeling to you, Dickiebird,” Jason replies with a chuckle that’s warm and teasing and so much nicer than the conversations he’s used to having with Jason.

It almost sounds like they’re just talking about your average sports injury, and Tim even joins in a few more times as the discussion shifts to Dick and his penchant for cartwheeling down the long halls of Wayne Manor. Tim’s a fan of the Flying Graysons, and after a little figuring, Dick actually remembers meeting him before – before the show for a picture and a hug and a somersault promise, before Zucco, before his parents fell… before life got so complicated.

Dick and Jason and Tim stay gathered around the island in the Drakes’ kitchen until Tim has completely finished his plate of pancakes without needing to have Jason force him through each bite. And they stay an hour after they’ve cleaned up, and an hour after that too.

They stay until Alfred sends Dick a text to warn him that Bruce is getting antsy with their absence, antsy enough to start wondering where they’ve gone.

Tim looks sad as they start gearing up to head back to the Manor, but Jason assures him that they’ll be back tomorrow – and after school on Monday, assuming Tim actually goes to school on Monday. Neither vigilante would blame him if he wanted to take a day off.

“Why?”

“Because you got beat up by a drug-lord,” Jason told him with a gruff, but affectionate exasperation Dick can hardly believe he’s hearing from the ill-tempered teenager, “That totally warrants a fucking vacation day or two.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, I mean why are you gonna come here? Why’re you here at all, if I’m not in trouble for… you know.” He mumbles through most of the words, falling back into the timid little thing he was when he first saw Dick and Jason standing at his door.

It’s only now that Dick realizes how much he’d managed to come out of that shell.

“We’re checking up on you, baby bird,” Jason huffs, “Duh.”

“But why?”

Tim stands there like the question is perfectly innocent, like it’s not one of the most heartbreaking thing Dick has ever been asked.

If Jason didn’t have a broken leg and crutches to wrestle with, Dick is sure that Tim would be trapped under Jason’s arm getting his hair mussed beyond all possible repair. As it stands, Jason looks halfway to smacking Tim with one of his crutches.

Or smacking whoever made him feel like his current state of being is somehow one that is in any way an acceptable situation for a child.

But Dick smiles and slings an arm around Jason’s shoulders.

“Because we’re Robins,” he says, promising, “And that’s what we do.”

There’s a pause.

And then Tim nods, smiling back in a way that makes Dick’s limbs feel gooey as he goes all warm and fuzzy. He can feel Jason lean into his side, can see that he’s smiling too – not as broadly as Dick is, but the expression is just as genuine. A bit surprised, perhaps, but happy.

The door closes behind them and Jason clambers into his side of the car without beating Dick with his crutches for helping. The drive back to the Manor is just as quick as the one away from it this morning, but not as quiet.

The Robins get themselves on a united platform about having gone to visit Drake as civilians – he’d recognized Jason as a Wayne and they’d gone to commiserate with Jason as a fellow victim of random, rumor fueled violence. They explain again to Bruce that Tim doesn’t know anything about Batman and latch onto Alfred’s concern that the boy’s parents are still out of the country. The Robins volunteer to go over and check on him tomorrow.

At Alfred’s insistence, they agree to spend most of the day there, and several days next week – and bring over some of Alfred’s amazing, high-nutrition cooking.

With all three of them set against Bruce in this, he relents to giving full approval to their plan – assuming that Nightwing patrols with Batman for the next three weeks while Robin remains obediently on bedrest.

The butler sides with Bruce on that one, but he gives the boys a wink behind Bruce’s back and it makes Dick get that warm and fuzzy glow again.

He’s halfway giddy all through that night’s patrol.

Batman notices.

But Dick doesn’t explain when he’s asked about it.

He just says that he and Jason are finally seeing eye to eye about what it means to hero in Gotham, to be Robin… to be a good Robin.

He smiles into the sunrise after a long night of beating up petty thugs on Gotham’s street corners – of looking into and utterly quashing any remaining rumors that Timothy Drake has any information on Batman. And maybe the throws a few extra flips into the maneuvers that carry him from rooftop to rooftop of Gotham’s city skyline.

It’s a beautiful day and Dick resolves to make the most of the chances he’s been given – however unfortunate the circumstances around them. The world is already a slightly better place, and Dick is determined to make it more so, bit by bit.

Because we’re Robins. And that’s what we do.

|| Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon ||

#BatFam #Batman #Batman & Robin #Jay x Tim #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Tim Drake #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson

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sage-nebula · 4 years

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Game Review — Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles Remastered Edition

About seventeen years ago, I played a Gamecube game called Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles, and for the most part I really loved it. I got lost in every single dungeon all the time, and I really hated the annoying moogle I had to drag around, but other than that I loved the game. So it makes sense, then, why I would be excited when I heard it was getting a remastered release on Switch.

Overall Score: 6/10

While I was happy to get a chance to play this game again, I feel like Square-Enix whacked both of its kneecaps in two different ways. One, they did a remaster instead of a remake, meaning they just gave it a little polish instead of fixing existing issues; and two, they decided for some reason to port it to mobile phones, which I feel created some issues, though I admit I don’t have any proof of that. While I still enjoyed my time with the game for the most part, it definitely receives a lower score than I think I would have given the original in my youth. More details under the cut, best viewed on my blog for formatting.

The Pros:

This isn’t specific to the remaster, but rather more about the game itself, but one thing I think is notable about the setting is that it’s essentially a post-apocalyptic story, but it’s one where the people haven’t completely fallen into despair and ruin. I mean, some places have; there’s a village called Tida whose caravan never returned and so they all died slow deaths of miasma as their crystal’s protection ran out. But in other villages, including the player’s hometown, people are living their lives as best they can. Some people are even trying to find a way to get rid of the miasma altogether. While of course there is much to stress about and also people’s memories being taken from them, overall the world looks a bit brighter than in most post-apocalyptic stories. It’s always nice when post-apocalyptic stories recognize that even after the end, life still goes on.

I’ve also always rather enjoyed the way the way the game constantly reminds you that you’re not the only caravan out on this journey. You encounter caravans from other towns and villages pretty often, and their stories intersect with yours, growing as the in-game years pass. It’s another thing that makes the world feel alive, because you see again and again that there are other heroes out there, heroes of their own stories, that you’re just one of many in this world trying your best to get by and keep your village alive.

The soundtrack is also something that deserves praise, because it has a very . . . Celtic, I think? flair to it that really suits the setting, especially since the narrator has (what I believe is) an Irish accent. I can’t think of a single bad song in the entire game, and many of them are catchy and bouncy and fun to listen to.

After each little cutscene or dungeon, you get an entry added to the in-game journal, and I enjoy those as well. It helps keep track of the little side stories going on (since they span over years), and I like how some of them change depending on the choices you’re given in any given cutscene. That said, I do have a slight issue with them as well, but I’ll discuss that in a different section.

If you play single-player, the game assigns a moogle named Mog to carry the crystal chalice through the dungeons with you so you don’t suffocate due to the miasma. (In multiplayer, another player has to carry it.) This results in Mog getting tired, saying, “I’m tired, kupo, it’s your turn!” and making you carry it sometimes anyway, even if you’re being chased by monsters. When I played this game as a kid, it seemed like he was saying this EVERY FIVE SECONDS and it was THE MOST annoying thing. But it didn’t feel as frequent this time, and when I looked it up, I saw that the devs actually did extend the amount of time Mog could carry the chalice before he got tired. I appreciated this very much, even if Mog was still annoying.

The Neutrals:

From what I can tell, there wasn’t really a graphics overhaul done, except to increase the jiggle physics on female Selkies, which . . . I’m not a prude, I don’t really care that much (even though it can be distracting), but of all the things you chose to fix, it was this? Square-Enix, please.

While on the one hand I like that there’s no set order that you can encounter the random travel cutscenes in, that they can happen whenever, because it makes it feel like a more realistic journey . . . it also creates the problem that the events will still trigger even if you’re already finished the associated quest line. For example, to get the Unknown Element that lets you reach the final boss area, you have to complete a series of actions in Lynari Desert. You find out what you have to do through a series of travel cutscenes with a swindler named Gurdy, who gives you poem verses that strongly hint at what you need to do. I had a few of these before I reached the desert, but not all of them, so I just looked up a guide to get the remainder of the instructions. Despite this, I still later triggered the final Gurdy cutscene, and so it was like my character was standing there with the desert treasure while Gurdy told her about the desert treasure . . . it’s not a huge deal, but it does show how the idea of having random travel cutscenes is kind of flawed. (Additionally, you can beat the game without even finishing certain stories as a result, so it’s entirely possible you could get to Mio and not know who she’s talking about in the end. It’s not game breaking, but it is a bit of an issue too.)

The Cons:

The LOADING TIMES, OH MY GOD. This game has the longest loading times of any game I have ever played on the Switch, and I confirmed with someone who has played the original a billion times that these loading time issues were not present in the original game, meaning they are a direct result of development on the “remaster.” Literally, the game goes to a blank loading screen that lasts a good minute or two for almost everything. For every cutscene you have, any time you leave or enter a place, hell, even QUITTING THE GAME has a “Closing Software” box for FAR LONGER than any other Switch title, to the point where it made me afraid for a moment that my Switch, brand new though it is, was broken. I don’t know why the loading times are so bad, but I personally blame it on Square-Enix wanting to make the game multiplatform (multiplatform including fucking cell phones), thus not optimizing it for any one console. And on a similar note . . .

Online multiplayer is region-locked. Yes, you read that right. Two friends who I’d originally intended to caravan with live in Europe, and since I live in North America, we were unable to play together since Square-Enix decided to region-lock online multiplayer. It is honestly the most batshit stupid thing I have ever heard of. The only reasoning I can think of for why they did this is because of mobile phone support; it’s entirely possible that there is something within a phone’s SIM card that would make it not possible to play multiplayer across different continents, but honestly I have trouble believing even that since I believe that’s not a problem in other mobile games. Either way, the entire point of online play is to be able to play with anyone, no matter where they are, and the fact that in the year 2020 Square-Enix decided it was a good idea to region-lock online play is fucking ridiculous.

A minor complaint, but you can’t use the left joystick to scroll between items in menus. You have to use the little arrow buttons instead. This was also the case in the Switch port of Final Fantasy XII, so I think it’s a Square-Enix preference thing, but it annoyed me and I wish they’d at least give the option to change button configuration around.

There’s backtracking as the years go on that I personally found kind of annoying, especially when it made me go to dungeons I didn’t particularly like. The thing is, the gameplay in FFCC doesn’t have a lot of variance; you go to three dungeons, you fight three bosses, then the year ends and you repeat it the next year. The only real variety is in the dungeons themselves as you get to explore new ones. But in Year 5, you HAVE to repeat dungeons because you’re blocked off from going to new areas. And at a certain point there stops being new dungeons altogether, so you have to repeat dungeons if you want to get myrrh for the village. And yeah, the dungeons are a bit harder each time, but the layout is still the same, and so it made what was already a repetitive style of gameplay even more repetitive, which honestly made me eager to finish it as quickly as possible despite wanting to grind as long as possible when I first got the game because I wanted to avenge my childhood self, who never managed to beat the final boss.

The four different races to choose from all have different styles of gameplay, and you can make multiple characters in one file to fill out your caravan / open specialty shops all around town. The problem is, the only character in the caravan who gets stat boosts and experience from the dungeons is the one who goes through them, and the dungeons get tougher each time they’re completed. So unless you constantly rotate your characters, creating more characters to fill out the caravan and be able to use different play styles per different boss (such as using a Yuke when facing a boss like Dragon Zombie who can really only be affected by magic) is a pointless waste of time because your extra characters won’t be strong enough to face the boss you need them to face. I don’t know if this was an issue in the original, but it’s definitely a disappointing issue here.

While some of the journal entries change depending on your answer choices, I found it disappointing that the journal entries don’t change (or at least don’t always) change depending on what type of character you chose to play as. The specific example I have in mind is that I chose to play as a Selkie, and through the course of the journey I of course traveled to Leuda, which is home of the Selkies. If you choose to play as a Selkie, you can participate in a minigame there and no one will steal from you. Additionally, since you see in various dungeons that Selkies have had a very rough time of it and for the longest time couldn’t put a home base anywhere, I had it in my head that my Selkie character would feel like she returned home, in a sense, even though she personally didn’t grow up in Leuda. I mean, this is the land of her people, this is where Selkie history is richest, this is the reward they got for all the suffering they experienced. (And sort of still do, since the other races tend to be prejudiced against them, and one Selkie in Leuda even says that he thinks everyone else wants Selkies to just disappear.) But despite all of this, the journal entry for Leuda states that the main character had their wallet stolen and never wants to go back. That sort of entry makes sense if you’re playing as one of the other three races, but it doesn’t fit Selkies at all and was pretty disappointing. That’s just one example, but I’m sure there were others, and it would have been nice if a bit more thought was put into play here.

All in all, I still think that Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles is a game worth playing. I really like the worldbuilding, as well as the characters, and I did have fun with it. With that said, though, I think that Square-Enix should have given this game a proper remake instead of a remaster, and should have made it a Switch exclusive (just as the original was a Gamecube exclusive) so that they could optimize it for the hardware, instead of being greedy and putting out one that didn’t play very well just so they could make cross-platform money. But despite those issues, if you want a unique action-RPG, I don’t think that FFCC’s remaster would be a bad choice to try out.

#2020 game reviews #final fantasy: crystal chronicles

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fantroll-purgatory · 4 years

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World: Alternia, slight AU where the hemospectrum is really more of a spectrum. You can be a “high tealblood” or “low oliveblood”, as long as it fits within a certain range. Exzodiac signs still apply.

Hell yeah. Since the colors are typically 30 degrees away from one another on the color wheel I usually bump cuspbloods about 10 degrees one direction or another.

Name: Renuti Ceclos. I don’t recall where “Renuti” came from—probably the Latin root for “revolution” or “communication”—but “Ceclos” is a sly nod to Night Vale.

Love it.

Age: Sweeps for Trolls, Years for Kids

You didn’t include an age but *shrug emoji*

Theme/Story: The story, although it eventually becomes a SBURB adventure, starts with a radio station on Alternia that broadcasts rebellious messages for those seeking hope. Renuti is the runner of this station, and the eventual players of SBURB are drawn together because of them and the radio station.

Hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah

Review Goals: The fanventure is already being posted, so I can’t make any major story shifts. But design and personality help is appreciated. I can also change their name if necessary.

You canNOT change their name it is good!

Strife Specibus: Not quite sure. Mgaphnekind?

You could also do mikekind if you want it would be Renuti swinging the cord around like a morningstar or perhaps whacking people with the mike stand?

Fetch Modus: Not sure…fake news modus? Has to discern the actual item from the exaggerated headline?

…man given all that’s going on that concept made my gut wrench a little so lemme see if I can come up with a different one.

Idk if you’ve ever heard of or played the game Oxenfree, but in it the main character has a radio she can tune to different frequencies to pick up some cool stuff! But once the plot gets going, she can adjust her radio to three different frequencies to open up a portal which [REDACTED].

So maybe Renuti can use a FREQUENCY MODUS, where each item is locked to a certain 3-frequency combination, and upon spinning the dial to them in turn a little portal pops up and drops the item into their hands?

Blood Color: Slightly high teal blood.

Lunar Sway: Derse, obviously.

Title: Heir of Light. Literally inherited the radio station from their ancestor, and passively changes things by sharing truth and information. (Passively because, as a reporter from inside the booth, they can’t intervene.) In a meta sense, they inherently have relevance because I thought of them first and the story sort of revolves around them.

Symbol and Meaning: Lipia, the Networker.

LOVE ALL THIS.

Handle: unidentifiedScholar

If I may suggest one, what about staticRevolution? I like the contrast of the two words, and they still easily convey that they’re a subversive radio host to those in the know.

Quirk: #Since the #adio is pretty old, t#e sound quality is pretty low.# (adds more ### at intervals when nervous)

This is an excellent quirk, you’ve honestly thought Renuti out so well.

Special Abilities: None.

Lusus/Guardian: I’m really not sure. Their theme doesn’t line up with any animals I can think of.

Well as long as we’re making Night Vale references, why not a snake, since it’s on the Subversive Radio Host patch? BUT let’s make it a tsuchinoko since 1) fat creature I love it, 2) it can occasionally be mistaken for a microphone, and 3) apparently some myths indicate that it can talk, lie, and drink booze, which sounds like a GREAT parental figure for a future radio host.

Interests: They like to listen to podcasts a ton, and also go for walks. They try to cook, but they’re pretty bad at it. They make found poetry out of newspapers they distrust. Oh, and they adore troll Doctor Who.

Mood to a LOT of this.

Appearance: It won’t let me attach the picture I drew :( pretty basic appearance overall, short hair, horns like rectangles with slanted tops, long coat over pants and shirt.

Oh GOD I wanna see them so bad if you see this after it’s published *please* try submitting their picture I’d love to have a look at them!

Personality: Renuti is very caring, friendly, and confident, which are all traits that can easily get them into bad situations. They have a tendency to get carried away with passion and excitement when talking, and often have narrowly avoided outing themself as a rebel when doing so. They aren’t close with many people, but they know many—useful when seeking out info. They can be too easily swayed by any sign of their kindness being reciprocated and they’re well aware of it, which is the cause for their self-imposed lack of friends. Overall, they’re a good person trying their hardest to not be as impulsively kind as they are.

Land: I’m not sure! Suggestions?

What about Land of Fibs and Fables? Their land would initially be populated by consorts who have been fed ALL SORTS of tall tales about their Hero of Light, and the only way they can get an audience with their denizen is to make sure that the *true* story becomes common knowledge.

Thank you for giving me such a DELIGHTFUL troll to look at I love them so much and would love to see how your fanventure comes along!

-TR

#tealblood #submission #renuti #ceclos #renuti ceclos #review #tr review #anonymous

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heartslogos · 5 years

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mafia!verse: the wedding [1]

There are social events that hold personal, and social, significance and power. They bring communities together. They provide avenues for bonding and exchanging information, exchanging money, exchanging blood.

Society uses these occasions to build. To grow. To war.

And during these occasions nothing is more important than hospitality. Civility. Propriety. The following of certain accepted social agreements and unspoken rules. The covenant of neighbors, of social hierarchy, of class.

Birthdays are an example of such an important occasion.

The classic tale of Sleeping Beauty illustrates exactly why this is so important. A child is born and everyone comes to wish the happy parents well. The parents invite everyone of import.

But everyone knows that there’s one person who wasn’t invited. And whether or not they would have accepted the invitation is irrelevant. What matters is that no invitation was offered.

One does not slight someone of such power and importance.

Now, the Wayne family isn’t made of fairies. There’s too much talent for iron and its various formats for that. But at least two of them are so rotten not even death would take them.

Another such occasion with as much importance that would require the same amount of respect and healthy handling of such societal niceties as a birth is a wedding, which usually precedes a birth by about eight to nine months depending on how close that shotgun is to someone’s head.

Weddings are important things. They’re the start of something. They’re the end of something. They’re the making of something. They are the destroying of something.

Weddings bring people together. They end wars. They start alliances. They usher in peace. They can start feuds. They can start grudges.

And the Wayne family was not issued an invitation to this one.

Dick Grayson drives up to the security guards posted all the way down at the end of the street, parking his car right there in the damned center of it and knowing not a single person present — security guards, people who also happen to unfortunately live in this affluent suburban neighborhood, reporters, police — is going to stop him.

The man’s an angel to end all angels.

The word end is used in its most literal, finite, and apocryphal sense here.

Man’s got a smile like a morning star, you could call him Vesper. You could also call him by the other name, too, but you’d get more of a laugh than anything.

He smiles that devil’s smile and the security guards falter. Most do.

Dick Grayson adjusts his suit, and turns to the sound of another car. Dark cherry red coming to a smooth stop next to his.

“Jason,” his eyebrows raise as the car doors open, “Tim. You came together?”

“Yup,” Jason answers, jerking his thumb towards the passenger side as it threatens to swing closed on the occupant. “Timbo over there’s having a day. I felt like being decent and giving the man a ride.”

“Feel like being decent and helping me out of the car?” Tim calls from the other side. Jason leans against his side of the car, making no move to go help. Dick shakes his head and goes to help.

“Having a day are you?” Dick asks, holding the door open so Tim can swing his forearm crutches out and pull himself out after them.

Tim Drake was supposedly assassinated on live television four or five years ago. Supposedly. Rumor has it that it was all staged. To make the people who saw that video feel sorry for him. To get the negative press coming from outside of Gotham off his back. To get people who do want him dead to lower their guard so he could surprise them by popping back up when they least expect it.

Jury’s out on whether he was really shot or not — several thousand witnesses, a still somewhat visible bloodstain right out front of W.E., and a box of evidence in the police department vaults aside. But he’s been using the crutches on and off ever since and no one’s got the balls to challenge it to his face.

“Yes.”

“And Jason just so happened to be around to give you a ride?”

“I might have been there already as the day was progressing towards crutches territory,” Jason admits, making a motion for them to get a move on so he can lock the car.

“Oh? Anything I should be worried about?”

“We were bonding,” Jason says, “Right, Replacement?”

“It’s fine, Dick,” Tim ignores Jason and starts to swat Dick’s hands away as he tries to fix Tim’s hair. “What are you doing here?”

A motorcycle snarls in the rapidly deceasing distance.

“It’s a family gathering off the manor grounds,” Jason groans, “Ode to joy.”

Cassandra’s black monster of a motorcycle comes to a perfect stop, next to Jason’s car.

She flips the visor on her helmet up, examining all of them before resting her eyes on Tim.

“Bad?” She nods towards the crutches.

“They aren’t for the aesthetic.”

Before anyone can say anything about that, one way or the other, a final car comes by. It doesn’t park, it idles as its passenger leaves the back seat, before slowly reversing and turning itself around to drive off again.

“What are you all doing here?”

“Attending a wedding,” the four of them answer, eyeing each other and Damian.

“Alright, I’ll bite, did anyone here get an invite?” Jason says, “Raise your hand if you feel excluded from the block party that literally everyone was invited to.”

Four hands raise. Tim whacks one of his crutches against Jason’s tires to cast his vote.

“I heard Vale was invited,” Damian says as they all stare at each other.

“I’m sure our invitation was lost,” Dick shrugs, “I bet they didn’t know who to address it to. There’s six of us, after all, and most of us are never at the manor.”

“Such optimism.”

Cassandra points at the closest security guard, making sure he’s met her eyes before she points at her bike.

“If this has moved,” Cassandra says, “I will remove you.”

She does not wait to see if this is understood. She turns around and starts to take off her leather jacket, revealing a black undershirt.

Cameras flash. The reporters who didn’t get a chance to pass security know better than to ask questions, and to be content with whatever pictures they can manage.

“Shouldn’t you be hiding your face?” Jason gestures towards the flashing cameras as the four of them move to somewhat obscure their sister from the flashing lights. “Might look bad for you if you’re seen crashing a wedding.”

Tim’s smile to the cameras causes a riot of flashes that are now solidly directed and him. It looks so menacing in its niceness that it would make sharks look like herbivores.

“Don’t be silly, Jason. I own those reporters.”

“Tim, Tim, Tim,” Dick chides, “You can’t own reporters. Owning reporters is owning people and that’s slavery. It’s been outlawed.”

“Slavery is illegal and wrong,” Cassandra says from where she’s standing a bit off from them, pulling out a neatly folded dress shirt from her bike’s storage compartment and doing it up. “Damian, do my tie.”

Damian sighs, “Yes, Cassandra. You’d think that you’d know how to tie it yourself at this point, considering all the other knots you know.”

Dick points at her as he slings an arm around Tim and Jason, drawing them in together earning a grumble from Jason and an irritated eye roll from Tim, “Exactly, Cass. Besides, there’s something more powerful than owning a person.”

Cassandra and Dick both turn at the same time to face the cameras directly in a sharp snap.

“You can own the face of their fear.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason passes a hand over his eyes. “You’re the goddamned worst. I don’t know why I bother. Alright. Let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Dick smiles at the guards.

“You don’t need to see our invitation, right?”

Damian doesn’t wait, he brushes past the guards and starts walking towards the house with the white ribbons on its tall stone wall.

“Our invitation is the fact that we are Waynes, and all the money used to pay for this wedding came from our graces,” Damian says, “And frankly, I would like to see such graces return with some measure of gratitude.”

“Agreed,” Tim adjusts his grip on his crutches as he moves forward, parting guards without any resistance. “This union wouldn’t have happened without my influence and I would like some minor acknowledgement of that. And there are some people here who’ve been annoyingly persistent in how hard they are to reach.”

#heartsfic #c: unwanted and enduring knight #c: a star going red giant #c: icarus rising #c: uncompromising victor #c: the dreamer who always sees the stars #c: the children's champion

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

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9.09, Holy Terror.

Remember, folks. Writers lie.

But Metatron slips back into the story like the proverbial serpent. I mean, that's literally the metaphor that applies, considering he's the one who finally unmasks Gadreel for us-the-audience, despite Dean still being in the dark. But there's far more manipulation going on in this episode...

As Gadreel tightens the screws on Dean, Metatron applies the exact right pressure to Gadreel. It's figworms within figworms, one after the other rotting the apple from the inside out, and everything is about to collapse.

Remember in the 9.06-9.07 post, I described the process through which Dean's lies and half-truths gradually came to light until they were completely out in the open? Well, that's beginning in earnest with his current round of increasingly unsustainable lies, and we begin to really see the toll it's all taking on Dean.

(also need to note one of the angels killed in the opening scene, his vessel was named "Red Dawg," in a season where Dean has both been referred to by the nickname "D-Dog," and also became an actual dog for an episode already... the MoC/demon Dean foreshadowing was pervasive in this season)

We've already seen Sam begin to crack under the weight of it all at the end of 9.08, but now both Dean and Cas will feel that burden, too...

Dean pushes Gadreel for an honest answer about Sam's recovery, pressuring him for a better answer, while Gadreel expresses his concern over working a case that potentially involves angels, but also leaving the entire burden of perpetuating the deception on Dean himself. And he's not doing well with that burden, and Sam's losing faith in himself and trust in Dean's increasingly shady answers...

SAM (getting agitated) No, it's more than Vesta! I mean, this kind of thing's been happening to me. Like, like, there are chunks of time just … missing. Like there are times when I'm... not here. DEAN Well, like I've said— SAM Yes, the trials. I know. I heard you. I heard you when you said it the last week and the week before that and the week before that. DEAN Yeah, because ... damn straight the trials. They whacked you, man. You're not up to warp speed yet, okay? But you will be. (Smiles at SAM.) Would I lie?

and

Blue light flashes in SAM’s eyes; EZEKIEL-IN-SAM is back. DEAN (knowing he's about to get more grief from EZEKIEL-IN-SAM) Oh, boy. EZEKIEL-in-SAM Well? What are you going to do about this? DEAN About Cas? EZEKIEL-in-SAM He is a beacon, Dean, pulling every angel for miles down on our heads. DEAN All right, you know what, Zeke? Level with me. What is it that you're so afraid of? EZEKIEL-IN-SAM I told you. When I chose to answer your prayers and heal Sam, I chose sides. That means I'm not in good standing with certain angels. DEAN Okay, well, you know what? Cas isn't in good standing with any angel, all right? But here he is, ass on the line, fighting the fight. So tell me, what makes you so special?

But Dean breaks down again and begins to strategically confess to Cas, still leaving out crucial pieces of information, but giving him enough that Cas does eventually begin to understand the gravity of Dean's situation:

CASTIEL (clears throat) I, um, I noticed you look... kind of uncomfortable whenever Sam mentions my leaving. Doesn't he know that you told me to leave? DEAN Here's the deal. When Sam was doing the trials to seal up Hell, it messed him up. Okay? The third one nearly killed him. If I'd let him finish, it would have. He's still messed up, bad. CASTIEL You said the angel, Ezekiel, helped heal him. DEAN (looks down, avoiding the question) Look, I got to do anything I can to get him back. Now, if that means that we keep our distance from you for a little while, then... Then I don't have a choice. I don't feel good about it, but I don't have a choice. It's great to have your help, Cas. Okay, but we just can't work together. CAS looks sad.

Bolding mine. I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE. I DON'T FEEL GOOD ABOUT IT, BUT I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE.

Cas, being Not A Moron™ now understands that everything that's happened since the angels fell, since Dean went to extraordinary measures to save Sam with "Ezekiel's" help, has put Dean in this impossible position. He might not know the true extent of it, but at the end of the episode when he calls Dean to warn him that "Ezekiel" is not who he's pretending to be, he knows that Dean absolutely NEEDS this information... which he could only have known if he understood that Dean had made some sort of as-yet-still-secret-by-necessity-of-Sam-continuing-to-be-not-dead pact with Fake Ezekiel...

And then, a truly horrible twist of circumstance as Cas searches for answers and is captured by a group of angels and tortured. Everyone is just doing what they have to do...:

CASTIEL Angels butchering angels. Is this what we've become? MALACHI Just following your example, Castiel. How many did you kill in Heaven? How many in the Fall? (off CASTIEL's look) Oh, you didn't know? A host of angels died when they fell – Azrael, Sophia, Ezekiel (At this last name, CASTIEL turns very thoughtful) ... "Died" doesn't even describe it. Devastation. Wings shredded, unspeakable agony at your hands. So, I think you would want to provide any information you have, considering... (pause; no response from CASTIEL) All right. I leave you in the hands of an artist. (to THEO) I don't care what's left. THEO Don't ask for mercy. There is none. THEO walks and shuts the door, then returns to CASTIEL, and picks up a drill. THEO I'll give you one last chance for this to end. CASTIEL Give me a quick death. CASTIEL closes his eyes and holds up his face in anticipation of the blow(s). THEO I need you to speak to Metatron. Everyone knows you have influence. CASTIEL now opens his eyes and looks in astonishment at THEO. THEO (continuing) He'll listen to you. Ask him to raise me to Heaven. You can do this, Castiel. I'll be a soldier for Metatron, do anything he wants. CASTIEL You – you serve Malachi. THEO I thought he was the answer, but he's crazy. CASTIEL You're... noticing this now? You were more than willing to do his dirty work. THEO I did what I had to.

So of course Cas does what he has to do, now that he knows what Metatron is up to, that Dean is in danger from the False Ezekiel:

CASTIEL (on the phone) Dean, I don't have a lot of time, so listen. The leader of the opposition is an angel named Malachi. DEAN How do you know that? CASTIEL He had me. I, uh, I was tortured. But I got away. DEAN How? CASTIEL I... I did what I had to. I became what they've become. A barbarian. DEAN What are you – Cas, where are you? CASTIEL It's better I stay away. They're gonna want me even more now. But I'm gonna be all right. I... I got my Grace back. Well, not mine per se, but it'll do. DEAN Wait, you're – you're back? You got your mojo? CASTIEL I'm not sure. But I am an angel. DEAN And you're okay with that? CASTIEL If we're going to war, I need to be ready.

Unfortunately Cas's warning comes too late to save Sam, or Kevin, and Gadreel takes over fully, having been deceived and manipulated into doing Metatron's dirty work, just as Cas had been in 8.22-8.23.

Which is why Cas immediately forgives Dean in the opening scenes of...

9.10, Road Trip.

(meanwhile, the angels all continue to be Terrible™ in the background, proving they were always Terrible™ and are only using Cas as a scapegoat, blaming their troubles on him when honestly they were all always Terrible Manipulative Bastards™ all on their own!)

(also, Andrew "what are cars even anyway" Dabb writing an episode called "Road Trip" makes me cackle)

Watching Dean suffering alone at the bunker (Gadreel even stole the Impala ffs), giving Kevin a hunter's funeral alone... this was hard. And then Cas showed up 100% understanding, and 100% ready to help however he could, back in a new trench now that he had his mojo back. So in that way, Dean had already resigned himself to having An Angel back, and not the same Cas he'd tossed out in his worst moment. It's his fault Cas was forced to go to that measure. Ouch.

I'd also like to point out the similarity between Metatron luring Cas in during s8-- starting by appealing to Cas's desire for atonement, his need for all the angels to stop the infighting and begin working together again, to restore order, and then luring him in to increasingly horrific acts he promised would achieve those ends. When Cas had balked, Metatron had manipulated circumstances to push Cas into doing them anyway. Same with Gadreel.

Metatron used the lure of being able to clear his name, back in 9.09:

METATRON: Relax. I'm not here to out you. But I am curious, why Ezekiel? NOT-EZEKIEL-IN-SAM They say he is a good, and ... honorable angel. METATRON Ahhhh. Everything they say you are not. I see your point... Gadreel. NOT-EZEKIEL-IN-SAM (henceforth to be known as GADREEL-IN-SAM) The stories about me – they are not true! METATRON And yet you spent countless thousands of years locked in Heaven's darkest dungeon. And now you're hiding in this human, posing as Ezekiel. (shakes his head) Tragic. It broke His heart to lock you away, you know? You were God's most trusted. That's why He chose you to protect the garden. Your one task was to keep evil from entering... from befouling His cherished creation, mankind, and you failed Him! GADREEL-IN-SAM Not my doing. METATRON Well, for whatever reason, the serpent entered. The Earth is cursed with evil. Someone had to be blamed.

Gadreel had been duped from the start. And he didn't let evil onto the Earth. Adam and Eve weren't tainted with evil when they ate the apple, they were tained with the KNOWLEDGE of good and evil. If knowledge could be considered a "curse" in the first place. And Gadreel just happened to be the one left standing there after the deed had been done, even if he was no more complicit in what resulted that Cas had been in Metatron's spell that made the angels fall. But unlike Cas, Gadreel believes Metatron truly wants to help him clear his name, or at the very least help him build his reputation anew by doing "good" now... and yiiiiiikes....

Gadreel was horrifically okay with killing Kevin on Metatron's orders, because Kevin was helping Dean perform a spell to eject him from Sam, and it was partly (at least he could rationalize it that way) self-defense. And he was all too happy to murder his former jailer who was now envesseled in a Justin Bieber wannabe. I believe we all cheered about that guy getting his comeuppance. But then Metatron orders him to kill the only angel Gadreel had considered a friend, who he'd been imprisoned with, and who'd decided to embrace the human life he'd found himself in, adopting his (previously abusive jerkwad) vessel's family as his own. Abner had been HAPPY with his life, and yet to save his own reputation, and without questioning Metatron's order, Gadreel killed him.

Crowley also played a role in this, using his NSA-infiltrated demon to track the stolen Impala. Crowley praised her for also playing ball with Abaddon (and later Abaddon would kill her for admitting she was also helping Crowley... two very different ruling styles...), and then they'd have to move from Plan A (torturing Gadreel with the Angel Brainwashing Halo Thingie) to Plan B (crowley possessing Sam to convince him to evict Gadreel from the inside).

Gadreel gone back to his previous vessel, Sam feels justifiably violated by his possessions.

Sam: What do you want me to say? I’m pissed? Okay I am, I’m pissed. You lied to me - again. Dean: I didn't have a choice. Sam: I was ready to die Dean. Dean: I know. But I wouldn't let you, because that’s not in me. Sam: So what, you decide to trick me into being possessed by some...psycho angel? Dean: He saved your life. Sam: So what. I was willing to die. And now...Kevin. Dean: No, that is not on you. Kevin’s blood is on my hands. And that ain’t ever getting clean. I’ll burn for that. I will. But I’ll find Gadreel and I will end that son of a bitch. But I’ll do it alone. Sam: What’s that supposed to mean? Dean: Come on man, can’t you see, I’m poison. People get close to me they get killed, or worse. I tell myself I help more people than I hurt and I tell myself that I’m doing it all for the right reasons and I believe that. But I can’t -- I won’t drag anyone anybody into the muck with me - not anymore. Sam: Go. I’m not going to stop you. But don’t go thinking that’s the problem because it’s not. Dean: What’s that supposed to mean? Sam: Just go.

And we're back to not talking to each other. And there's our final "I didn't have a choice." But there's also the fact that Dean DIDN'T trick Sam into letting an angel possess him. The angel did that all on his own. Asking for Dean's permission was entirely besides the point. It was Sam who had to say yes, and it was Gadreel who assumed Dean's likeness inside Sam's mind, using what he'd learned about Sam during his unattended "examination" while Dean had been talking to Cas and blowing away the other angels attacking the hospital to learn what he'd need to manipulate Sam into saying yes. And it's not like Dean intended to lie, that was Gadreel's condition he'd at first told Dean was to prevent Sam from ejecting him and basically dying on the spot before they could explain the plan to Sam. And then over time, as Dean tried to tell Sam the truth before it got to that point, Gadreel actively prevented him from doing so. It was only then that Dean realized just how screwed he was. ALLLLLL the guilt of everything bad that's resulted from Gadreel possessing Sam to this point, Dean blames all of it on himself-- Cas, Kevin, Sam... all of it. Sam's just... still reeling from his own experience that he's unable to see this yet. Unfortunately, he won't see it for a good long while to come, after it's far too late to save Dean from what the mark will do to him.

And another cycle of manipulation, betrayal, and sacrifice begins. Chuck must've been pretty damn proud of this one... all he had to do was sit back and watch Metatron execute the very Him-like plan for him.

#spn 9.09 #spn 9.10 #s14 hellatus rewatch #it's spirals all the way down #lies and damn lies #i blame metadouche for everything including global warming and bee colony collapse #the scheherazade of supernatural #spiders georg of the tnt loop

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paimaniagalaxia · 5 years

Text

PATIM: Carnival Break

Written: @paimania and @jordanthecat11

Bendy and the Ink Machine © theMeatly/Joey Drew Studios

Word count: 2,220

Characters: Pai(Skye Stein/Paige Drew)/The Ink Demon/Boris/’Alice Angel’

Summary: Pai decides to take a break from the loop that she is stuck in. During Chapter 3, she summons the Ink Demon to have some carnival fun. She, him, and along with Boris travel down and bond with one another. Just having a wonderful time.

Traversing through these halls was just mind looping, well being in a LITERAL LOOP, for Pai. Thy young protagonist of this ever changing story by the hands of the creator (that traitor). As much as she wanted to follow along with the tale and do the errands she had to finish for the angel-- The girl needed a break. Lucky, she was in a section in Heavenly Toys that lurked a certain demon.

The Ink Demon. Since Pai was on the part where she was cutting down the cutouts, with her axe in hand she whacks one of them down but doesn't go into a miracle station once the demon's ink starts to coat the main entrance of Heavenly Toys. She wanted to see him, and this was the only option that came into her scattered mind.

The moment the last cutout was smashed, a black swirling portal appears from the top of the stairs. It would always set him off, as he enjoyed looking at the little cartoon cutouts of himself. But after going through so many loops, eventually becoming aware of them, he notices a pattern.

This was the work of that blasted angel, who would always send out her little ‘errand girl’ to do her bidding. Fortunately, though, he knew that girl and found her to be quite interesting. The moment he saw her, his smile grew genuinely wider and he proceeded to run down the stairs to her, only to slip and fall on his butt like the little devil himself.

Honestly, she would of been quite terrified of the demon but after each cycle-- She could understand they were stuck here together for a long time. Pai was basically one herself once she gets insane enough, but that was always used as a last resort.

She stifles her laugh once the mighty Ink Demon came tumbling on his bum down the stairs. Just like the dancing demon himself like in the cartoon reels. The errand girl walks over and holds out her inked claw hand to him. Hoping he would take it.

"Need some help little guy?"

The Ink Demon groaned in pain, rubbing his backside to ease it. Then he looks up, noticing the girl holding out her hand. He understood it as her wanting to help him, so he nods and takes it with his gloved hand.

Pai gives a warm smile as she felt his hand take hers. Cold, but soft since it was his gloved one. She backs up, helping the demon get up onto his feet and lets go gently.

"There we go, tall and proud. Sorry I had to bust one of your cut outs... Mind stuck in the loop too." She jokes playfully.

The Ink Demon pulls himself up once the girl backs up to lift him off the ground. He stands up tall with his hands on his hips, posing like a superhero.

“Eh,” he shrugs off with his hand, knowing Pai wasn’t at fault for destroying the cutouts, as proven many times they’ve encountered each other in the loop. Even if it was annoying, he wasn’t going to blame her for it.

Seems like he has grown numb and didn't care about the cutouts as he used to. Pai figured that she apologized since 'Alice' might not like them interacting like this. She already didn't like her very much anyways, this would just add fuel to the fire.

Pai gives a small laugh, seeing the ink demon pose like a hero before giving her request.

"Say, since the elevator hasn't been tampered by that angel yet... Would you like to join me in some carnival games with Boris and I?" She asks, knowing that Boris was still waiting for her in the elevator.

“Ooooo...” the demon says before nodding yes. “Let’s play! Let’s play!” He takes Pai by the hand, pulling her gently as the two run over to the elevator to meet Boris. When they get there, Bendy waves hello to the cartoon wolf in a friendly manner.

----

Meanwhile, Boris was used to being things done in the loop, knowing his fate and all too well. so, when he saw the Ink Demon come over with Pai, he quickly waves his hands outward. Crossing them in an X shape in a repeated manor. Saying this was a 'bad idea'.

"Oh come on Boris, we are just going to have some fun..." Pai reassures him and leads The Ink Demon in carefully so that he would fit inside the elevator."

“Yeah, fun!” The demon said as he ducked his way inside the elevator, being careful not to hit the top bar.

As soon as he was in, he pushed the button to their destination, whistling a merry tune as they made their way down. It was the theme to the Little Devil’s cartoons, which he enjoyed so much after seeing them over and over again. His favorite pastime. And hopefully one that he could share with Pai, too, before they have to go back to the loop again.

Boris just shook his head, it seems the Demon was harmless enough in this loop around again. So a bit of a break shouldn't be too bad, terrified to be this close to him, but harmless. He looks over at Pai to see her smiling over at The Ink Demon, and was kind of happy to see her happy for once. She always seem so tired and angry going through this chapter before going after him. It was a nice change of pace, so why not join in.

"So, Mister Ink Monster. You can talk?" Boris replies in a semi-Russian like accent.

The Ink Demon looked over at Boris, surprised to hear him talk. He knew he didn’t talk as much when he was around him, but it felt nice to hear him all the same.

“Eh...sometimes,” the Ink Demon replies reluctantly. “Some words...not all.”

"Oh... I understand." Boris replies back. "You have to keep up with that whole monster thing... Or Joey didn't give you that gift."

"Don't talk about Drew..." Pai sneers a bit, as she hated hearing that name.

Even the Ink Demon growled when hearing Boris mention Joey Drew. The man who made him what he is and resented him. Called him a ‘weird abomination’ and threatened to keep him locked up, all because he wandered down the halls and looked over people’s shoulders.

His fists curled up into balls, as the memory of him left him angry, but he was trying to hold back on blowing a fuse for his friend’s sake.

“Almost there?” He asked, gritting his teeth.

For Pai, she couldn't recall much. There was just that deep hate for him, and every time she goes into his apartment. Telling her, "Oh, you're back. So wonderful to see you my little girl. I'm sure you are having a wonderful time, make sure to smile and keep pushing through. I know you can do it." was all he said and pushes her back in.

And there was nothing she could say or do, since her mind goes blank for some reason and just remembers that part before the loop starts again.

"Oh y-yes... We are reaching the bottom of the studio now..." Boris stutters. Now he felt even more terrified, he was in an elevator with TWO in demons.

As soon as the elevator stops and opens its doors, the Demon steps out first, then makes way for his friends, examining the place they landed. Seemed a bit empty, but they did have a long way to go before reaching the carnival warehouse.

“Portal?” He asked, in case the others didn’t want to travel as much by foot.

"A portal does sound like a good idea." Pai agrees with the demon.

"You sure I won't form back into an ink puddle. I am kind of needed to be that 'brute boris' character... Don't want to be imperfect you know." Boris counters a bit nervous.

“No, no,” The Ink Demon replies, insisting that they’ll both be safe as long as he’s with them in the portal. He summons enough ink to create a swirling whirlpool, then grabs both of his friends by the hands.

“Hang on.” Within seconds, he brings them to the portal, stepping through flawlessly into the giant warehouse of carnival games. “Here we are!”

Pai and Boris hold onto The Ink Demon's hands as they enter into the portal. Boris was relieved to make it out in one piece, but looks over at Pai. just in case if anything happened to her.

Luckily, nothing did and she was just as normal as she was before and sighs relieved.

"Thanks Inky!" Pai nicknames The Ink Demon and admires what the small carnival warehouse have. Sure, it wasn't her favorite chapter to be in, but knew The Ink Demon had one big part in it, scary but was there and gone.

"Oh, you gave him a name? Now you're going to get attached to him. Please you don't like that name there Mister Ink Demon...?" Boris looks over at The Ink Demon.

The Ink Demon blushes and giggles when he hears her call him that name. It was cute. And he didn’t mind it one bit.

“So...what now?” He asked, looking around at all these games. They all looked like so much fun. He didn’t know where to start.

"Oh, he likes it... Figures..." Boris groans a bit and follows the two down to the carnival games. He leans up against one of the shelves, keeping and eye on Pai and 'Inky'.

"Hmmm... Maybe we should try the milk bottle game!" Pai suggests as she picks up the baseball, ready to toss it at the milk bottles.

“Oooo!” The Ink Demon says in awe before clapping his hands together joyfully. This was going to be a fun game, he could tell. He steps aside so that Pai can take her turn first before going next.

Pai closes one eye and rears her arm back. She knew she was not the best shot at aiming, hence why she never tries to get the Tommy gun and more so she was prone to violence. With one quick keen eye, she chucks the ball at the milk bottles and well-- Misses.

"Damn!"

The Ink Demon was surprised to hear such a word come out of Pai’s mouth. It felt very strong and powerful. But he could tell that Pai wasn’t too happy that she missed. So he decided to step him, pointing to the ball asking if he could give it a try for her.

"Oh sure thing." Pai replies more calmly. Last thing she wanted was to have an anger episode and turn into a full on Ink Demon in front of 'Inky'. She hands him over the ball and steps back to give him some room.

“Thank you,” Inky says as he takes the ball. He steadies himself, with one leg forward and the other one back. Then, he swings his arm around until he lets go of the ball, sending it flying until it hits the inner wall and then over to Boris, almost hitting him.

“Damn!” He curses, snapping his fingers.

"BENDY!" Boris yells out as he was glad he didn't get hit. Luckily, he ducked once he saw the ball come careening towards him. He was more mad about the 'bad word' he said then after. "Don't you DARE say that word! That's a bad word!!"

"Did... Did you just call him 'Bendy'...?" Pai tilts her head confused, as she didn't mind Inky saying 'damn'. Since herself didn't see that as a 'bad word'.

“What?” Inky shrugged, pointing over to Pai that she had said it first. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.

Then he turns to her.

“Yes...me Bendy,” he confirmed, pointing over to his untouched cutout, thinking that’s who he really was.

Honestly, he really wasn't sadly. As much as to her dismay, she felt that he was more than just the little toon devil on the silver screen, but has been integrated to be innocent but prone to violence. Kind of like her. As much as she wanted to crush his little dream of being the 'real dancing demon', she didn't. Pai wasn't like Drew and would never be like him. She sighs and walks over, places a hand onto his arm. Giving the demon a soft smile.

"Yes, you are Bendy. You are the dancing demon everyone loves to be. Who can sing and dance,that is known around the world from here to France... You are him." Pai reassures him.

The demon smiled when she said that, leaning down to give her a rub on the head. “And you are Pai...my friend,” he replied back to her. “And he is Boris. Both of you...friends.”

"Yes... I am Pai." she smiles happily, adoring that name a bit more. She looks over at Boris, to see him smile a bit as well.

"Yeah, we are good friends." Boris agrees with a smile.

Though meanwhile, from above the carnival grounds was that very 'angel'. Lurking in the shadows at the three 'so-called' friends. Even though they had this short break-- It wouldn't last. The loop must continue on, for soon she will be perfect again.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #writing #story #pai and the ink machine #ink demon bendy #ink bendy #boris the wolf #alice angel #susie campbell #pai #jordanthecat11 #long post

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bahannah01writes · 5 years

Text

Pillows of Justice

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Sugar Coated Fluff ❤︎

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Being pushed away can hurt- but so can being pummeled by a pillow.

Enjoy ❤︎

Background sounds slowly disappear leaving you to only focus on the man in front of you.

Jungkook.

You can hear the air escaping his lungs as you look up at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out how things could have gotten to where they are. Desperate, you attempt to meet his eyes and simply wait for him to admit the error of his action... He doesn’t look back, nor do any words pass his lips.

A pang echoes in your heart with brows knitting together in a mix of confusion and disappointment.

You realize that he isn’t going to apologize. Just like all the times before.

However, unlike all the times before, you are no longer going to let this slide. Every breath you take fuels the fire inside of you, bitterly burning and ready to explode upon your unsuspecting lover.

And it does.

In the form of whacking him with a pillow and yelling, “Viva la Revolucion!”

Brown eyes get big as his hands leave the keyboard to try and block the fluffy attack. Once his initial confusion passes, you begin to hear his laughter rolling out as he finds amusement in your sudden rebellion. This only causes a pout to appear on your lips, “Stop laughing! You’re-” thwack! “Under-” thump! “Attack!”

Either he is too distracted by the pillow pummel or he can’t bring himself to stop laughing because you continue to hear such cute laughter. In any other situation you would be fawning over him for it but this time you need to be strong. You need to resist the urge to cuddle this buff bunny of yours. He has done you wrong too many times and it is about time that you stand up with persistence and pillows.

Until a whine meets your ears. You temporarily put your one-sided battle to a halt to listen to him, “What did I dooo?”

All Jungkook can see before he is once again pelted with this pillow is a look of absolute shock and disappointment cross your expression, “Jungkook, you know exactly what you did!”

“I do?

“Yes!”

Before he meets the justice brought by a pillow yet again, Jungkook gets a steady hold of it. A smirk slowly grows on his lips, proud of how easily he bested you and finally pulling the pillow out of your grip. He sets it in his lap and looks up at your now wide eyes, resembling his own at the beginning of this endeavor, “While I am very, very tempted to show you how a real pillow fight is done, I won’t- at least not before you tell me what I did wrong.”

How smug can meet sincerity in his expression is something you will never quite figure out. A heavy sigh leaves your lips while arms cross over your chest, still trying to show authority without the power of a pillow, “Almost every time you play Overwatch I get pushed away, like literally, Kook. I know you love having some gaming time to yourself and it’s not like I want to take that away, but sometimes I just want you to myself after a long day.” Any residing anger has left you by now and at this point, you begin to just feel, well, bummed. You lean against the desk as a light laugh escapes you, “Kook- just today, you picked me up and set me on the floor while your character was respawning because I tried to sit on your lap.”

The corner of his lips upturn into a guilty grin, “I did do that, huh?” a soft chuckle passes his lips. He places the pillow on the floor and holds out his arms, open and waiting expectantly for you to come and fill them up with a sweet embrace.

Your brows raise as now you join in his light laughter, “Now you want me to sit on your lap?”

With flushed cheeks, you witness how his sweet smile twists into a cocky grin, “Doesn’t have to be my lap, Jagi.”

You have never been so quick to reach for another pillow.

Ears pick up on a yell from behind you and you’re suddenly lifted into the air and tossed over a certain buff bunny’s shoulder, “Put me down, Jeon!”

“Not yet.”

“Jeon!” You whine, wiggling in his grasp and trying your best to escape. Suddenly, you’re dropped onto the bed and before you can even roll off and run from your captor, he drops himself on top of you and trapping you beneath him.

“Hi, (Y/n).”

“Hi, Jungkook. Are you going to move or..?”

He shakes his head, black locks swaying with the motion, and relaxes with his head on your chest, “Nah, I think I’m pretty comfortable here.” Rolling your eyes, you accept your fate. After belting out justice with a pillow, it seems as if you are now the pillow- what an odd twist of fate.

Your hands reach up and play with his hair, still thankful for having this giant dork in your life despite the difficulties you face. His eyes begin to close as he snuggles into you, mumbled words evading your comprehension. “You have to speak a bit louder, Kook,” you remind, a small but sweet smile now gracing your lips. The childlike playfulness in his eyes warms your heart when he returns his gaze to you, telling you that even with all the silly and mischievous antics there’s still just an utter sweetheart beneath it all. And you’ll always love him, no matter what he puts you through- plus, you often get back at him anyway, so it’s a mutual enjoyment.

“If you have a bad day, just tell me and I’ll leave the match to be with you and do whatever you want. I love Widow, like I really love WIdow, but I do love you more,” He assures as he leans in and places a kiss on your nose.

You return his gesture, resting your arms around his neck, “You better, especially since Widow can’t buy you banana milk.”

A kiss lands on your lips, lingering if just for a moment until Jungkook pulls away, whispering softly, “Does that mean you’re buying me banana milk? Because... I drank it all already.”

Turns out, the pillow of justice had one more blow in it after all.

x x x

I hope you enjoyed and if you did, tell me so that there can be more fics to come! :)

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infinitycaprogers · 6 years

Text

Midnight Train (B.B.)| CH.2

Parings: Bucky x Reader General Summary: A story very loosely based on Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’. (I suck at a finding a general summary without spilling the beans, you guys. Sorry!) Word Count: 2k Chapter summary: You’re getting curious about your new neighbour. Warnings: None A/N: So, I wasn’t sure if this was anything good but since @trashpanda-barnes said that she loved it and seeing that I almost had 40 notes must mean that I did SOMETHING good, right? Hope you all like it and if you want to be tagged, just ask me! Feedback is always appreciated as it helps me become a better writer so that you guys can actually enjoy my writing lol. Anyways, here’s chapter Two!

Enjoy xoxo

Masterlist

Previously:

Until a loud thud jolted you awake.

You opened your eyes instantly, scanning your room for any signs of movement. After a thorough check you frantically looked for something to whack the vandalizing fool with whom dared to enter your apartment. you opened your door to reveal Nancy, still snoring away peacefully on her cushion. You left her there and turned your head to the door. It appeared to be unopened. But how -

‘THUD.’

Your thoughts haltered as you widened your eyes and crept closer to the door which lead to the hallway. you peaked through the viewing hole and saw a wave of blond hair passing by. You gasped as an all too familiar face revealed itself.

‘Steve?’

Still in shock, you opened the door just a tad to take a better look at the scene before you; A tall, broad-shouldered man, was frantically looking around him in the corridor. His blond hair, slicked back and slightly greasy, made it seem like he hadn’t been home in a few days.

Steve. Rogers. Captain America.

He appeared to make sure no one was there, or at least that’s what you derived from the situation, since he wasn’t calling anyone for help and roamed his eye over every nook and corner of the hallway. You kept peeping and gathering more information, bending your knees to get a different point of view.

After checking, he whistled two short tones which alerted another figure, cloaked in the darkness of the corners of the hall. He stepped forward and appeared to be even more dishevelled than the blond superhero.

a small gasp escaped your breath being taken aback by his presence, alerting the Captain that another person appeared present in the whole ordeal. His eyes went wide, searching for any movement, which was your unfortunate cue to close the door. The lock clicked. A usually quiet sound turned into a deafening one in this silence and you were certain to be discovered. You let yourself fall as quietly as you could with your back against the door, a hand thrown over your mouth to stop the sound of heavy breathing seeping through the door. They spoke a few whispers, but it was too still to decipher.

Not long after, you heard a knock. You hastily stood back up, turning around to face the door and softly inquired:

“Who is it?”

A stern voice answered: “Ma’am, I’m from across the hall. Would you mind opening the door?”

You hesitated for a second. You heard Captain America. And not just that, you heard Steve. The Steve you had known for so long. Through stories, pictures, and so much more. And now he was here. In your building.

Knocking on your door.

In that moment you knew your only choice was to answer. He was a good man. He wouldn’t do anything to harm you. So you unlocked the door and put on your bravest face.

“What seems to be the problem?” you mustered up.

“I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Steve.” A handsome, kind face looked down at you. “I’ll be living here for a while and I wanted you to know that if you heard anything, you shouldn’t worry about it. We’re moving things around a lot and me being a total klutz doesn’t help.” He lifted his eyebrows as to let you know there really wasn’t anything troubling about this, but you saw right through him as soon as he slipped up.

And maybe because you were just spying on them.

“We?” you asked suggestively, slightly squinting your eyes.

“Uhm, Did I say we?” He nonchalantly asked but tried to save this conversation. “I mean, yes! We. My friend and I. Why, did you see him?”

As calmly as he tried to ask this, you were one step ahead of him. “Look Steve; yes, I saw your friend, there’s no need to worry. I don’t know what you guys are doing, but it is none of my business. I sure you wouldn’t do anything illegal. I know you.”

He looked puzzled, not knowing where you were heading with this.

“How do you mean, you know me?”

“First of all, you’re Captain America? Like one of the most well-known heroes on this planet.” You stated.

“Second, I know you as Steve Rogers, the little guy my grandmother used to have a crush on,” you explained to him, eyeing his response. “but you probably know her better as Sally.”

As soon her name left your lips, his eyes went wide with recognition, a smile appearing on his face.

“Sally…” he said, chuckling by himself, reminiscing the old days where, as you know, Steve was so in love with Sally that he brought her a single flower every morning since he was eight years old. With that flower always came a little note which had the loveliest compliments written on them. He wouldn’t talk to her himself, since he was too shy and thought she would never go for him, but how wrong he was. One day, when they were both fourteen, she was waiting for him to leave the flower of that day, a beautiful bright red rose, on her porch. As soon as he laid it down, she yanked the door open and asked;

“What the hell do you think you’re doing leaving me a pretty flower every day and not talking to me? Are those the manners your mommy taught you? Because they’re poorly.”

Since then, the two were inseparable. They would do literally anything together; going to the movies, playing outside, going to the market,… Sometimes Bucky would come with, but it was mostly them two as an amazing duo of friends who felt more for each other, not realizing it.

Until their first kiss at 15. The friendship turned in to so much more, and they were very much in love.

But when Steve’s mother died, his dad thought it was best to move to the other side of Brooklyn. Steve barely had any money to find his way back to his dame and even though Sally had quite a mouth on her, she couldn’t defy her parents, who wanted another man for her. A stronger, more suitable man who could protect her now that the war was in sight.

They corresponded through a few letters, but after Sally became engaged to another man due to her father, the corresponding stopped.

That was the last they heard from each other.

Even though she learned to love her husband, you grandmother only had one true love: Steve. Your grandfather had died a long time ago before you even knew what death was. So since then she always told about little Steve, her neighbour. The love of her life. As you were growing up, you stayed over at your grandma’s house at least twice a week. Not a day went by without a story about Steve, their time together or his life as captain America. Because of this, you felt like you knew Captain America.

Your grandmother was still alive when they pulled him out of the ice. She was glad that his fate wasn’t to die in a rock of ice, but to be a hero in this age where people had a different war to fight now: aliens.

She died shortly after, but not before telling you to always love who you want, not who others want you to love.

A wise lesson you took with you for the rest for your life.

If you would ever love someone.

“So now we’ve established that I definitely know you,” you began as you leaned on your door. “you don’t have to worry. Mima Sal is the one person I have always respected on this planet and since she respected you, your secrets are safe with me.”

“Is she still alive?” Steve blurted out. He looked hopeful into your eyes, searching for any confirmation.

But you shook your head.

“Unfortunately, no. She died shortly after you came out of the ice.” You sighed. She really was your rock, and it was hard to say goodbye, but she had learned you not to weep, but to be happy to have known people in your life. “If you want, you can always come over sometime. I’d love to talk to someone about her who actually knew her as a young girl.” You sombrely smiled at him. He smiled back and mouthed a silent thank you while you both kept standing there, looking at each other. It was as if someone jolted him back to reality as he suddenly talked.

“Right! So, what’s your name then?” the superhero inquired.

“it’s y/n. y/n y/l/n.” you happily replied to him. “How funny we met! I’d never thought to have the honour.”

He chuckled. “The pleasure is all mine, y/n. Happy to meet you, you’ll be hearing a lot from me! Although I won’t be living here for most of the time.” he confessed to you.

“Oh? The who is? Your buddy?” you figured Steve just helped him settle in.

“Yes, he’ll be staying here for a while. He’s a bit shy, but he is also a big sweetheart.” Steve whispered the last part to you.

“Well, I’m off then. If you hear anything loud, don’t panic and, like, call the police? Would be pretty awkward, right?” he smiled slyly. “Goodbye.”

He turned himself around and was already stalking his way back to his apartment when you halted him with a loud “Wait!”

Steve’s head turned around slightly, his ears perking up at what you would say. “Yes?”

“What’s his name? Your buddy, I mean.”

He smirked as he answered you;

“James. His name is James.”

As you closed your door you stared down your hall, not really there until Nancy jumped up and down at your shins. You reached down to pick her up and take her with you on your sofa. You absentmindedly stroked her back as she cuddled against you, still thinking about what happened.

Not only had you met Captain America; he was also as sweet and caring as your grandmother made him out to be. Though he was not the one you had the most questions about.

Why didn’t James come and talk to you? He would be your neighbour after all. Why were they being so secretive?

You decided to just go back to sleep and try to forget about all the questions those two were raising. As Nancy was fast asleep, you took her with you to your bed, tucking yourself in until your entire body and Nancy’s was covered by your blanket. You let your eyes rest to let sleep take over your senses.

But sleep never came.

Read Chapter 3 Here!

Feedback is always appreciated xoxo

#midnight train #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #steve rogers #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #they took the midnight train going anywhere #james x reader #james barnes #james bucky barnes

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vintagewoe · 6 years

Text

Sanctify—Chapter Four

Pairing: Bill Weasley x MC, Charlie Weasley x MC

Summary: During your fifth year at Hogwarts, you and your friends seek out the next Cursed Vault. You struggle with nightmares of flame and Jacob's laughter, and you haven't been sleeping much. You dreams beg you to be honest with yourself and your feelings, but how can you do that when you're not sure how you feel? Slytherin Female MC

Warnings: All the characters are underage, plus there’s gonna be a whole lot of angst.

Chapter Links: One Two Three Four Five Six

Chapter Four: Empty

How the hell did Penny drag you into this mess? You’re in the Hufflepuff dormitory while the peppy girl charms the life out of your hair. One of her spells finally takes, and your hair adapts to form loose curls. “This is ridiculous,” you groan into your reflection. “I don’t understand why we’re even doing this.” Your friends had decided to attend this year’s ball as a group, yet Penny insisted on getting the girls together beforehand to primp and preen beyond recognition. You’ve been seeing Charlie for about a month now, however; no one besides Barnaby knows. They both think that tonight would be a good time to tell the group, but you hoped to warn Bill in advance. You’re not sure why, but it feels like the right thing to do. His avoidance of you had increased over the last few weeks though, which left you with no time to talk. Tonight will have to be as good as any other. “Quiet, Y/N. You’ve never looked this pretty in your life, so why don’t you stick to curse-breaking and let me handle all of the real work.” You continue to grumble, but let her mangle your appearance. Rowan giggles and continues their reading. They’re dressed in a simple pair of black dress robes, and you think they look sleek and handsome. Tonks and Tulip had stopped by earlier but left immediately after getting dressed to plan out their night. You worry a little about what they’ll do but assume that at least no one will get hurt. Penny, of course, looks radiant. Her usual braids are pinned up into a bouquet shape with one pink rose in the center. She’s wearing a blush-colored chiffon dress that cuts off at the knees and delicate, floral jewelry. You know that Barnaby will be floored when he sees her. Watching her float around the dormitory brings you back a few weeks earlier. You had just come home from a date with Charlie, Pygmy Puff in hand. Sadly, you hear cries as soon as you enter the common room. You run over to your best friend. His eyes are red and brimming with tears, so you wipe them away with your sleeves and take his hands in yours. “Barney,” you beg. “I know how hard you try to act tough around everyone else, but this is me. Please tell me what’s been bothering you.” Normally, he’d try to talk his way out of it, but he had hit his limit. He musters up as much of a smile as he is capable of and nods. “I’ve been writing to my mum in Azkaban the last few weeks,” he starts, avoiding eye contact. “She’s…not great, but she’s my mum. She and my dad got a new lawyer, so they’ve been trying to get out.” “What do they want from you?” You thought that your words would come across far more gently, but you find it difficult to conceal your distaste for the couple. Your heart breaks for the boy in front of you. His relationship with his parents is complicated—they constantly push him to be someone that he’s not and tear him down for the person that he is, but he still loves them. “Well, at first, she wanted me to testify on their behalf,” Barnaby sighs. “You know, tell the court that they’ve always been good parents and that I need them around.” Lies. “But apparently, they wouldn’t even give them a public hearing no matter what their lawyer tried. After that, she spent some time letting me know everything she wants me to do to try and fix the family’s reputation. She wants me to focus on becoming an Auror and finding a pure-blood witch to marry.” You gasp involuntarily. “Barnaby, you’re fifteen. They can’t control your life like that.” “I’ve actually been working up the courage to turn her down. I know I’m not very smart, but I’ve been thinking that I really want to be a Magizoologist after graduation.” You remember the small creature you have for him and smile; he would be wonderful at caring for and studying magical creatures. “And I know it’s not exactly marriage, but there’s a girl I really like, and I don’t wanna mess that up for someone else’s mistakes.” You try to find the words to express just how proud of him you are, but his tone quickly changes. “After today, none of that matters though.” “What is that?” You ask cautiously, and he sighs again. “My mum wrote again today. Dad went kinda crazy after finding out that their lawyer was a muggleborn—let’s just say that they’re not getting out of there any time soon.” As much as you think they deserve it, you know that’s not what he wants to hear. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. At least with them far away from you, we can focus on what you want to do and what makes you happy.” You pause and reach for the carrier on the ground. “On that note, I actually have something for you that I think will help. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” He does as you say, so you pull out the small creature and place it gently in his palms. Barnaby’s eyes immediately shoot open and widen as far as they can. “What is this?” He asks in awe, petting the small critter gently with one of his hands. You smile and tell him everything you know, though it isn’t much. The Pygmy Puff keeps Barnaby distracted and happy for hours while he interrogates you about your day—focusing very heavily on the Charlie of it all. You open up to him about your mixed feelings, which in turn prompts him to admit his feelings for a certain Hufflepuff.

Penny quite literally slaps you back into focus to receive praise for her work. You look into the mirror and can’t even recognize the person staring back at you. You’re wearing a plain column gown with a sweetheart neckline, but in a striking crimson that contrasts starkly against your pale skin. The charms that Penny cast on your hair keep the blonde locks in loose ringlets that pool across your shoulders, and it’s accessorized by a simple golden flower crown. She brushed a small amount of bronze shadow to bring out the blue in your eyes and a sheer red over your lips. You can barely believe how different you look. “Wow, Penny. Thank you; I love it,” you admit earnestly. “Even though you painted me into a goddamn Gryffindor.” She winks back at you. “I knew it would appeal to a certain Weasley boy.” Penny pulls you and Rowan to the Great Hall, and you wonder how she’d guessed about Charlie. “I see our boys now.” Charlie spots your trio at the top of the staircase first; his mouth nearly falls open. Barnaby and Ben gape up as well, but Charlie has to whack Bill’s head to make him turn. His eyes lock with yours, and time feels slower. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and head down the stairs. “See,” Penny whispers. “Bill can’t take his eyes off of you.”

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daddygraves · 7 years

Text

Inktober Day 13. Foolish

Credit to @elletromil and @zombiisheep for the fic idea.

This fic takes place in an alternate crack universe, (hence the theme, foolish) where Roxy came with Eggsy and Merlin to the Statesman, and Whiskey is the steretypical yeehaw drunk uncle, Tequila the debauchery aficionado and Merlin and Ginger are the platonic besties and mum and dad of all of them. Which I guess makes Champ the grandpa!

Here goes, a full 24hours late! So much for ‘a few hundred words’. @iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

•••••••••••••

Eggsy was never into cowboys as a kid.

Like any boy whose dad was a soldier, he'd been starry-eyed over plastic toy guns and figurines of macho, muscled marines. His poor mum had to positively wrestle off his favourite, threadbare camo-print shirt off him each day before bed. And even then, he'd sneak it out of the washing basket and yank it back on when she wasn't looking.

So cowboys weren't very high on his interest list, and naturally, Eggsy never expected to meet one. London was running kind of low on gunslinging, boot wearing Southerners, as it happened. And even when Eggsy pulled off his transformation from rough chav to sleek sav, he thought gentleman spies who saved the world from certain doom and got to kiss princesses were as far as it went.

But as he'd smugly announced to Richmond Valentine, while the megalomanic lay drowning in his own blood, this ain't that kind of movie bruv. Kingsman life was anything but normal, so when HQ got blown sky high by the Golden Circle last month, Eggsy, Merlin, and yesterday, Rox, had ended up becoming quite well acquainted with some cowboys- Statesman, as it turns out, were America's resident breed of spy. All named after alcohol, in typical Yankee fashion.

He's still not that big a fan of cowboys. Especially when said cowboys decide lassoing him and the not-dead object of his unrequited affections together is a perfectly reasonable course of action.

"I'm telling you, Merlin, I'm perfectly fine to be cleared for active duty!" Roxy argues, ponytail swinging wildly as she and the Scottish quartermaster spar yet again over a constant source of argument- her moon-booted leg.

"Lancelot," Merlin returns calmly, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard at Ginger's desk. "Yeh've been out of the infirmary for less than a week, which yeh wouldn't've been in if yeh'd stayed in hospital in London, like the doctor ordered. But no, yeh had to charge onto the first bloody plane t' Kentucky, and caused another stress fracture in yeh leg due t' the cabin pressure."

"Roxy, he's right, honey," Ginger sighs, tapping away at her own computer. She's champing at the bit to start the competition with Merlin- prior to the current argument, there'd been a text ping up on Eggsy's glasses from Roxy. Merlin + Ginger having a hacking competition at 2pm. Let's go? Any form of distraction while they searched for the Golden Circle was more than welcome- even handlers need time off.

"What was I supposed to do, convalesce in my hospital bed while you go off and hunt down the people that destroyed Kingsman, and killed our colleagues?" the female agent retorts hotly, as both Merlin and Eggsy exclaim "Yes!" frustratedly. Eggsy loves his best friend, he really does. But he and she both know she's fighting an uphill battle, even if he's the only one willing to admit it.

"What's all this here commotion?" Champ, Statesman's agent-in-chief, moseys into the room, twirling a cigar expertly between his fingers. Two figures follow him in- Agent Whiskey, moustachioed and booted, and Kingsman's own Harry Hart, shaven and suited.

The sight of Harry, living and breathing, walking around unhindered, still knocked the breath from Eggsy's lungs. Too recently, he'd still been wallowing in the swamp-like sludge of unresolved emotions concerning Harry's apparent death. The crushing guilt, the excruciating vice of grief, the sickening self-loathing for his own stupidity, the memory that their last interaction was an argument-

Even now, it made his stomach knot.

"Champ," Roxy acknowledges the silver-haired Southerner briskly. "Please-"

"I wouldn't bother if I were you, darlin," Whiskey drawls, leaning himself against the nearby whitewashed wall. The deep brown eyes beneath the brim of his hat survey the scene unfolding with vague amusement.

"Harry here has just spent the past minute finishin' convincin' Champ here that you ain't going anywhere. Not 'til that here leg," he flicks his eyes to the moon boot strapped over Roxy's grey paintsuit. "Be fully healed up."

But before Roxy can unleash her wrath on Harry, Eggsy chimes in, tearing his eyes from the elder Kingsman finally.

"Harry's right, Rox, s'what I've been tryna tell ya. Ya only just got here, ya not fully healed, all ya gonna do is f-"

"Of course you take his side!" Roxy snaps back at him, indignation and fury clear in her eyes. Oh shit- he should know by now when to pick his battles with her. Hurricane Roxy was not an experience Eggsy enjoyed.

"What's tha supposed to mean?" Eggsy retaliates uncertainly, sneaking a sideways glance at Harry, who is also regarding Roxy with apprehension.

"Oh don't play coy now, boys," Whiskey purrs, raising an eyebrow smugly. Suddenly, the room seems a little too airtight, and far too warm. "You don't think we didn't all see your cute lil' reunion in Harry's room?"

"And can I just say," Agent Tequila, who has so far been silent, sprawled in a chair in the corner, contributes. "Ya'll shoulda see your here face when I pulled up that curtain on Galahad Sr.'s room, when ya first got here." He flicks his chin in Eggsy's direction, before leaning back to fish around in his jacket pockets for chewing tobacco.

Eggsy and Harry simultaneously erupt into indignant protests.

"What on earth-"

"Oh fuck off, all of ya-"

"Merely happy to see my protege-"

"I just found out he was alive, I fink my response was pretty appropriate-"

"He has a girlfriend-"

Not anymore, he didn't. Eggsy's gut gives a funny twist, but he quickly returns to the issue at hand. But with reflexes faster than the human eye, Whiskey's whip appears in the cowboy's hand. And Eggsy realises a second too late what's about to happen, as he and Harry stand side by side, still spluttering feeble excuses.

It all happens so quickly. The tight cord of the rope yanks the pair of men together instantaneously, so quickly the two bonk heads, and as they teeter on the spot momentarily, a previosuly unseen cupboard door is flicked open by Tequila. Eggsy and Harry only have a second to yowl in protest as a shove sends them toppling into the confines of a dark Statesman broom closet, and the secure click of a lock is heard on the other side.

There's a second of stunned silence. And then the pair of spies begin wriggling and hollering with all their might, bumping against all manner of cleaning items and the door.

"Pipe down in there, ya'll," Champ's voice filters through the light-light crack near the floor, as raucous laughter can be heard. "Merlin and Ginger be about to start the contest."

"Let us the fuck out!" Eggsy roars, as Harry adds peevishly "I second that motion."

"Short answer; no," Whiskey's tone can be heard now, and Eggsy can just picture the fucker inspecting his fingernails casually. "We're all sick to high heaven of ya'll's pining and lovelorn looks. I can't imagine what poor Merlin and Roxy here been having to endure, if we've only had just a taste of it these past few weeks."

The muffled sound of Merlin and Roxy agreeing with enthusiastic despair only incenses Galahads Jr. and Sr. more.

*******************************************************************************************

There's dead silence in the room, punctuated only by the furious clatter of computer keys being slammed by speedy fingers. Merlin and Ginger are hunchbacks over their keyboards, as the Statesman and Roxy look on nervously.

"How long d'you think it'll take them to give up and just admit it?" Roxy wonders aloud, as muted shouts and thumps still sound against the securely locked door.

"A good while yet, I should think," Champ chuckles, leaning his elbows on the back of Ginger's chair as he squints at the computer screen.

"Don't worry Ginger, ya'll gonna make mincemeat of this Scottish chap."

"Ha," Merlin mutters under his breath, face lit with almost evil glee as he determinedly chips his way through NASA's firewall.

**********************************************************************************************

So no only has Eggsy found himself buddy-buddy with a bunch of cowboys, where his best friend turns up less than a month after an entire mansion fell on her, with nothing but a broken leg to show for it. He finds himself face to face with a very not dead Harry fucking Hart, quite literally, shoved into a very cramped, dark cupboard, where a bottle of cleaning fluid is slowly leaking into his bespoke. Fan-fucking-tastic.

His shoulder's starting to get sore from ramming it against the sturdy, unmoving door. But nothing could compare to the sheer shattering feeling of when he'd found Harry alive, in that white padded room, and no trace of recognition had flitted across the slightly lined face of his former mentor.

Yep. Eggsy's in love with Harry. Of course he fucking is, as if shit couldn't get more complicated. Especially since he has, or used to have, a fucking girlfriend. But more on that later.

"Eggsy, enough."

"No!" Eggsy shouts at Harry utterly focused on ramming the door down with every ounce of strength he had left in him. He couldn't stay in here with Harry, he couldn't, it was too difficult-

"Eggsy, you are going to hurt yourself." Harry's tone is somehow so much calmer than it had been just moment earlier. "An injury would mean you were off the assignment, which we cannot afford. Please, stop."

Eggsy pauses, considering Harry's words. Giving the door one final whack, having no effect, he leans back against some very uncomfortable shelving. Which is hard to do, considering every movement he makes brings Harry with him, due to the sheer lack of space.

"They'll give it up eventually," Harry reassures him. But the elder spy seems ever so careful not to reveal any particular inclination or otherwise towards Eggsy.

Hmm.

*******************************************************************************************

"Ya'll want some dinner?" Tequila declares to the small gathering some hours later, still huddled around the computers. "This shit is takin' ages, makes a man work up an appetite."

"You've literally done nothing, Tequila," Ginger exclaims, but there's no bite in her words. "Do you want to swap with me and have a crack at finding NASA's correspondence with aliens?"

"Naw, I'm fine," Tequila brushes her off, getting to his feet. "They'd delete all that shit anyways."

"Ya'll want KFC?"

There's a chorus of 'yeah', and the youngest Statesman saunters out.

Champ exhales quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He's got smarts when he's on a mission, but that kid's brains wouldn't amount t' a hill o' beans."

"Funny that," Merlin interjects, completely focused on the task at hand. "Ginger's tech skills amount to about the same."

"Oh I cannot wait to wipe the floor with you, Merlin," the woman shoots back in good humour. "After the files I had to extract from the Pentagon last year, this is a goddamn cakewalk."

*******************************************************************************************

"Merlin." Harry's voice is loud enough within the tight confines of the cupboard that Eggsy is sure the tech whiz would've heard them.

"Not now, 'Arry. I'm busy. Stop texting me with your glasses, I'm tryin' to win a bottle of whisky."

"Merlin," Harry draws out the 'i', sounding almost whiney. "You wouldn't leave your oldest friend locked in a cupboard, would you?"

"I'm sure he would, given the amount of whinging you saddle him with about Eggsy." Whiskey japes.

What?

"Oi," Eggsy cries, straightening and staring Harry down accusingly. The older man has the decency to look slightly guilty, under the limited light the door frame provided. "Why're ya whinging 'bout me for?"

"It's not whinging," Harry protests somewhat feebly, staring at the ground, but Eggsy's right pissed off now.

"If anything, it's me who should be doing the whingin', eh? I'm the one you left behind, to go play the hero here!"

Harry's face changes, and Eggsy can just tell the taller man's hackles are finally up. Good. Let him suffer for a bit too.

"If you'd simply done as I asked, Eggsy, and completed all the tests, as instructed, we wouldn't've had a row. But to suggest I had your father stuffed, inside my house?!-"

Eggsy doesn't give a shit that he's interrupting, and that will only add fuel to Harry's already dangerous tone. "I said tha' shit in anger, bruv! Ya called me back with that cab like a dog on a fuckin' leash. And what 'bout ya sayin' that everything ya did for me was 'bout my dad anyways?"

He's sailing into dangerously emotional territory here, but Eggsy has really lost all his fucks to give. "Didn't I mean anything t' you?"

"You could not be further from the truth."

Harry's icy tone makes Eggsy revert to sulky silence.

"This is utterly fucking ridiculous," Harry sighs a short while later, rubbing his temples with both hands. His elbow nearly catches Eggsy in the face, and the slow sounds of enthusiasm and can be heard outside in the room, cheering Merlin and Ginger on. There's also the smell of fried chicken, wafting deliciously into the cupboard, and Eggsy's stomach lets out a rumble.

"Do you remember our breakfast, the day before your final test?" Harry asks suddenly, looking at Eggsy with interest. All anger has melted from his chestnut eyes.

"'Course I do," Eggsy mumbles, over the growing hubub outside. That morning was one of the few precious memories he had with Harry, and not one he was likely to forget.

"M'so sorry, Harry. 'Bout your house. It's all my fault."

"Nonsense, Eggsy," Harry placates him, even as the younger man protests.

"All ya furniture, Mr Pickle,-"

"Houses and antique furniture, even butterflies," Harry argues patiently, yet determinedly. "Theyre are all replaceable,. Mr Pickle is ingrained firmly into my memory, too. Even if he isn't sitting in my lavatory, he will always be in my heart."

There's silence again, apart from cheering, as both men consider Harry's words. "Now what I truly couldn't bear, would be being locked inside that awful padded room for the rest of my days, with no one to rescue me. As terrible as it sounds, without everything we've lost, you never would have found me again. So in a way, I must be grateful for all these tragedies. Because without them, I may never have remembered."

"The thought of not remembering such a large portion of my life- Kingsman, Melrin, you-" an unconscious shudder wracks Harry, jostling Eggsy in the small space. "It's unimaginable."

"But even if I didn't know you, during my period of amnesia..." Harry's voice trails off, and Eggsy meets his gaze again. "I wanted to."

Was there some hidden message behind Harry's words, that's flying right over Eggsy's head?

Maybe his should just come out with it. His conscience is nudging him every so gently, trying to build a scrap of confidence within him. When was Eggsy ever going to get the chance to tell Harry how he felt, in a private, dark cupboard, ever again?

Harry's arm knocks something, which makes a metallic souding rattle. Fumbling around in the dark corner of the cupboard, he suddenly cautiously brandishes a crowbar, of all things.

"Finally."

But as Harry squeezes his arm past to begin his assault on the cupboard door, something makes Eggsy catch the elder spy's muscular arm in hand.

"Harry, wait!"

The taller of the two freezes, looking to Eggsy questioningly.

"Yes?"

It all just comes out in a fumbling, mad rush, like water out of a spilt jug.

"Look this is really fuckin' awkward an' weird an- oh fuck it, I'm in love wif' ya and I don't know what-"

"What?" Harry's face is a beacon of astonishment. "What on earth?!- Your girlfriend?- you have-"

"No actually, I don't." Eggsy's breathing is shallow, and his palms are shaking, but he clenches them into fists. If he doesn't get this all out and over with now, he never will. He'll never be able to move on if he doesn't shoot straight and sharp, and tell this stupid, oblivious man how arse over tits for him Eggsy is. "We broke up, like we shouldve done months ago. Because she was only ever a distraction, as bad as that sounds, cos' you were dead, an' I was tryin' to get over you-"

Harry immediately tries to interject with urgency, and Eggsy is suddenly glad the chaos outside over the hacking race means no one can hear them.

"No. Shut up, ok, shut up. I'm trying to tell ya how I feel, I've been in love with ya since ya bailed me out of Holborn, if I dont say this now I'll never get the courage to do it again, because ya a tall, gorgeous fucking spy, who's literally sex on legs, I know ya don't love me back, this'll be real awkward once we bust open that door, but I get it it's all good, I'll leave you be, cos ya in love w me dad or somethin-"

"Don't you dare".

Harry Hart, chest heaving, spits, and shocks Eggsy into silence with nothing but a burning look. Something that vaguely sounds like a squeak leaves Eggsy's chest, and he's abruptly aware of how close they have been, this whole time in the matchbox of a cupboard, chests touching.

"Don't you dare go and leave me again, Gary Eggsy Unwin. Because, if you would ever let me finish, I am not in love with your father."

Eggsy's bewilderment is clearly plastered upon his face, because Harry sighs heavily, and with frustration, ignoring the apparent stadium full of football fans hollering outside. He lays those massive, elegant hands of his on Eggsy's shoulders for emphasis.

"I am hopelessly and utterly in love with you, you gigantic pillock".

Oh my God. This had to be a dream, Eggsy thinks faintly, as this beautiful ray of numbness fills his brain. He was dreaming, he must be, as a slow smile slides across his face.

"Is this the bit where we kiss, then?"

******************************************************************************************

"Go, Merlin, go!" Roxy screeches, hands pressed to her mouth in tights fists of anticipation, as Merlin and Ginger thunder down the home stretch of their race, hands a blur of slamming keys.

"Geddim', Ginger!" Champ howls, Tequila and Whiskey echoing the sentiments of encouragement, as both quartermasters clatter away, slit-eyed and teeth-gritting.

"Yes!" The choppy bob shoves her roller chair away from the desk, arms raised in victory, and is immediately drawn into a jumping circle of victory by her Statesman colleagues, whooping and hooting. Merlin graciously bows his head, Roxy placing a comforting arm on his shoulder, as the two amusedly observe the scene of celebration. Until a lightbulb goes off in the resident Lancelot's head.

"Time to let them out I think," she utters, and in a few short steps, arrives at the cupboard door, and flicks the latch open.

Galahad Jr. and Sr. emerge from the confines of the dark cupboard, with just as much grace as they entered it. But this time, their embrace, which makes both men topple to the floor humiliatingly, seems utterly consensual.

And now it's Roxy and Merlin's turn to join the celebrations, as their best friends pick themselves off the floor, but link hands, smiling a little bashfully.

"You owe me a hundred quid, Ginger!" Merlin announces with relish, reclining in his chair.

"Not 'til I get my bottle of this supposedly amazing scotch whiskey, minus the e, for kicking your ass in hacking."

#inktober #inktober kingsman #inktober hartwin #hartwin #kingsman #kingsman 2 #kingsman 2 spoilers #kingsman 2 canon divergence #k2 spoilers #k2 canon divergence #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman: the golden circle spoilers #k: tgc #k2 hartwin #eggsy unwin #galahad #harry hart #taron egerton #colin firth

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jawllines · 7 years

Text

OKAY SO A WHILE AGO I WROTE VAMPIRE HARRY AND THERE WAS A LAST PART WHERE THEY WERE GOING TO FUCK THAT I NEVER FINISHED BUT HERE WAS WHAT IT WAS GOING TO BE!!

iv.

Harry is no virgin, obviously, in his 100+ years he's had sex with a good amount of people.

However, none of those people had been humans.

And now Harry has a human who he loves dearly, who is getting antsy with him as each day goes by.

His dilemma is clear. How was Harry supposed to trust himself to bed a human without hurting her in some way? Vampire sex was rough, raw, hot and heavy, with lots of biting and scratching, pulling, sometimes throwing -- it's a lot of stuff where Harry's inhibitions have gone entirely and all he's thinking with was his prick. A vampire can take a lot because they're and able to reciprocate it, whereas a human wouldn't be able to handle most of what they do, so that means Harry has to learn how to have sex with a human before he can even think to touch Y/N.

Or that was the plan, at least, it was really hard to not think about it. When he'd eaten her out that was one thing and he'd almost lost himself doing it, Harry could only imagine how his body would react to being inside of her. In warm, pulsing, tight walls that draw him nearer and the thought of hitting that spot deep inside her and the reaction she would have makes him shudder. It's images like these that make him hesitant to let her kiss him for long before he starts in with something he might regret, no matter how she cements her mouth to his with greedy fingers crumpling in his shirt like a plea. '

It's been a few weeks, closing in on a month since Y/N found out exactly what Harry was. Kristie is locked away for now and with strict instructions to not listen to whatever "delusions" she might spit at them, the black mass that had been controlled by her has been eliminated by means of destroying the charm she made for it (which was this whole, complicated thing Harry barely remembers reading about, but basically she concentrated her dark thoughts into a small jewel and whenever she wanted Y/N to be sought after she would give it a squeeze three times), Des has been resorted to only knowledge of Y/N's existence as a "blood whore", and he doesn't seem to really care about that much because their business was booming. It was the calm after the storm, everything slow and easy and nice, so it would be the perfect time to do it. The perfect time to bed her as they both desire.

He knows its insensitive to keep bringing Liam into his life with this human considering his own circumstances, but in a weird way Harry thinks he might like it a bit. Like he might be simultaneously living through him or something, but Harry doesn't mind it -- actually thinks it might be good for Liam to enact some of his dating fantasies on the two (for example Liam keeps sending him these brochures for winter wonderlands they can go visit because "they just love colorful lights Harry, do it for her") -- it makes him less sad, at least.

So he asks Liam late one night, when Y/N had fallen asleep strewn out on the couch, limbs every which way and making sure there was no room for Harry there. It hadn't been on purpose, she'd just been studying for her finals and bam -- she's out like a light -- and although he loves lying with her, this gives him and Liam some time to speak. "I -- Liam?" He begins sheepishly, "I've got a question."

"Hm?" He hums his response, eying the notes Y/N had been highlighting and even popping the cap off with his teeth to highlight some additional information he thinks she should look over. Liam was always doting like that -- for both Harry and Y/N both, like he felt he was responsible for them in some way. This led to frequent occasions in which Harry has woken up to a blanket being fanned over them as they lie on the couch, having fallen asleep together watching a movie or summat, and a plate of food still steaming like he might've just left. It reminds Harry of being young, and it feels like Liam is giving him a pass to relax and have fun with Y/N, since the immediate danger is no longer prevalent.

Harry gnaws at his lip before finally continuing, "I feel as if I don't know how to have sex with Y/N in an. . .an adequate way."

Liam's head lifts, making brief confused eye contact before peeping back down at her notes, "What do you mean?"

"I worry I'll hurt her." He adds, trying to preoccupy his hands with something but he can't figure out what to do so he just twiddles his fingers together in his lap, "It's like -- she's so fragile; like porcelain almost. I don't want to hold too tight or bite too hard or lose myself and start. . .I just don't want to scare her."

"Now Harry," Liam sets the highlighter down now, looking towards him, "You need to talk to her about this --"

"I know! I know, I just. . .what if she thinks she can take more than she can actually handle? And I'm allowed to bite her during sex, no? Or would that be -- if she got all floaty how she does, then I'd have to stop right?"

Liam rolls his eyes, "Really, Harry, there is no science to it. With a human sure you have to be a certain level of gentle, but what's important is to talk to her. You can't find out her boundaries from me, so ask her."

Harry brows furrow, because Liam literally has answers to everything else but the one time he feels so embarrassed and sheepish to speak with her about it, Liam's got nothing. He knows it's important that he gets her input, but he doesn't want to come about it in a way that makes him sound nervous. All he wants is for her to understand she is in safe, capable hands, but how is she supposed to feel safe if he's fiddling with his fingers and asking how she would like his cock in her?

A hand whacks him in the back, making him perk his head up and turn to face her where she lay still blissfully unconscious. Fondly does he smile as he twists around, fixing the blanket from around her waist so it was over her shoulders and tucking her arm back onto the couch beneath it. Even when he's lying with her, Y/N has a knack for flopping around and rather than doing it on the huge portion of her side of the bed, she'd been resorted to such a smaller size at her dorm that she stays within her limits and Harry is always within her limits. This includes random bonks in his bicep, or his chest, or if her legs are feeling particularly feisty, his groin is in danger.

With a parting stroke of his fingers to her cheek, he looks back at Liam who gazes at the two, obviously endeared, "When has she ever made you feel silly for asking something, Moppet? Tell me." Harry gets quiet, and Liam nods, "She hasn't, so there is no reason for you to fret about asking her this. I mean, if I'm honest Harry, she might be the most open minded human to find out about vampires in the entire history of history. Even some feeders are more reluctant to the idea, but she's accepted this part of you into her life fully, without any objections. Talking to her about this should be easier than talking about it with a vampire partner."

It's true -- Y/N has been very open to the idea of Harry being what he is. She still lets him feed from her, though now she knows what he's doing exactly, sometimes she'll let him bite other places for leisure feeding. They still cuddle, and watch TV together and she still falls asleep easy around him so she's not afraid he's going to try anything. Really, the only difference is that she knows what he is, and she understands that they can't be very open about it, and she's not put off about the whole time travel thing or the fact someone was out to get her because of him.

"Ya dolt! Why I should I care about all that stuff, it's really trivial in comparison to the amount of love I've got stored up for you." She had told him one day and it made him so happy he bent down and kissed her while she was midsentence, having gone on to talk about her lecture that day but Harry had been so overwhelmed. Y/N is the greatest thing to happen to him, he's certain of it, and he's so lucky to have her in his life.

"Gosh, how come you always know what to say Liam?" Harry utters, plopping back down on the floor in front of him.

Liam grins, "Cos I'm smarter than you."

. . .

"Bunny, we're going to need to talk about sex."

When Harry had played this out in his head, never did he imagine that he would spit it out while they were out to dinner at one of Beau's restaurants, but apparently his mouth resents his brain and decided this was the perfect time. They were in a more secluded portion, yes, with a fancy Japanese lantern decorated in the pink petals of cherry blossoms, emitting a warm glow down over their table (for mostly French inspired food, Beau has a lot of influences from different country's décor wise), however they were still within ears reach of a few waiters and close enough that if they didn't speak quietly, a very stony looking business man would overhear them as he's out with someone who is 100% not his wife.

Y/N sputters on her water, a few droplets clinging around her mouth before she swipes them away with the back of her hand, "Oi! What'd I say about saying interesting stuff when I'm drinking?"

Harry laughs some while he hands her a napkin (Y/N requested extra because "I'll make a mess if it isn't an option, I swear I'm the worst at eating), "Sorry, it slipped out. Didn't know you were gonna spit at me."

"Stop, if anyone hears they'll think I'm a monster!"

"Aren't you?" Harry rejoinders, biting his bottom lip a little, "There's just a few things we need to discuss." He continues to say.

Her face gets a little softer, "Hey, if you don't wanna do it then it's fine," she tells him, and Harry's brows furrow, "I get, like -- if it's too much too soon, or like it's the whole interspecies thing or even if you don't want me in that way but --"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a tick Petal, this is not about not wanting you! Jesus fuck" He cuts her off, his voice loud before he remembers where they are and then he lowers it a considerable amount, so only she can hear, "god do I fucking want you. It's all I can think about sometimes," he continues to say, and Y/N's eyes widen, setting her burger down entirely, "We just -- I don't want to hurt you. I'm. . .I'm stronger than I look and if I want you this bad I'm afraid I might be too rough, so I just -- we needed to go over some things. What you like and what you don't."

"What I like and what I don't?" Y/N repeats slowly, like she's tasting it on her tongue and Harry nods, "Like my kinks or something? Getting spanked and all that?"

Harry doesn't know why speaking about this gets him so. . .bashful. Really, Harry thinks he's the least bashful person he knows but hearing Y/N speak so freely makes him jittery and reluctant to speak out of fear of a squeaky voice. So he nods once more, trying to hold eye contact with the very curious human, who is clearly running through a list in her head.

"Huh, I don't know if I thought about it extensively before," she tells him, picking through her fries as she digs around in her brain, "Well, I've thought about it but I haven't acted on them. Like spanking -- I think I like that."

Shifting in his seat, Harry hums, "Is that right?"

Y/N plays with her bottom lip, "And I think I'd like if I could suck you, but that's not a kink is it? Also there's something about you that compels me with want to swallow. Also I kind of want you to cum on me too, I think I'd like that."

Harry chokes on his spit.

"And maybe. . .well, there's this weird one I wanna try. Maybe a few, actually, like I kind of want to be tickled while I'm on your coc--"

"Baby! Baby, fuck, slow down." Harry digs his fingers into his thigh in attempts to ground himself, letting his eyes fall shut momentarily and shaking his head, "Are you trying to work me up?"

When he opens his eyes, Y/N's brows are furrowed, "Hey, you asked."

He couldn't argue with that, "Okay, okay, how 'bout -- here, I'll propose stuff to you and you say yes or no, yeah?" Y/N nods her assent, absently popping her knuckles like she's getting ready to take a quiz. Harry takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts in order so they could progress slowly and not go full throttle as Y/N has proven to do without much thought to it. "Let's start with some nice, g-rated questions, yeah? What time of day would you rather do it?"

"Anytime," she answers quickly, "I think I'd like it most either late at night or early in the morning. I know I don't look the greatest early in the morning --"

"You look the greatest always. Pretty lil' thing you are." Harry murmurs.

"--but you always look really nice in the mornings and I like the lighting too, in your room, it's very nice."

"Alright, nice, I like the mornings too. Then we can eat breakfast afterwards?" Y/N agrees, grinning wide, "Good, we're getting somewhere. Are a you a kisser during? Or would you rather us kiss at the beginning and that's it."

She scrunches her face at him, "I like kissing you always."

"Are you okay with me giving you love bites?" She nods, "Are you okay with me biting you? Just a bite, not like drink from you?" She nods once more, "And you're okay with me having my mouth on you? Don't really need an answer for that considering you came all over my tongue before, hmm?" And once more, with a sheepish nibble at her lip, she nods again. Harry likes that she gets a little squirmy when he says it, because it means he's not the only one affected by talking about it, and he feels better.

Harry lets Y/N take a bite of her burger, watching her chew slow like she's thinking, before he continues, "Do you want me gentle or rough?"

"A mix, maybe?" She replies, wiping at the sauce on her lip, "I -- I like both. I like the idea of you manhandling me, a lot, and like not mean like or anything just move me however you want."

"Dirty talk?" He lowers his voice a little more for this one.

Y/N smiles, "Oh yes, yes, yes! That'd be great, um. . .I don't like too mean of names, like whore or bitch -- those don't sit well with me, but slut is okay. And maybe if you could call me them pet names, and I could call you Daddy or something?"

"Jeez," Harry tuts his tongue, shaking his head, "You're a naughty one."

. . .

Y/N finds, throughout their conversation, that she would let Harry do whatever he wanted apparently. She was saying yes to things she's never tried, she's never thought of trying, or was otherwise repulsed by, but the thought of Harry doing them to her made it all so enticing. By the end of it there was a sparkle in her lower belly that would be hard to pacify through the night, and she was in a sure need of a panty change that's for damn sure. For a moment, she wonders, if with his heightened senses he can smell somethings different or if he just knows from the way she melts into his side when they walk to the car, and she's a little clingier to him than normal, nestling into his neck, nipping at his ear.

"You're snuggly tonight." Harry hummed low, puckering his lips up for her to kiss her, "Has it something to do with our conversation?"

Huh. . .so she guesses she's as transparent as she thought. Y/N refrains from answering -- she doesn't want to seem pushy, they just talked things through, she was just a little. . .ready.

Apparently Harry knows that too, as he moves to slide his hand down her tummy but Y/N grabs his wrist, stopping him before her brain could catch up to what she's doing, "No," she starts, looking at him and trying not to lose herself in his marble green eyes because from this close they look like waves of a water mass, plodding gently that she could dive into, float in, swim around, and what was she doing again? Oh, yeah, "Like, I wanna be desperate?" She says it as a question/

Abruptly, Harry moans aloud, pulling her tighter to him and letting his head fall back, "Bunny, you can't just say things like that," he whines, lulling his head around to pout at her. "You'll be my undoing."

. . .

Harry hadn't been to sleep yet, staring at Y/N asleep in his arms with early morning sunlight bathing their skin like the beginning of an aesthetically pleasing, artistic movie. The Christmas lights she'd begged him to string up still on, adding just a little extra twinkle to the room like stars, and she's toasty; her skin felt as if it was kissed by the sun on a summer day and it brings shivers to his body. Even in the dead of winter she could be so warm, it makes him not want to move at all for the rest of forever. He'd gladly have Liam bring them breakfast, lunch, and dinner to where they lie and he's pretty sure Liam wouldn't mind it. Doting as he is on them, he'd probably encourage their closeness and do as he could so they were glued together.

After their conversation the night before, and after Y/N more or less telling him she was into delayed gratification, Y/N took her shower first and came out in one of his sweaters and no pants, only this panties that really shouldn't be as cute as they are. There are pears on them ("I get my panties from Walmart. Sue me." Harry overheard her telling Niall once, after he said her taste in underwear was less than satisfactory), and a little bit of her bum peeks out at him tantalizingly. She hopped up on the bed, boasted about the chunky evergreen colored socks on her feet before she burrowed beneath his covers and against his side. Inhaled deep, murmured idly about loving how he smells like the forest and citrus, before she was asleep a mere ten minutes later.

And Harry had been left with the filthiest most fluffiest thoughts he's ever had. Images of cuddling her invaded with being buried inside her, fingers dug into her skin, biting down hard on her shoulder to stop the more than embarrassing whines he couldn't seem to keep quiet. And vice versa, depictions of her sucking at him desperately with watery eyes pleading for him to nut off in her mouth are then suffocated with thoughts of her standing up sweetly from where she kneeled, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close.

He wishes the cutesy stuff was more grounding, but it only made him want her that much more.

When Harry thinks about it -- vampire sex is good, sure, rough and hot and sweaty, but the appeal of a human when you could have no restraints with a different partner was something hard to describe. They're softer, and their blood smells good -- ample in amount, the thought alone of it flowing through her body was equally parts comforting and intoxicating. When Harry digs his fingers into Y/N's skin it gives against him, often she's easier to move and positon; pliant and complaisant, and that's just from what he knows from kissing her. And oh, kissing, that's a whole different thing entirely. Her kisses were much like her; sometimes playful and frolicsome, with a darting tongue, nipping at his lip, whining when he maneuvers away from her mouth a few times. Other times so slow, thoughtful, with intent to drive him wild to the point he has to pull himself away before his cock gets any ideas.

She always touched him like he could break, never too rough nor rude with him. Much how he handles her, Y/N skates her fingers against his skin before like she's trying to decide how to hold him, and when she does it's gentle as can be. Only slight tugs and soft squeezes, opposed to what people like Kristie would do to him, because their bodies withstand more but it's nice to be treated like glass. It means she cares -- doesn't even want to take the chance of hurting him.

He just can't help himself when he kisses her cheeks, soft and supple against his mouth. A grumble elicits from his very own sleeping beauty, reaching up to scratch at her face a bit before melting back down into the mattress. Harry bites back a coo; humans are real cute when they sleep too, that's something he'll never be able to get over. All floppy limbs and sleep sighs -- sometimes Y/N murmurs about him in her sleep too, quite often incoherent things but he can always make out his name.

Pressing her hair off her forehead, Harry leans down and kiss there too. As much as he likes watching her sleep (as creepy as that sounds), he likes when she's awake too. They've got nothing to do today and it's barely budding on 8AM, so she wouldn't be happy with him if he woke her up. However she did tell him that she wanted to have sex with him in the morning, when the winter sun makes their skin glisten like crystals and Harry's eyes are all, "soft and sweet".

#omgMGMMGMGGM #harry smut #i CANT REMEMBER IF THEY GOT TO THE BANGING OR NOT

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yahooben · 7 years

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'Horizon: Zero Dawn' Review: Combat and storytelling shine in spectacular sci-fi epic

‘Horizon: Zero Dawn’ is a gorgeous game with a familiar gameplay style and addictive story.

Zombies might be trendy, but when it comes to all-ages geek reliability, you’d be hard pressed to beat out dinosaurs and robots — an unofficial poll of my toddler’s pre-school class confirms this.

So it goes, then, that a game featuring robotic dinosaurs would be off to a pretty good start. Indeed, Sony and developer Guerilla Games couldn’t have fared much better in the run-up to the release of the Sony (SNE) PS4 exclusive, “Horizon: Zero Dawn.” A darling at trade shows like E3 and Gamescom, ”Horizon’s” dirt-meets-metal, futuristic take on prehistory managed to capture the imagination of even stodgy gamers. And considering how many fantastical worlds we have conquered and beasts we have slain, that’s not easy.

But “Horizon” doesn’t just score points for its mechanized monsters. This is an open-world epic that borrows from the past in the best ways possible: a smidgen of “Shadow of Mordor,” a dash of “Far Cry,” a teaspoon of “Assassin’s Creed,” a shot of “Tomb Raider,” maybe a whiff of “The Witcher,” all jammed together and wrapped in a setting literally centuries ahead of the rote sci-fi hooey most games foist off as a plot. Derivative? A little, but within minutes “Horizon” makes you forget about its inspirations and dive headfirst into its fresh — and flat-out fun — future.

Extinction event

“Horizon” is pleasantly set many years past the boring blast zone of most post-apocalyptic games. In the far future, dinosaur-like machines roam the earth, living in relative harmony with tribes of hunting and gathering humans. You’re Aloy, a motherless outcast of the spiritual Nora tribe. Raised by her adoptive father, Aloy stumbles upon a wearable earpiece buried in an underground bunker from the age of the Old Ones (us, or thereabouts). Called a “Focus,” the device effectively slaps a layer of AR over the real-world.

The machines, as it turns out, are starting to get a little bitey (and shooty), a fact that dovetails into an attack by a rival tribe. Aloy thus leaves the nest to track down these enemies, explore the world and ultimately discover the secrets of both her enigmatic past and the strange world itself. And, naturally, kill things to save things.

The dino-robots in ‘Horizon’ get a little feisty, and that’s no good for you.

Though “Horizon’s” distant future tribalism gives off a “Cloud Atlas” vibe, it isn’t a vague sketch. The developers go to great lengths to root every inch of their world in lore; every rusted, half-buried chunk of metal and dilapidated structure is there for a reason. The story is a slow burn, revealing only hints of What The Hell Happened for the bulk of its 40-hour run, and it’s better for it. I was drawn back to the main plot not out of duty but genuine interest. For fear of spoiling anything I won’t get into the details; suffice to say, Aloy’s journey touches on all sorts of contemporary techno-political issues. This is a sci-fi tale any genre fan can get behind.

Her rise from outcast to hero, while unremarkable on paper, is surprisingly effective, too, thanks again to how deftly the developers weave plot points into her development. Ashly Burch’s excellent voicework gives Aloy, an interesting character from the outset, marvelous emotional depth. The rest of the cast can’t quite keep up — many of the voices and characters are forgettable — but Aloy is strong enough to carry the entire story.

Robots in disguise

Horizon’s great narrative is supported by what’s become a pretty standard open-world loop of floating back and forth between the game’s startling vistas and a huge overworld map littered with things to do, baubles to collect and fogged terrain to uncover. It’s here where the game’s Ubisoft (UEN.F) inspirations are most apparent: locating and scaling giraffe-like Tallnecks to uncover more of the map is straight out of “Assassin’s Creed,” while its resource gathering/item crafting system (need a bigger quiver? Go shoot some boars!) largely mimics “Far Cry,” even including little icons denoting machine spawn sites.

Aloy’s Focus device helps her assess her targets and find their weaknesses before they find her’s.

I was initially put off by the similarities, but those machines give it a unique twist. Modeled after real-world animals both current and prehistoric, the robots present a constant threat. If you were intimidated by, say, panthers in “Far Cry,” just wait until you meet your first Stalker, a super-sized robo-cheetah with stealth camo and sniper lasers. Docile robotic grazers can quickly turn deadly; the bigger, nastier beasts like the crocodilian Snapmaw often come in packs and will send a shiver down your spine even when you’ve leveled up a bit. Discovering a new machine is always thrilling, as is figuring out how the hell to take it down.

The thrill of the hunt

That’s a credit to “Horizon’s” excellent combat. Aloy primarily wields a variety of bows capable of firing powerful elemental arrows, but she also uses slings, ropes, and even a gun that shoots tripwires to drag the beasts to the ground. Each machine has strengths and weaknesses, helpfully highlighted when viewed through your Focus and catalogued in a crucial database that gives tips on how to best defeat these things.

‘Horizon’ is an absolutely gorgeous game with beautiful vistas and intriguing enemies.

You can, for instance, try picking off the metal plates shielding the heart of a monstrous Thunderjaw (a T-Rex by way of DARPA) to reveal its soft spot, or you might prefer to forcibly remove the beast’s back-mounted disc launcher and use it as a weapon. Aloy also can learn how to “override” machines, which will temporarily bring them to her side to wreak havoc in combat. Ammo can be crafted on the fly, so you’ll never really need to leave combat to fiddle with settings. The result is action that is simultaneously immediate and strategic, and thanks to good controls and crunchy feedback, extremely rewarding.

Aloy’s devastating ranged weaponry, however, belies her underdeveloped melee attacks. Considering how quickly machines can close the gap to chew on your face, you’d expect more than one quick and one heavy attack with Aloy’s trusty spear. But that’s about it. Even late in the game, you’ll be hammering on your trusty dodge-roll, tossing in a few good whacks, and then looking to back out and shoot again. The melee upgrade path is pretty meager, and the surprising lack of an enemy lock-on leads to occasionally frustrating swings and misses.

Horizon makes up for it with potent stealth mechanics that, initially at least, help you deal with otherwise out of your league enemies. Hiding in tall grass to sneak up and take down a Raptor-like Watcher is satisfying. But it’s just as underdeveloped as the melee combat, with no snap-to-cover system to gain protection from projectiles.

You’re going to have to fight these. And it’s going to hurt.

The game’s tame skill system also lacks pizazz. Only a few upgrades, like the ‘Tinker’ ability that lets you reassign modifications or the ability to ride certain robots as mounts, fundamentally impact the game. The best path to a better Aloy is to just get better at the game.

Not that this is a problem, because “Horizon’s” smooth learning curve ensures you’re never totally out of a fight. It’s a challenging game, to be sure, but the battles are more breathtaking than thumb-breaking. It’s beautifully balanced, reminiscent of the superb “Shadow of Mordor.”

It looks beautiful, too. Despite its post-apocalyptic status, Horizon’s world is lush and dynamic. Green fields give way to arid deserts. Climb foothills and you’ll touch frigid, snowy mountaintops. Each region organically flows into the next, a seamless, grounded open-world. This is most definitely a screenshot game. Unfortunately, Horizon struggles a bit when things get more personal. Aloy and other characters look fine, but the lip synch during cut-scenes is often wonky, effectively torpedoing dramatic moments. This isn’t “Uncharted 4.”

Just a few of the not-so-cuddly robotic monsters awaiting you in the world of ‘Horizon: Zero Dawn.’

And while your mind will invariably float to other games, “Horizon” quickly recaptures it. A few hours in, the bulk of its open-world still shrouded in secrecy, it hit me that the game isn’t trying to re-invent the wheel so much as remind us how cool wheels are in the first place. It successfully marries open-world shenanigans with a great story, a “Witcher”-sized challenge, and keeps it humming with smart, addictive combat against a tide of brilliant enemies. Our species might lack good judgment from time to time, but “Horizon” proves we’re still worth saving.

What’s hot: Terrific story, engaging until the very end; magnificent robotic dino-beasts; intense, heady action; captivating world

What’s not: Weak melee; skill tree relatively small; at times a little too derivative

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auroraphilealis · 7 years

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A Familiar Kind of Love Chapter Eighteen

A Familiar Kind of Love

Genre: Chaptered, ace/aro (flux and other experiences including but not limited to queerplatonic relationships), self discovery, witches, slow burn, getting together (eventually and in a mixed romantic/platonic way), RP format

Warnings: inaccurate herbology/plant & medicine stuff, self-esteem issues & confused hierarchy systems between familiars & witches (that does get resolved), threatened non-con (later, warned in chapter, and non-explicit), explicit discussions of nudity/sexual content but no actual smut, light experiences of ace/aro discrimination & feelings of discomfort/dysphoria during self-discovery, swearing

Summary: Born in a world full of magic, Dan spends his days running an apothecary and curing the sick. Potions and antidotes are his only friends, and he lives a happy life of quiet solitude - until a familiar he never wanted takes it all away. Forced to make a decision that’s life or death for one of them, Dan and Phil have to learn to co-exist together, entering a journey of self-discovery… and a familiar kind of love. Ace/Aro

Word Count: 13,830 this chapter

Thank you to @vanillasolitude who we could not have done this without. Every inch of their commentary and editing was a huge confidence boost, and we can not thank Emily enough for even being willing to do this with us. Seriously, it was a mammoth task and Emily just completely rose to the occasion, so giant thanks from us!

Updates: Monday & Wednesday & Friday

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

For reference, @insanityplaysfics is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

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Chapter Eighteen

Phil slept on and off for what seemed like the rest of the day. He didn't stir much, unlike the night before when he had been a cat, unable to do more than cat nap from time to time. Occasionally, Phil would feel Dan nudge him awake and force Phil to do things for him like put something cold in his mouth, and he thought he remembered taking another potion that tasted like crap, but Dan never left his side. Phil could sense him using his magic for things, but he didn't move Phil or bother him too much in his sleep, just allowing Phil to rest instead.

Phil appreciated it more than he could say, snuffling against Dan but mostly happy where he was, just laying against his chest.

When he did finally wake up, more clear headed than before and finally feeling less horrible about the cat who'd bothered him in the early hours of the morning, Phil could see that the sun had gone down again. He yawned and stretched against Dan, nuzzled his chest a few times, and then sat up, body suddenly very restless. He was finally alert when he opened his eyes, and turned to find that Dan was apparently dozing himself, and looking particularly cute as he did so.

Phil smiled at him, and reached up with gentle fingers to press aside the bit of his fringe that was falling into his eyes. The motion was enough to rouse Dan, apparently, as he jolted awake with a loud cry of "What, what?" as if he wasn't sure if everything was okay. It made Phil giggle, and he ended up reaching for Dan's fingers and squeezing around them.

"Morning sleepy head," he teased, as if Dan had been the one to sleep all day.

Dan blinked, jolted awake before his time, and stared around the room in a slight panic. Was Phil okay? Had he moved? Dan must have dozed off without realising it as the day wore on, because he certainly felt as if he'd only just woken up. He glanced around in a slight panic until he caught sight of Phil sending him a mischievous grin, and then Dan settled back down again.

Phil was here, and he looked okay. Better than okay, actually. His eyes were brighter than before, and he was using actual sentences to speak to Dan, which was definitely an improvement. Maybe the potions Dan had forced down his throat were starting to work.

"Excuse you," Dan huffed, and reached out to ruffle Phil's hair up into spikes to retaliate. He sat up with a loud yawn, rubbing his eyes. It must be evening by now, because the sky outside the window was dark again. They'd properly messed up their sleeping schedules this time, but Dan couldn't even bring himself to care. Spending a day cuddled in bed with Phil was not a waste of a day in Dan's book.

He glanced back at Phil once his eyes were scrubbed, smiling a little and squeezing Phil's fingers back, glad that Phil had reached for him. "How are you feeling? Still whining like a spoiled child?" he teased with a smirk.

Phil ducked his head as Dan reached out and scrubbed up his hair, spiking it up a bit and making a mess of the sweaty locks - which reminded Phil of just how dirty and sweaty and sticky he currently felt. He shook his head as Dan pulled away, but he was grinning, staring down at Dan fondly and almost tempted to shove his own fingers through Dan's rumpled hair as well. He didn't, too invested in holding Dan's hand instead, and certain, since the world was still kind of spinning that if he attempted to reach out with his other hand, he'd surely go crashing down on top of Dan.

"I don't whine," Phil whined, and immediately blushed, giving in and letting go of Dan's warm fingers to swat at his chest playfully. He pouted as Dan laughed at him, and then just kind of... collapsed back on top of him, squashing Dan and uncaring when he let out an "ooph," now that he'd been forced to lay back on the bed. Phil made himself comfortable, shuffling about until his face was in the crook of Dan's neck, and then placed a kiss there.

"My head hurts," he complained. "Take care of me?" he requested, even as he knew Dan would do anything for him, even as he knew he was proving the other male right about his whiny spoilt-ness.

Dan huffed when he was unceremoniously pushed back down onto the bed and forced to resume his job as Phil-pillow, which he didn't remember signing up for, actually, but apparently had no choice in the matter now. He shook his head with a fond smile, and went back to carding his fingers through Phil's hair as Phil pushed his face as close into Dan's neck as he could.

"Of course I'll take care of you," Dan murmured in return, poking Phil's cheek gently. "I can't let the whiny child go without a responsible adult, now can I?" He chuckled when Phil whacked his chest again, though he supposed he deserved it. Still. It wasn't Dan's fault Phil was so cute and needy when he was sick.

"That'll be the fever, making your head hurt." Dan assessed him as best he could, pushing Phil's hair back to feel his forehead again. The fever was down a bit, he thought, but still raging much higher than it should be. He tutted. "Bed rest, I think, for a few more days. Have you been feeling dizzy at all?" He slipped his fingers back through Phil's hair, gently tangling the strands. The gesture wasn't even just to comfort Phil; Dan was growing to love the feeling of that soft, silky texture against his fingers.

It seemed their new thing was going to be Phil whacking Dan every time he decided to be a cheeky little shit, but Dan just laughed it off even as Phil pouted against his skin. He curled into Dan, soaking up his warmth, feeling suddenly very cold, and pushed his arms around Dan's mid section. He just wanted to cuddle, and hugging Dan was literally the best feeling in the world. The least Dan could do was stop making fun of him - and yet, Phil knew he didn't really want him to. His heart sang every time Dan teased him good naturedly, and something told him that was Dan's best way of showing affection. Phil could accept that just as easily as he was accepting Dan's arms winding around him in return.

"Leave me alone," he complained, tightening his arms around Dan so he couldn't tease Phil back by doing just that. Dan merely chuckled at the complaint, and continued on, threading his fingers through Phil's hair as he spoke and asked gentle questions.

"Dizzy," he agreed, closing his eyes. "But only when I sit up." That was why, in large part, Phil had decided to merely shove Dan back into the bed and resume using him as a pillow. And the fact that he was cold. "I want to take a shower," he complained. "Or a bath," he added, sniffing at himself and wrinkling his nose at the scent. He was covered in sweat. Was that why he felt so cold? He shivered, and then buried his face back into Dan's neck, pressing another soft kiss there just because he could.

"I refuse to stay in bed without you, though. So bed rest is implausible. Find another cure."

Dan chuckled again, but he was undeniably in love with the way Phil was so clingy like this. He kept pressing little kisses to Dan's neck, as well, which only led Dan's thoughts down the track of what if they kissed elsewhere, what if he got brave enough to ask Phil to try kissing on the lips? The more Dan thought about the idea, the more he was itching to try it, but not when Phil was still vulnerable. Dan didn't want to ruin anything else by diving straight into something without properly considering the issues that might come with it.

He was tired of screwing things up with Phil.

Phil, however, seemed adamant not to have any time without Dan, to which Dan simply grinned and kissed the top of his head. "Well, you are a bit smelly," he conceded with a wicked smirk, unable to resist teasing Phil when it got such cute reactions out of him. "I'll run you a bath, whenever you decide to get off me."

He pursed his lips when Phil argued against staying in bed, though, shaking his head firmly. "Doctor’s orders, I'm afraid. You've got to give your body a chance to recover. I could make you a stronger potion, but the taste gets even worse the stronger the dose." He winked at Phil, grinning. "Given how you reacted to the last one, I don't think you'd like that very much, hm?"

Except, honestly, Dan kind of loved the idea of spending the next few days in bed with Phil, holding him until he was properly recovered. His work could wait, right? PJ could handle it? ...Maybe?

"Daaaan," Phil whined, absolutely mortified as Dan agreed with him that he stank. It was one thing to be aware of the smell clinging to his skin, and an entirely different one to have his witch pointing it out to him. Mortified as he was, Phil shoved himself out of Dan's arms and onto the other side of Dan's bed - and right, he was in Dan's bed. That was a nice thought. Phil settled down into it with a little smile, and inhaled deeply the scent of Dan's sheets. He really liked being here with Dan, liked that Dan had accepted so much of him and had taken care of him all day.

As his mind cleared more and more though, he started to feel guilty for asking that Dan stick by his side until Phil had recovered as well. He knew Dan knew what he was doing, knew Dan wasn't trying to force him to remain bored and sickly in bed, but... but he also just didn't really want to not be with his witch.

He pouted some more and then sighed.

"I want the stronger potion," he decided primly. "And then I want the bath, and then - and then you have to leave me alone before you get sick too. I'm keeping you from your work. Or, at least, tomorrow I will be."

Phil's demands were all delivered with this prim little pout, and he looked so disgruntled about being sick in the first place that Dan couldn't resist leaning over to give him another kiss, this time on his forehead. He leaned back with a little grin. "Yes, Sir, whatever you say, Sir.” He rolled his eyes a bit, but he was still grinning. He really loved this side to Phil. It was vulnerable in a new way, in a way Dan knew he could deal with and poke fun at, and Phil wouldn't get offended.

Seeing as Phil had rolled off him now, Dan got up to his feet and held his hands out to Phil. "Come on then, let's get you a bath. Lean on me, though, you might be a bit wobbly," he warned, and steadied Phil the instant he tried to get upright, gripping tight onto both of Phil's arms to hold him firmly in place. "Slowly, go slowly. I don't want you falling over on me and cracking your head."

He walked Phil slowly over towards the door and headed for the bathroom, staying by his side and getting an arm around Phil's shoulders so that Phil could lean into his side.

Phil giggled as Dan called him “Sir”, staring up at him with big, wide eyes, and hoping that Dan would understand just how much Phil loved and appreciated him. He'd never been in a vulnerable position like this before, had never been made to need someone as much as he needed Dan, and it was both new, refreshing, and strange. He liked that he had someone to lean on now, though, especially when, now that he was in the human world, it seemed he was much more vulnerable to things than he'd been on his own. He'd never even known getting sick like this was possible, and now he never wanted to feel it again.

He was almost drunk on the strange sensation of walking while the world spun, but Dan helped Phil out of bed and then to the bathroom like it was no bother, like it was nothing new, and it probably wasn't considering Dan's profession, but Phil still appreciated it more than he could say.

"Don't worry about giving it to me, I'm resilient to most things. You can have more potion after you've washed and eaten, and then you're sleeping again." He pursed his lips. "We'll see how you are in the morning about work. I could just take the day off to look after you. It really isn't a chore." He grinned at Phil, depositing him carefully onto the edge of the bath before starting to run the water.

Once they were in the bathroom, Dan was helping Phil to settle down on the toilet lid while he got the bath water going, and Phil pouted as he spoke. He didn't mind taking a bath and eating before Dan would give him a higher dosage of the potion he'd been feeding to Phil, but he did mind the fact that Dan was considering taking a day off for him.

Of course it made his stomach feel all happy and fuzzy, and of course he knew he'd been the one to give Dan the idea in the first place, but that didn't change the fact that he felt bad about it.

"No," he complained. "I know it's not a chore. That's not the point. I can't take you from work because I'm clingy."

Dan pursed his lips, not too surprised when Phil disagreed with him. Still. It kind of hurt a little bit that Phil was saying he should stay away from him, even though it was to protect his work. Dan was an avid procrastinator at the best of times, so he kind of wanted to stay away from work whenever he could. Especially when he had Phil to care for.

"If I don't stay with you, I'll just be worrying about you all day," Dan argued, testing the water temperature with the back of his hands as he continued running the bath. "I can take days off if I need to. That's the good thing about being the boss, and PJ can handle things well enough on his own."

Phil bit his lip as Dan argued as to why he should be allowed to take the day off for Phil if he was still feeling sickly in the morning. It all sounded good, relaxed Phil and took away some of the guilt he felt at causing Dan any inconvenience, but it was still hard to agree with his witch that it would be okay for him to take time off from work. Mostly, Phil didn't want to be the cause, but he'd much rather have Dan with him than away, if he was being honest. He wasn't sure he would have slept as well as he had this afternoon if it hadn't been for Dan playing the part of his pillow.

"Okay. Fine. You can stay home tomorrow, but only if I'm too ill to function on my own." Phil had never even been ill before, so he really had no idea how he was going to feel come tomorrow. He just knew that today, he was unstable and felt like crap, his body covered in far too much sweat, and his head aching like someone was banging pots against the inside of his skull.

Satisfied that he’d gotten his way, Dan nodded once, and then went back to focusing on drawing a bath for Phil. Once the bath was full, Dan got to his feet and turned back to Phil, biting his lip. Part of him didn't want to leave Phil alone, not when he was unsteady on his feet or struggling with fever, but also, Dan thought that he might make Phil a bit uncomfortable if he stayed while he was getting into the bath. But still, he kind of didn't want to leave. He didn't even know for sure if Phil was going to be okay.

But they had the bond. That would be enough, wouldn't it? He'd know if Phil was having trouble, and then he could come back in.

"I'll leave you to wash," Dan mumbled, getting up to his feet. "You'll be alright?" He hovered, still uncertain about leaving Phil alone, but also really not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable.

Finally, the bath was ready, and Phil stood as he felt the turmoil start to feed through the bond. Earlier that morning Phil had wanted a bath as well, but he'd brushed it off with the fear that he couldn't do it alone, and the stray thoughts and worries about how it would be if he took the bath with Dan instead. He was still a little uncomfortable with the idea of Dan seeing him naked so early on, especially after he'd been harassed, and so he was relieved when Dan eventually settled on leaving Phil on his own.

Phil gave him a grateful grin, and nodded his head at his question.

"We have the bond. You'd know the instant I wasn't okay," Phil promised him, just as Dan had promised him that morning.

As soon as Dan had shut the door behind Phil, Phil was stripping out of his sweaty pajamas and climbing into the bath, the warm water feeling like bliss against his sticky skin.

While Phil was in the tub, Dan busied himself in the lounge, settling into the sofa with a good book rather than getting anything productive done, like washing up the dishes from earlier or remaking the bed. He was worried about Phil, yes, but he was also still exceptionally lazy. Besides, he rationed, if Phil needed help then it was far better Dan wasn't doing anything important that he couldn't leave immediately. So it was for the best that he was curled up with a book, really.

He managed to lose himself in the story for the length of time it took Phil in the bath, which was a good thing really because it meant he didn't spend every second worrying about whether or not Phil was coping by himself, or if he needed Dan in there but was just too scared or shy or embarrassed to ask. Dan understood that, really he did. He shuddered at the thought of Phil seeing him naked. But… there wasn't any pressure there. He hoped Phil knew that, that Dan would never take advantage or risk pushing something that neither of them wanted. Still, being naked was a new kind of vulnerable. It would be a hurdle to get over at some point.

They had the bond, though, Dan reminded himself. He'd know the second Phil was in any kind of trouble, because there were no shields up and he could feel the reminder that Phil existed buzzing away in the back of his skull, humming along in a constant reminder that Phil was alive and okay.

It felt like hours later when Phil finally felt warm and clean, body heavy and relaxed in the water, but the only problem was… well.

Dan, Phil whispered through the bond, a bit embarrassed and a lot shy.

Are you okay? came the panicked thought back. Phil grinned, feeling warmth blossom in his stomach.

Yes. I just... need help climbing back out of the bath. Uhm. If that's okay.

Phil's limbs felt too heavy to lift them, as he'd already tried, and while he was still anxious about Dan seeing him naked again, he was also feeling better - about everything. The long soak had left his limbs feeling warm and new, and his skin didn't have the same painful prickling sensation that it had gotten earlier that day after Heric had come onto him. He thought he might be okay, now, if Dan was willing to just help him climb out of the water and slippery tub.

The call for him came when Dan was just finishing the chapter, but he put the book away straight away and jumped up to his feet, heading towards the bathroom without question. He hesitated just outside the door, though, figuring that Phil must still be in the bath if he needed help getting out of it. Maybe that hurdle about the nakedness was coming sooner than Dan had anticipated.

Phil needed him, though, and Dan was determined to get over any awkwardness in order to keep Phil safe. So he hovered outside the door for just long enough to say into the bond, I'm coming in now. I promise I won't look...anywhere you don't want me to. He could feel that Phil was a little bit worried about this, so soothed him with gentle thoughts as he twisted the door handle and entered the room.

Dan made absolutely sure to keep his eyes on Phil's face and no lower as he approached slowly. He'd already determined not to make this awkward at all, and as such, he was going to treat this just like any other time he'd helped Phil through his illness. He'd do anything to make sure Phil was comfortable. "You said you needed help getting out?" Dan asked, proud when his voice didn't crack at all.

He balked just a bit when he realised this would involve him touching Phil's bare skin, but knew enough of where to draw the boundaries to be okay. He approached slowly, keeping his eyes on Phil's and not any lower, and offered his hands out, palm-up. "I won't touch you until you're ready. Just, take your time and then grab onto me, and I'll hold you steady while you step onto the rug, okay? And - wait --" Dan paused for just long enough to fish out a fresh towel, having it ready over his arm. "You can wrap up in this straight away. Alright?"

Dan was always so kind to Phil. It made him wonder why he'd worried so much about Dan having to help him out of the bathtub in the first place when already, before he'd even started to help, he was reassuring Phil and figuring out a way to do this so that it would be the least awkward for both of them, promising not to look anywhere that humankind deemed inappropriate and which made Phil nervous, especially after this morning. He didn't even much like the strange thing between his legs. He had one as a cat, but... not quite like this. It was strange, and uncomfortable, and weird, when he knew what humans often did with it.

The sight of the towel so close at hand helped to reassure Phil, and he took both of Dan's hands carefully in his, eyes locked on the warm brown of his witch’s, and allowed Dan to help pull him to his feet. He groaned at the sensation of his sore, sad muscles pulling, and he knew he wasn't much help, but Dan was strong enough to get him to his feet, gaze never once wavering from Phil's. Still, a blush spread across Phil's features as he realised just how exposed he was, and he did his best not to look away, needing the comfort of Dan's eyes on his.

"I've got you," Dan murmured. "Step over the ledge. I promise I'm not looking."

And he wasn't. He wasn't looking anywhere but at Phil's eyes, his hands secure in Phil's, and his words soft and comforting. Phil could feel him pushing soft, gentle thoughts at him, trying to reassure and comfort as best as he could, and, with shaking limbs, Phil managed to get his first foot out of the tub, and then the other. Instantly, Dan was letting go of his hands, reaching out instead to steady Phil by his shoulders while Phil snatched the towel and wrapped it around his body.

It was long. It started just under his armpits and descended down to his toes, covering every inch of him that mattered, and making him feel relaxed and safe. Once he was sure he had it secured, he looked back up at Dan to find that Dan was staring at something over his shoulder, gaze determined as he swallowed thickly.

Phil could feel his worry like a palpable force, and it made his heart warm.

"Okay. I'm decent," he teased, but even he could hear how quiet and unsure his own voice was.

Getting Phil out of the bathtub didn't take too long, which was good, though Dan was constantly assessing how unsteady he was on his feet to see whether the fever had worsened any. He'd be due another potion soon; in fact, Dan thought he'd just make a huge pot and leave it sitting in the fridge to administer to Phil whenever he needed it. Even though he'd demanded the stronger dose, Dan had no intention of letting him out of bed until he was fully recovered.

With his hands on Phil's shoulder, Dan kept staring over his shoulder at a fixed point on the wall, determined not to look. It wasn't just to make Phil comfortable, either - Dan didn't actually want to look. He'd always found it just… awkward when people were naked, and he avoided the sight of human flesh whenever he could. He'd fast forward TV shows that had too many of those scenes, so it was for his benefit as well as Phil's that he wasn't looking.

Only when Phil reassured him he was decent did Dan risk looking back at him, though he didn't stop holding his shoulders. Phil still looked a bit unsteady and flushed under the towel. Dan smiled at him, trying to reassure because he could still hear the slight tremor in Phil's voice that told him he wasn't fully comfortable yet.

"Okay, so now you don't smell, you need a potion," Dan nodded, "But first--" he wound his arms around Phil's shoulders and tugged him close, pulling him into a gentle hug. With the towel there he felt safe enough, but pulled back after a moment, not wanting to freak Phil out. He took Phil's hand in his and gently led him over to the door. "You can borrow a jumper of mine for now. We'll have to take you clothes shopping soon."

It came as a surprise when Dan pulled Phil in for a brief hug, and he didn't even have a chance to decide if he felt safe enough to hug him back before Dan was pulling away again. It was both a relief and a disappointment to find that Dan's arms were no longer around him, and Phil stared at him longingly but with confusion brewing in his heart.

Dan's fingers were around in his seconds, and he led Phil from the bathroom carefully, with Phil having to reach out and steady himself on the door jamb before Dan thought to wrap his arm around Phil's waist. One look at Dan's face told Phil that he hadn't neglected to think of it, but hadn't wanted to make Phil uncomfortable, and he relaxed completely against Dan, eyes flicking to his lips and the small frown there. He wondered what it would feel like to press his lips to Dan's, wondered if it would be nice, or weird.

He'd seen that kissing could be a prelude to passion, but... but they'd kissed before, and kisses to a person's neck were just as intimate as kissing on the lips. Surely it could be okay? Phil bit his lip. It felt like something that could be good, that could make Phil feel like... feel safe with Dan.

He didn't know what he was thinking. He wished he could ask Dan about it, but the other male already had enough to worry about with Phil being sick and weak as he was.

"I've never felt like this before," he murmured as Dan lead him back to his bedroom and settled Phil down before moving to find Phil a spare change of clothes to get into.

Dan was oblivious to Phil's thoughts for the moment, not noticing that Phil's eyes may have lingered on his lips for a little too long. He was too concerned with getting Phil settled somewhere safe while he found him some clothes, and then he'd feel comfortable enough to properly cuddle him again.

Something tore at his chest at his little murmur from Phil, and he spun away from his drawer for a moment, meeting Phil's sad gaze. He supposed it wasn't any wonder, not really. Still, Dan was curious. "Do familiars have illnesses?" he asked, turning back to his wardrobe and pulling out some loose trousers and a giant, fluffy jumper that Phil could curl up in. "Sadly, it's not uncommon for humans. I mean, it would put me out of a job, but I kind of wish there was a cure for them all. You're going to feel a bit rough for a few days, I'm afraid, but it also gives you an excuse to laze around and demand cuddles, so."

Phil had only half meant that he'd never felt ill before, when he’d said that he’d never felt like this before. The other part of him had meant the strange craving he was having. It was strange and foreign and bordering on possibly too much. Phil didn't know how it would feel if he pressed his lips to Dan's, but he did know he was feeling the urge to do so, and he'd never felt something like this before. Even back home, he'd been uninterested in the kinds of affections the other familiars sometimes shared with each other, so this was entirely new to him.

"Familiars don't have illnesses in their own world," Phil agreed quietly instead, not wanting to bring up what was on his mind right now, and understanding completely how Dan felt about being out of a job. He'd seen the horrible illnesses that could sometimes come upon the human world, and he'd never wanted to have to deal with those things himself, had always wished they didn’t exist. He'd been so happy and proud to know his witch was a healer, that Phil would get to learn how to help people instead of fearing the death of his witch from some horrible illness, and he could feel just how soft Dan’s heart was in the wish that illness was not so common.

It only made Phil want to kiss him more, and he didn't know how to feel about that.

"There are no viruses there. Maybe it's just a way to keep us safe until we find our witch. Some think it's a soulmate, meant to be kind of thing, but I've - I've seen the sad stories, too, and being unable to die in that world is not always such a positive thing," Phil explained softly, a little sadly, staring at Dan's back as he got out some clothes.

Dan considered what Phil had told him about familiars. It was interesting to think about how there was a society so close to their own world where illness didn't exist, full of creatures with wild magic and insanely strong bonds. Maybe they'd started to join with witches to keep everyone safe, so witches could learn stronger magic but the familiars didn't risk their own explosive magic. Illnesses and explosive magic probably didn't mix well, either, come to think of it. Dan recalled the storm clouds in his room from earlier and bit back a shudder.

Dan returned to Phil's side and pressed the clothes into his hands, biting his lip as he was met with another dilemma. He really didn't want to leave Phil alone when he was unsteady on his feet like this. "...How would you feel about changing behind the towel, if I held it up? I just don't want you to fall and hurt yourself," he explained all in a rush, suddenly desperate to make himself clear. "I don't want to look, or anything. I just… don't want you falling and cracking your head open if I'm not here to catch you."

Phil accepted the clothes from Dan quickly as he handed them to Phil, eager to get dressed again, and only paused in standing up when Dan looked at him and bit his lip, seeming unsure how he wanted to go about this. For one moment, Phil felt a thrill of fear that Dan was going to want to stay and watch, but then Dan was speaking up and rushing to explain to Phil how he just wanted to make sure that Phil didn't get hurt if he was left alone for too long.

Phil trusted Dan more than he trusted anyone in the world, so slowly, he nodded his head. "Okay," he agreed quietly, his voice shaking. "Uhm. Can you close your eyes for a second?" he asked, waiting for Dan to do so before he was unwrapping himself and gently pushing the towel into Dan's hands.

Instantly, Dan was lifting the towel in front of his face, spreading it out so he couldn't see Phil even if he wanted too, and Phil stood there, buck naked, just... wishing he could see Dan's eyes for that little bit of needed comfort.

He didn't want Dan to see him naked, no. He didn't like the thought of that at all, but he wanted Dan to see him, to look at him and reassure Phil that Phil wasn't... unwanted because of this. Sighing softly, Phil moved with shaking limbs to get changed, exhausted and sore all over.

Conversationally, he asked, "How do I avoid getting sick again?"

Dan hid behind the towel quickly, feeling his face beginning to flush despite himself. Being so close to a naked Phil was having a weird effect on him - not because he wanted to do anything, but because it showed a kind of trust and intimacy that he'd never had with anyone before. He didn't count his patients, because that was clinical, but caring for Phil was more than that. He actually wanted to make him feel better.

"There's not really much you can do to avoid it," Dan explained ruefully. "I can make something that should build up your resistance a bit, but basically, people can carry illnesses around and you wouldn't even know it." He could feel Phil's tension and upset, and sent calming thoughts through the bond. Just because he couldn't see Phil right then didn't mean Dan wasn't still right there for him. "You'll be alright though," Dan promised him quietly.

Phil pouted as Dan informed him that there was no real way for him to avoid getting sick, other than taking potions that would help him with his immunity to it all. He already knew he was going to jump on that possibility the second Dan was willing to brew those potions up, but he was still disappointed that he was always going have to deal with things like these - things that made him feel miserable and sore all over. The thought of it at all made him crave Dan's touch, but he wasn't changed yet, and he didn't want to make either of them uncomfortable. Dan was there with his soothing thoughts and emotions, though, and that helped until Phil had finished getting changed, letting Dan know in the hopes that he'd get cuddles now.

As soon as Phil said that he was changed, Dan dropped the towel and smiled warmly when he saw Phil standing there in a giant jumper looking very sorry for himself. He was just so cute that Dan couldn't resist reaching out to pull him into another hug, resting his chin on Phil's shoulder and pulling him close. He had the weird urge to be close to Phil again, touching him as much as possible, maybe out of some weird need to keep him safe from whatever illness was making him so miserable.

Phil did get cuddles then. Dan smiled warmly at him before dragging Phil into his arms and resting his chin on Phil's shoulder. Phil swallowed thickly as he wrapped his own arms around Dan's waist, fingers fitting just at the dip in his hip bones. He couldn't stop thinking about Dan's mouth and how much he wanted to kiss him there, though, and being so close to him wasn’t helping. There was a nervous thrum under Phil’s skin that made him feel like he was aching for that kind of intimacy, and it should have been terrifying, but it really wasn’t. The only terror came from Phil not knowing what Dan would think of the whole idea.

"How contagious am I?" he wondering, biting his lip, not wanting Dan to wonder about his silence and ask what he was thinking.

What if he just did it, and if he just kissed Dan, just like that? Could he do that? Or would that be considered rude? And if he was very contagious, wouldn't kissing Dan there threaten to give Dan the illness too?

"You're probably a bit contagious," Dan answered, though he didn't pull back from Phil even an inch, instead opting to speak into his shoulder. He had his arms around Phil, and Phil had his arms around Dan, and Dan really wasn't going to do anything to change that situation until he absolutely had to. "You don't have to worry about me, though. We've been eating the same food and sharing the same space, if I was going to catch it then I would have by now."

He rested his head on Phil's shoulder, pressing a small kiss to the crook of his neck just because it was there and he could. He could still feel that Phil was miserable and sore and probably tired from standing up so much, especially when he hadn't been sick like this before. He must be feeling really miserable. Dan wished he could just take it away, but other than giving Phil potions and lots of physical affection, there was really very little he could do.

Phil didn't understand illnesses. He'd seen a lot of it, knew from watching the human world for the first twenty-odd years of his life that not all of it was deadly and in fact many viruses were incredibly common and normal, but he still didn't understand them. Whatever he had, and he would eventually make Dan explain it to him, Dan apparently felt comfortable enough with that he didn't think he'd get it, and if he did, wouldn't mind it nearly as much as Phil currently did. He supposed, if he was right about this being a common thing, that this was a better thing to have than some of the other horrendous illnesses he'd sometimes seen while watching the world pass by below him.

Time passed so much differently in the human world than it did in his own. Phil was glad for that. He wanted to savor every second he had with Dan.

And part of savouring that was getting to have all the good things. Right now, Phil really wanted to kiss Dan. The urge was almost desperate and needy. He craved that intimacy, to the point where when Dan started to try and move him back out to the sofa so they could sit together and hopefully cuddle some more, he couldn't help staring at Dan's lips instead. His heart was racing in his chest, something warm and hot spreading out from it - nervous. It just felt... like something he needed. Something important. Kisses on each others skin, casual touching, it was all good and well, but Phil wanted more. Just a little more.

Would he even like it?

"Come here," Dan murmured, moving back to take Phil over to the sofa so they could sit. He got stuck on the way, though, because he made the mistake of looking into Phil's eyes, and Phil was staring straight at his lips. Dan swallowed, suddenly reminded of the urge to kiss Phil properly. It would be so easy to lean close and press their mouths together, but he didn't even think Phil knew about that. Phil would surely freak out again, wouldn't he?

But what if Dan brought it up?

Swallowing again, Dan moved a bit closer, unable to help himself. He was so close, his face mere inches away from Phil's by now. Dan drew in a slow, careful breath, and asked a little hoarsely, "Would you - um - how would you feel if I wanted to try something?"

Before he knew it, Dan was standing so close to his face that Phil went a little cross-eyed, huffing out a surprised breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. His fingers were shaking, and Dan was staring at Phil's lips as well.

Phil's eyes flickered back to Dan's as he spoke.

"Good," Phil mumbled back. I'd feel good.

His eyes fluttered shut the way he'd seen happen in the movies, and he waited, unsure what to do with his trembling fingers and the anxiety brewing in his stomach, but certain, certain Dan was going to kiss him the way he wanted.

Dan froze, stock still, for half-a-second. He was a bit surprised by how Phil had gone pliant, how he'd closed his eyes and all but given Dan permission without even knowing what Dan was going to do. But, was that really true? They were close enough, similar enough, that there was a very good chance that Phil was on the same page as Dan, especially with how he'd been acting. He hadn't moved back from Dan, either, even though they were closer than they'd ever been.

Dan could take this opportunity. He'd never done this before, sure, didn't even know if he'd like it, but the urge was right there and Phil seemed agreeable to trying, at least. He could do it. Just a quick peck, just to test the waters. It didn't have to lead to anything more, and then he'd have satisfied his curiosity and could move on with life as normal.

Just once. He could try it just this once.

Nervous, Dan drew in another breath, then carefully took Phil's head between both his hands. He'd never done this before, no, but the movements were mostly instinctual as he closed the last bit of distance between them and pressed his lips to Phil's.

Phil's heart lurched in his chest the second Dan's hands touched his cheeks, cradling him there, soft and warm and everything he'd ever needed in his life. He hadn't realised just how insecure he'd been feeling about everything that had happened that morning until Dan was touching him in a way that Phil had never thought he would. It was one thing for Dan to still want to pet over his skin, reassure Phil that he still loved him despite the other cat having touched Phil in ways he didn't want to be touched, but to have Dan very intimately cradling his face like Phil was still the most precious and important thing to him meant the world.

He hiccupped on a little sad, choked up sound that he couldn't even explain, and just waited, desperate for Dan to kiss him. He wanted to be kissed, wanted to be shown that Dan in no way blamed or hated him for what had happened that morning. He didn't know why this mattered to him, but... but it was like Dan was showing him that Phil was still his.

Their lips touched, and it was like a fire had been lit between the two of them. Phil's heart went crazy, his breathing catching as their lips touched tentatively, and then a little more firmly, until Dan was tilting his head and kind of just... gently taking Phil's bottom lip between his own. It made Phil melt, absolutely melt against Dan, and he never wanted it to stop. He could feel this happy buzz under his skin, and his heart felt like it was soaring, he felt so close to Dan. When Dan pulled away, he nearly protested, chasing Dan's lips only for Dan to meet him halfway, silencing the tiny little whine Phil had let out. He kissed Phil again and again, nuzzling his lips against Phil's softly, sweetly, before trapping Phil's bottom lip between his again and sucking lightly, so lightly, in a motion that Phil mimicked the best he could.

Dan's eyes fell closed naturally, and before he knew it, he was pressing himself so close that he could feel Phil's heart beating through his chest. He'd been aiming for just a peck, but as soon as his mouth met Phil's, it was like he couldn't get enough. He drew back once, but straight away went back in, feeling Phil melt a bit against him. Dan completely lost himself to the moment, his movements slow and sweet and just as gentle as he'd always wished to be.

Their chests touched, and Phil could feel Dan's heart beat. It made him grin, giggle a little against Dan's lips, to feel his heart was racing as well, and he reached up to very lightly press the palms of his hands against Dan's chest. This felt like a moment he didn't want to break, and he found his body leaning into Dan's that little bit more, until Dan's fingers were tracing gentle lines against his cheeks.

It was good. It was better than Phil had anticipated, soft and sweet and good in every way. He thought he could get used to it, could enjoy having it happen more often, but something told him it wasn't something he'd always crave. It was special, something to hold onto on good days, and today was one of those days.

When they finally pulled away, Phil's face was red and his lips curved up in a soft smile. His eyes caught Dan's easily enough, and he nearly melted all over again at the softness contained there.

Phil didn't know what to say, so he dropped his head into the crook of Dan's neck, and just breathed their lightly, mouth still tingling from where Dan had kissed him.

Dan, weirdly, had the urge to laugh. Well, not laugh exactly, more like let out a little giggle that encompassed so much of his happiness and confusion and affection for Phil just then. So he did, giggling just a little, and moved his arms to wrap firmly around Phil's shoulders, holding him against him. Phil's head was resting in the crook of Dan's neck, and Dan laid his cheek on top of Phil's head, resting in his hair. He relished in the feeling of having Phil in his arms.

They'd done it. They'd kissed. And it was… good. Good in a way that Dan hadn't been expecting. He really had been just intending a quick peck, only then Phil had kissed him back and Dan had sort of melted into it. It was easy to be guided by Phil's movements, to hold him and nuzzle into him because it felt right. The answering burst of warmth that spread across Dan's chest told him that he had definitely enjoyed the kiss.

Dan savoured the moment, holding Phil tight against him. He never thought he'd want this, never thought he'd even have the opportunity to try. Now he'd had a go, though, Dan thought he could quite like kissing. At least some of the time, anyway.

More than that, though, Dan was definitely a fan of cuddling. He loved the way Phil was pressed against him just then, close enough that he could feel both their hearts beating. Having Phil standing in his clothes and in his arms was… actually really nice in a way Dan hadn't been expecting.

"Come here," Dan murmured, and this time managed to successfully manoeuvre them both until they were settled on the sofa in the lounge. He'd not wanted to go to the bed, not quite happy with what that could imply - they'd gone far enough, and Dan was absolutely certain he'd never want to go any further.

As soon as they were settled on the sofa, though, Dan had his arm around Phil's shoulder and was firmly tugging until he managed to get Phil pressed against his chest. He held him there, leaning in to press another kiss to the top of Phil's head, and murmured, "Was that okay? I feel like we should talk about that."

If Phil had been a cat, he'd be purring right then and there. He felt so good and like his insides had been lit on fire in the best way, and Dan's arms were around him, his head pressed right to the top of Phil's. Surely nothing in life could be better than this moment right here, where Dan was holding him and comforting him and reassuring him that everything was okay. That Phil was his, and that nothing could ever change that. He sighed, melting against Dan, happy that they could touch so fully like this and be okay, and wasn't even distressed by Dan speaking up just to tell Phil to come with him.

He moved easily, pliant in Dan's arms, climbing onto the sofa and leaning into Dan the moment he reached out for him. By the time they'd gotten settled, Phil was pressed into Dan's chest again, and it felt amazing. His body was sprawled out feline-like with Dan holding him tightly, pressing soft kisses to his head.

"More than okay," Phil agreed in a small rumble, sighing and smiling happily. He'd never had something like that, hadn't known if he would like it, and now he was certain that he did. That he could enjoy something a lot more special than anything else they'd done so far. Glancing up at Dan's worried face, Phil leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, too nervous to try chastely kissing Dan on the lips again. "We can talk about it," he agreed. "Are you okay? Was it okay with you? I... I liked it. A lot. I don't know if I always will, but..." Phil trailed off, pressing his face into Dan's chest again for comfort.

Dan relaxed at the reassurance that Phil was happy, that he had liked to be kissed, and Dan hadn't inadvertently made him uncomfortable. He tightened his grip, cradling Phil against him as Phil pressed his face into his chest, and laughed a bit at Phil's own questions in return. "Oh, no, I definitely liked it," Dan assured him, chest rumbling with warmth and laughter and happiness.

He'd never felt like this before. He never thought he would feel like this. Right now, this was… wonderful, in a homey, contented sort of way.

"I was more worried about you," Dan explained, nudging his face gently against Phil's hair, breathing him in. "After that horrible cat last night, and with how sick you are… I didn't want to take advantage. Honestly, I've been thinking about kissing you all day." Dan's face screwed up a bit at that confession. "I wasn't even sure you knew what it was. But I'm really glad you liked it, I think… I think that's something we can do more often, if not all the time."

It made Phil smile instantly to know how worried Dan had been for him. The best feeling was knowing that Dan would never do something that Phil didn't want, that he'd always look out for him and tread carefully when things were bad. Phil could understand how Dan would have been afraid of kissing Phil after this morning, and he pulled back from his arms to give him a reassuring smile.

"I think... I needed that, after this morning," Phil admitted. "I - I was scared you wouldn't want me, or like me anymore. I don't know, I was just. Scared. Even with all the comfort and the way you gave me what I needed. I couldn't stop thinking about you kissing me either, and I thought... I thought it could be good. It made me feel safe. Like I was yours." Phil hoped he'd explained that right, that Dan would understand and not worry anymore that he'd done something wrong.

He most definitely had not done something wrong, and Phil's lips still felt electric.

"It was special. It made me feel special. It made me feel loved," Phil murmured, and tucked his face into Dan's neck again, cuddling there. He liked the small space. It felt like home, and was somewhere he liked to put his face when he was a cat as well. It was the perfect little nook for Phil. He was bursting with affection for Dan.

"I know from your memories that it can often be a prelude to something more... and I was scared, but you promised I'd never have to do that, so I trusted it would be okay. And it was." Phil pulled back again, restless as he was, to grin at Dan and take his face in his hands. His fingers caressed Dan's cheeks the way Dan had caressed his earlier.

"I love you," he murmured. "It's something special, to have that. I want... I think I want that sometimes."

Having Phil hiding away in the crook of his neck was quickly becoming one of Dan's favourite things. This way, he could wrap himself completely around Phil and surround him in warmth, while getting the joy of having a warm, wriggling body pressed tight to his own. Dan closed his eyes and cradled Phil there, heart bursting with warmth that Phil had been thinking about it too, that he'd wanted to kiss him too. That made everything so much better.

When Phil leaned back, Dan grumbled a bit at losing his comfortable resting place, but then Phil was cupping his face carefully and reassuring Dan that he loved him. Dan smiled widely, dimples appearing, and reached up to wind his arms around Phil's back, drawing him closer.

"I love you too," he murmured, eyes bright and darting all over Phil's face. He'd never imagined he'd have this, that he'd be able to hold someone and love someone like this. "I like the sound of sometimes. Whenever we feel like it. I know what you mean. It felt like… I was yours, too."

Phil was relieved to hear that Dan understood exactly where Phil was coming from and how he felt. He'd been afraid that it was... weird to cling to the want to belong to Dan, was afraid that it would press too close to home for Dan and make him repulsed and awkward again. Phil would never mind when Dan was having a bad day, but the idea of Phil wanting to belong to Dan causing Dan anxiety broke Phil's heart, so this was good. This was great. This was... everything Phil had hoped for and more because Dan was reassuring Phil that they could have that reassurance anytime they felt they needed it.

"You are mine," Phil teased, and leaned in to very gently press his lips to Dan's again. This time, it was nothing more than lips pressing to lips, moving lightly against each other's for a second before Phil was pulling away again and pushing his hand through Dan's hair to card his fingers there. It felt nice, touching Dan like that, and Phil sighed as he moved to sprawl across Dan's chest and rest his head over his heart again.

"As nice as it feels to kiss you," Phil mumbled, "I do still feel like crap. Am I getting my bigger dose today?" he whined, his head still pounding and something sharp and kind of painful pricking at his throat.

Dan snickered a bit when Phil sprawled against him again just after they'd shared quite a special moment in Dan's opinion. Having Phil kiss him, initiating it himself the first time… now that was something special. Especially as it was more an affectionate peck than a deep kiss, the sweetness of that moment made Dan feel treasured and loved in a way that fully respected him.

He wrapped an arm around Phil and chuckled, pressing his face into the top of Phil's hair. "The fussiest patient ever, you are. Yes, I'll make you up that potion as soon as you let me move." He tightened his grip around Phil, though, wanting to keep him in place rather than head off to do something just then, even though Phil must be feeling terrible.

Phil made a pitiful whining noise when Dan teased him again, telling Phil that he was going to have to let Dan go if he wanted Dan to make him that potion. Unwilling to do so, Phil moaned a little about it, ecstatic when Dan didn't attempt to get up, but rather tightened his own hold around Phil to keep him in place. Phil nuzzled at his chest, glad he could do so, and happy for the distraction from his pounding head. He wondered if this was going to get worse, and had the terrible feeling that it would.

Dan swept the sweaty hair off Phil's forehead, feeling for his temperature again. He gave a quiet hum. "Yeah, you've still got a bit of a fever I'm afraid. Still dizzy and hot?" At Phil's miserable nod, Dan drew him in and nuzzled lightly at his head. "Don't worry. I give you full permission to be as needy as you like until this has gone away."

Dan's fingers were nice and relaxing and cold as he swept Phil's fringe from his eyes and instead pressed his hand to his forehead. It took Phil a moment to register that every time Dan did that, he was attempting to check Phil's temperature, checking if he was okay or not. It made Phil grin, and he closed his eyes as Dan touched him.

"You shouldn't give me permission," Phil whined. "I'll just drive you nuts." But Phil was secretly glad that Dan was going to allow him to be as needy as he wanted, and decided that, if Dan wasn't going to try and get up to make Phil's potion, Phil would just lay here and sleep instead.

He didn't actually expect to drift off, but his head did hurt, and no one could really blame him after all.

Dan chuckled. "You already drive me nuts, so really it can't hurt at all." He threaded his fingers soothingly through Phil's hair, savouring the feeling of just having him close again. Having someone pressed against him like this was a new and rather beautiful sensation, and it felt intimate in a warm, safe way - exactly what Dan craved.

He smiled when Phil nuzzled against him, apparently making himself quite comfortable and deciding not to move again. Dan didn't really mind acting as a Phil-pillow though. At least, not for now. The feelings of being trapped were much less when they were lying this way, with Phil in Dan's arms, and for the moment Dan was absolutely living for it. There wasn't much he'd want to trade this for.

Still, it did kind of suck that Phil was feeling so miserable. Dan could feel through the bond that he was truly uncomfortable and unused to the feeling of being sick, and Dan sighed. What kind of healer was he, if he couldn't even take care of his own familiar...

Wait. Dan was a healer. What kind of idiot was he?! There was more to his magic than just potion making, but he'd been so distracted by his new, weird urge to kiss Phil that he'd all but forgotten it. Dan berated himself internally as he stroked through Phil's hair again, gathering up his magic.

"I'm testing something - don't freak out," Dan whispered to Phil, trusting that his familiar would trust him. With no further explanation he opened up the bond, nudging delicately at it, and felt his way carefully into Phil's mind. When Dan was healing patients, he usually had to rely on them telling him where it hurt before he could centre his magic, but with Phil he could just use the bond to see for himself. It allowed him to be much more precise.

The illness seemed focused on Phil's head, where he felt fuzzy and miserable, though his bones and joints were aching as well. While Dan had yet to find a cure for a fever, there were things he could do to ease its passing. Gently, he nudged his magic over the sore bits, adding gentle comfort and draining away painful fluid or tiredness wherever he found it. He was careful not to use too much of his magic, though, having learned his lesson about exhausting himself.

When Dan drew away, he threaded his hands back through Phil's hair, the leftover resonants of his magic tingling under his skin. "How's that?" he asked gently. "Any better?"

Dan's voice was gentle against his ears, pressing against him and nudging Phil awake enough to take in what Dan was saying. Phil's heart skipped a beat for a moment, and he tensed, unsure, but he quickly found himself relaxing and humming against Dan, doing his best to inform him that Phil would trust him and wouldn't freak out.

Phil did trust him, after all, regardless of how terrifying the whole thing was, being half-asleep with a headache and no proper idea of what Dan was attempting to do.

Then the magic touched him, and Phil felt Dan pressing against his mind, asking for access to their bond in a more intimate way than normal, but nowhere near as close as he'd come the last two times he'd had to heal Phil. It was strange not to be pressed nearly soul to soul, but it was also good, and Phil relaxed further as he realised what Dan was trying to do, the cooling touch of his magic intertwining a bit with Phil's own warmer magic, and soothing over aches and pains in Phil's head.

It was wonderful. It was always a wonderful sensation when Dan healed him, touching parts of him that only Dan ever could or would be allowed to, and soothing over them like a cool massage.

Dan's magic was a beautiful thing as well. With their souls not quite touching, Phil could actually see it as more like an observer, from further away. It was blue and cooling, like Phil's eyes, whereas Phil could see his own twining with Dan's in a hot burst of red so dark it was nearly black. It reminded Phil of Dan in that way, and he liked the way the two colors looked when they collided in Phil's mind.

By the time Dan had pulled back, Phil could even feel that his nose was less... heavy feeling. He could breathe easier, and he hadn't even noticed before that there had been sinus pressure on top of everything else.

While Phil didn't feel amazing, he did feel good, and that was more than he could have asked for.

"Much," Phil murmured, letting out a gentle sigh. He was lying more on his back, now, practically between Dan's legs with his head lolling just under his chin. He looked up at Dan's gentle gaze, watched as his fingers threaded through his hair, and smiled softly. "Thank you."

Dan grinned, proud of himself when Phil admitted to feeling better. He was always pleased when his work as a healer paid off, but it meant something more when it was Phil he'd finally managed to do something good for. After all the damage he'd done at the start, it only seemed right that Dan made up for it now.

Looking at Phil now, sprawled between his legs with his head resting comfortably against Dan's neck, it was hard to imagine that Dan had almost rejected Phil back then. His life would seem so… empty without Phil in it now. Dan was getting used to there being two people in his flat.

He was also getting used to having Phil in his arms. He smiled when Phil looked straight up at him, and bent down to press another tiny, chaste kiss to Phil's lips. "No problem. You tell me when you feel bad again, alright?" he pressed another quick kiss to Phil's lips before leaning back, wrapping his arms around him and sighing happily. It felt… good, to be able to kiss Phil whenever he wanted.

Phil was humming in lieu of purring, the feeling bursting through him with a need to come out as Dan pressed two more soft, chaste kisses to his lips. That feeling was an incredible one, the most amazing sensation Phil had ever enjoyed, and he had no idea what to do with himself as Dan kept causing it over and over again. He just wanted to melt into the feeling, melt into Dan and never let go.

Which he technically could, and technically was doing as he lay sprawled out in Dan's lap, nestled between his legs, still feeling ill but nowhere near as ill as before. He wondered if what Dan had done would help his illness heal faster, or if it would just help the symptoms for the time being, but as Dan requested that he tell him when it hurt again, Phil nodded sleepily and peered up at Dan quietly.

Watching the light play across his features, and the way he looked when he was watching Phil, it was... something different, something special. There was a softness to Dan that Phil hadn't gotten to see nearly as much as he would have liked, and he felt special having that attention now.

They spent most of the day resting lazily like that, with Phil securely wrapped in Dan's arms. Dan, at some point, reached out to switch the TV on, making Phil grumble at having to be moved. Dan poked his nose and chuckled, but he'd promised to let Phil be as needy as he had to be for the rest of the day. Not that Dan was exactly complaining when he got to lie back and study Phil all day.

Dan had sent PJ a message earlier explaining that Phil was sick and he had to take the day off, and PJ had immediately replied saying that he'd take care of it. There was an undertone to his text that implied he expected Dan to take this time to iron out any more creases in his relationship with Phil, but as Dan held Phil in his arms, ran his fingers through his hair, and listened to his pleased humming, Dan would say that all creases were now smooth.

One of the most special things about Phil was how warm he was. With him pressed right up against his chest like this, Dan basically had his own personal radiator, and he couldn't be happier. Dan had a tendency to get cold, but having Phil around made that all but impossible.

After many hours curled up together that Dan really didn't want to leave, he stirred at the thought that he really should make that potion up for Phil. It was starting to get dark outside, and much as he loved watching old sitcoms with Phil and explaining which bits were realistic human culture and which bits weren't, he knew Phil would be feeling rough again soon and would want another potion.

So Dan gave a half-hearted push at Phil's shoulder, stretching out as much as he could. "Let me up? I'm going to make your potion. Also, my legs are asleep. You're heavy," he teased with a gentle smile, ruffling Phil's hair in affection.

Phil dozed on and off for the rest of the day. He felt really fuzzy anytime he was awake, but Dan was also always right there and ready to press delicate kisses all over Phil's head should he look like he needed it - and Phil made sure to look like he needed it as often as he could, because he loved the way it felt to have Dan pressing kisses all over his head, his fingers soft and warm against Phil's skin wherever he was touching - Phil's arms, his forehead, occasionally his sides.

It took a long time for Phil to register the fact that he'd slept through the night the previous day, and that Dan had called in sick without Phil's permission or knowledge at some point during one of Phil's naps, but he was too tired at that point to complain, much more interested in cuddling up to Dan and being as needy as he possibly could be.

It wasn't until much later that Dan finally nudged Phil to budge off of him, and he did so with a tired groan as he rolled over and shoved his face into the sofa cushions, waving Dan off as he teased Phil and reassured him that he was just going to leave and make the potion. Too tired to argue, let alone care, Phil just let him go, and sighed as his heavy eyelids slipped shut again and he was left to doze some more.

When he finally woke again, Dan was helping Phil into a sitting position with soft, murmured words of encouragement while he pressed something to Phil's lips, urging him to drink. The smell was pungent and disgusting, making Phil's stomach twist with distaste, to the point where he shook his head and refused it. Dan didn't give up easily, though, and through his muddled thoughts, Phil grew pliant and just did as he was told.

"... hungry? Feel bad again?" Dan was asking, but Phil's mind was too wrecked to really pay any attention, and he pitched forward and into Dan's arms instead of answering, nearly whining at the feeling of cold limbs wrapping back around him. The world was moving a lot, and Phil didn't like it, scrambling to catch hold of Dan's shirt and shove his face back into what he hoped was his neck.

An armful of a sick Phil was a heavy one, as it turned out, as well as an incredibly cute one. Dan chuckled softly, helping him back onto the sofa and staying close enough that Phil's head was buried in his neck. Dan used one hand to stroke softly through his hair, nuzzling into him, while his other wrapped tight around Phil's long body to keep him in place.

Phil was trembling a bit. He looked really miserable, too, and through the bond Dan was getting various senses of discomfort and misery. It tugged at Dan's chest to know Phil was suffering and he couldn't do anymore for it. Still. He could at least hold Phil against him, comfort him with touches and soft words.

Phil hadn't answered Dan if he was hungry with anything more than a whine, so Dan decided he could wait a while longer. Dan pressed a kiss to the top of his head and held him a while longer, murmuring, "Oh, Phil. It won't last forever, I promise." Figuring loud noises might not actually help his headache, though, Dan spoke through their bond instead, nudging gently against it. I've got you. Do you need to eat?

Phil was disgruntled. He'd thought he was feeling better, and now he'd crashed into a misery unlike any other he'd ever known. His throat hurt, his head was pounding, and he couldn't seem to focus on anything. Being asleep was better than being awake, but Dan's arms were around him and he was holding Phil so gently that Phil didn't really want to sleep. He wanted to focus on Dan's cool hands against him.

He startled a bit as Dan suddenly nudged at the bond, seeming to find that an easier way to communicate now than speaking verbally, and Phil made a small noise of contentment. Not hungry, he complained, pressing his nose into Dan's skin and inhaling deeply. Had he found his neck? Phil wasn't sure, but he kissed him anyway.

Shouldn't have stayed home, he complained, but clung tighter to Dan's shirt anyway. For as grumpy as he was, he didn't mind owning up to being needy at this point.

Dan's lips twitched. Despite Phil's apparent misery, he was still pretty good at clinging to Dan and kissing at his neck. The feeling there had a slight tremor running down Dan's spine, but it wasn't overwhelming or especially unpleasant, so Dan dealt with it in favour of keeping Phil curled up like this against him.

Phil's feline nature was never truly hidden. Even now, when he was most definitely a human, he was curling around Dan just like a cat seeking attention. Dan was more than happy to give it to him, shuffling back a bit against the cushions so he could hold Phil more securely against him.

If you're sure, Dan answered back, feeling the familiar thrum of intimacy at speaking like that, in the privacy of their bond. He could feel Phil's neediness as he clung to Dan, and Dan sighed softly, nuzzling against Phil's hair. Hey, I can call off sick whenever I want. Besides, I've got a patient up here to be caring for.

I'm sure, Phil managed. It was always easier to speak through the bond like this, less of a strain especially when he was tired, but today his mind just felt a little frazzled, and it didn't feel quite as easy. He hummed anyway, and nuzzled into Dan with a sleepy little yawn. Just don't want to ruin your day, Phil added gently, pressing his body into Dan's a little more tightly now that the world had stopped seeming to move, and Dan seemed a more solid mass.

He wondered if this was upsetting Dan, if having Phil all over him was maybe too much, but Dan hadn't complained so far, so Phil just let himself curl up against him the same way he would have done had he been in cat form. Part of him wondered if he'd be happier as a cat right then, and considered making the change.

Would it be averse if I changed forms? How would it affect the virus if I was a different host, he wondered. He couldn't just change forms every time he got sick, though. Dan had mentioned being largely immune from exposure over the years. Maybe Phil just needed to wait this one out.

Dan furrowed his brows, making a small noise of interest. He hadn't actually considered that before - that Phil might be able to change forms, and how that would affect the illness. He considered it, now, with his fingers absent-mindedly running through Phil's hair.

I don't honestly know, he answered after a few moment's thinking. Animals have different illnesses to humans. It may well be that it can't follow your biology into cat form - although you being a familiar might change that. Magic tends to confuse biology, or at least, familiar magic does. Dan's tone was warm, and he nosed affectionately at Phil's hair, cradling him in his arms. His thumb had found a sliver of skin showing beneath Phil's giant jumper, and he was rubbing it affectionately.

You should be able to try it without risk, Dan offered up. And I'll be right here to help if something goes wrong. If you'd be more comfortable as a cat, I see no reason why you can't at least try it. He kissed the top of Phil's head. And don't worry about my day. As if I'd complain when I get to have you in my arms.

Phil felt a shiver of warmth run up his spine as Dan's finger found a sliver of skin just under his jumper to play with. He mewled at the soft touch, and cuddled in deeper to Dan's arms. There was nothing he liked more than having Dan hold him like this, and he could feel Dan pressing his nose against his hair, which was also a nice feeling. Everything with Dan was just generally a nice feeling.

Phil knew Dan was right, though. Familiar magic was a strange thing, and it had already proven to have strange effects in the human world than it had had in his own world. It made him a little bit worried about changing forms, but he'd much rather be a cat right then, even if it didn't keep him feeling so miserable. He was too achy in this giant, lanky form, unsure what to do with himself and where to lay to keep himself from aching too much.

His fur would make him feel even more warm than he already did, though, and he wondered if it would be worth it to switch forms.

He smiled as Dan told him how much he liked having Phil in his arms, and nuzzled into him again, breathing out a laugh.

Shush, he teased, but he hoped Dan could feel all the warm feelings him saying that had given Phil.

He contemplated trying to change form again for a short while before finally deciding to just go ahead and go for it, relaxing against Dan in order to focus on his magic instead. It was becoming closer to instinctual to make the change now, and Phil could feel the rush of magic pouring over him, but the pain of change never came. Puzzled, Phil tried again, and then again, and then again, but nothing happened other than a sudden sharp pain in his head that made Phil moan and collapse against Dan.

Dan watched with concerned eyes as Phil evidently attempted to change form again. However, nothing happened, other than Dan feeling the strong bursts of magic that exploded through the bond sharply enough that he winced. Phil felt it too, it seemed, as he collapsed against Dan with a groan and instantly tried to bury his face back in Dan's neck.

Shh, shh, Dan whispered through the bond instantly, instinctively grabbing for Phil and cradling him against his chest. He threaded his fingers through Phil's hair, attempting to soothe the pain he could feel building there. He wished so desperately for Phil to be well, to be calm and no longer hurting. Remembering what had seemed to make Phil melt against him before, Dan ran a hand down to just push under Phil's jumper lightly, and kept his thumb stroking against the skin just above his hip. He didn't stray any further than that, not wanting to make Phil any more uncomfortable.

I've got you, it's alright, shh, Dan continued to murmur steadily into the bond, keeping up a stream of cool comfort from his own end. He could feel that Phil was uncomfortably hot, and too uncomfortable to think very clearly, but Dan could gather that he wasn't able to transform. Dan grimaced a bit, wishing he could make Phil comfortable. As it was, he lay back against the cushions and cradled Phil against his chest, gently running his fingers through Phil's hair.

So I'm guessing it didn't work, he added after a moment's calm silence. It's okay. Let the potion work, that was a strong draught. It's probably still making its way through your system.

Instantly, Dan was shushing him and holding him, rubbing his fingers against the small bit of skin he'd been petting earlier as well, and just generally being incredibly kind and sweet and comforting. Phil's head, though, was spinning, and it was nearly impossible to think straight past Dan's murmured reassurances. Those were enough to keep him sane for now, though, and he sunk into the sensation of Dan holding him and comforting him and showing Phil as much love as he could.

Didn't work, he agreed miserably, wishing more than anything now that he could be a cat snoozing away over Dan's heart, rather than an over-sized grown up with achy limbs and probably grossly sweaty skin. He wondered if he smelled again, and then pushed the thought away. He wanted to pull out of Dan's arms, but he didn't have the strength, and ended up just laying there instead, curled up against his witch and wishing he could get all better now.

He didn't notice it when he drifted off to sleep again, but when he finally did, it was because his body had began to react to the potion Dan had given him, and the pain was receding slowly but surely.

Dan kept holding Phil, soothing him with words and gestures and feelings pressed through their bond as best he could to keep him calm. There was still a lot of pain apparently wracking through Phil's body, and his head was hurting and it made Dan's heart ache. He checked Phil's forehead again to find the fever still there, and Dan sighed. If this went on any longer then he was going to have to consider making a different potion, or trying a different spell.

For now, Phil had seemed to drift into sleep. Dan petted at his hair, pursing his lips as he thought. He'd treated many fevers before, seen stronger ones than this, but never had they been someone as close to him as Phil was. It tugged at Dan's heart to see someone he loved suffering - and there was yet another reminder that Dan really did love Phil.

He paused, letting the emotion fill him, letting himself relax into it rather than running from it. He could learn to be happy that he had someone like Phil in his life - in fact, it was already hard to imagine what he'd been like before Phil. Dan knew he'd been alright on his own, happy even, but he hadn't known a happy like this could exist. It just came with some downsides, too - like suffering when Phil was suffering, like cursing himself for not being able to heal Phil straight away.

With Phil sleeping, Dan allowed himself to worry. He was rational, a healer, so he knew Phil didn't have anything serious, but still… it hurt to have Phil so pained. In fact, Dan's mind helpfully supplied him with everything that could possibly go wrong, with all the reasons Phil might be suffering, hidden symptoms he could have of something far more serious. Dan shook his irrational thoughts away, and held Phil tighter, determined to stay right here with Phil in his arms until Phil was well enough to hold him back again.

(Next)

#ace phan #aro phan #iwritephanthings #phan #phan rp #phanfic #phanfiction #snowbunnylester

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