#alas tis a ficlet

[starry-bi-sky]

sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)

>:) word count 8k+

So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it: @blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol

SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list: - CW Mild Swearing - CW Slight Psychological Horror - ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though) - CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare) - CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied - TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood - TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive) - TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above) - TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)

I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:

I know your addiction's attention, Let's start a show Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Show us something we ain't never seen before

The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.

(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)

(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)

And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in. 

(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.) 

All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"

Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."

Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"

(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)

(What a comfort.) 

"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?

...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.

"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."

He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.

(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)

(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.) 

Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.

Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air. 

(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?) 

He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.

"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."

Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"

Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."

...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears. 

On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again? 

He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."

Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate. 

…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already. 

"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.

"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."

That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."

Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are? 

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:

How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?  

"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"

"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."

(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)

(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)

(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.) 

Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"

Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.

"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.

There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.

"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."

He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.

Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire. 

Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."

Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.

Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."

Bruce looks conflicted.

"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."

...Actively or on purpose, that is.

He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."

Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."

Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."

—-----

Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.

He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.

Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.

He needs-

He needs--

He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.

He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again. 

The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape. 

"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.

"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.

He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.

No one hears him. He's alone.

God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.

Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.

He feels no need to chase after it.

The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.

Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.

He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.

There is none.

But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.

(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)

(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)

-

Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.

It's been three weeks. 

Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.

His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.

He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.

Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.

They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.

Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.

There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.

Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized. 

And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?

So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.

Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.

--

Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay. 

Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.

Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...

He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.

Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about? 

Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.

He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny. 

(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”) 

If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself? 

He’ll never know, he supposes. 

“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back. 

He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it. 

Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better. 

“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.” 

“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”

Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!” 

Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff. 

It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.

It was all just strange.

But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up. 

“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.” 

Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?” 

Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh. 

They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.

Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing. 

In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas. 

What was that?

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?  

But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were. 

From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.

“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused. 

Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning. 

He didn’t think. He did. He did. 

What did he see? 

It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.” 

He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off. 

When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there. 

—------------

Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to. 

There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves. 

He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops. 

Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream. 

Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.  

He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts. 

What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is. 

Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.

He’s not wearing gloves. 

His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe. 

Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up. 

Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies? 

Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.

(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.) 

He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face. 

It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.

(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.) 

Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”

Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way. 

But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.” 

Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.” 

“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it. 

They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time. 

“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.” 

“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse. 

“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny. 

Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight? 

Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.” 

Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.

“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.

Oh. 

Yeah.

That’s right. His parents. 

He probably had nightmares about that. 

Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.  

“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.” 

Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.” 

Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.” 

Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.” 

He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.” 

(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.) 

(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.) 

(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.) 

—-------

Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast. 

(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?) 

(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.) 

But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor. 

If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.

Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room. 

“Yes, Danny?” 

He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks. 

Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.” 

Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”

He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.

That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind. 

Everyone goes back to eating.

(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)

(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)

(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)

(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)

(The window begins to crack.)

“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes. 

Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.

And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned. 

“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go. 

Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again. 

“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.” 

Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?” 

“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.

Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious. 

Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit. 

“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs. 

Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him. 

In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”

“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?” 

“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.” 

He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.” 

Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library. 

His appetite’s been ruined. 

—---------

Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded. 

His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare. 

His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently. 

(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?) 

He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.

But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him. 

(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t. 

His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out. 

“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”

He did not tell them anything.) 

Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious. 

Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.

It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare. 

Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle. 

The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder. 

“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.” 

“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.” 

Bruce’s eyes fly up.

There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do. 

A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood. 

The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly. 

Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed. 

When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows. 

The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce. 

He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.

Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.  

When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.  

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dp x dc au #dpxdc au #dpdc #dpdc crossover #Danny is Jason Todd au #i didn't think of anything beyond the ending point howEVER #this post is totally open for additions if anyone is interested #i love seeing add-ons to posts #anyways EVIL LAUGHTER #THIS IS THE PART I WANTED TO GET TO. PYSCHOLOGICAL HORROR #ANGST #if this was a fic i would have ramped up the horror more #alas tis a ficlet #starry terrorizes the waynes with the fact that jason is going to die in his world and there's nothing they can do about it. #he doesnt know he's going to die. but they do :) #fun fact jazz was going to be here and she was going to be the one to see the ghost #if this was a fic that ending scene would've occurred after more build up of dick and bruce and co seeing the figure following danny around #in the original variant au the waynes dont meet danny until he's already died and is a ghost #and i was gonna have one more jason appearance but couldnt fit one in #merry belated christmas folks #have some angst after two consecutive clone^2 posts of fluff #i tried to picture what danny's body would have looked like before being ghosted and #extremely burned was the first thing that came to mind. his suit is also almost entirely melted. something to kinda resemble his ghost half #but also i couldn't stomach making him completely unrecognizable because he WOULD have been #genuinely think danny's body would have been like. half melted at least

[adrift-in-thyme]

Here it is! The fairy Time fic I promised. Be warned, it is extremely fluffy

-------------------------------------------

It is a quiet night.

Time is always grateful for those. They are in short supply on this journey, too often interrupted by the rise of the cursed Blood Moon or an outburst of beasts from under the cover of foliage. But tonight, the moon is tranquil and golden and the surrounding bushes and trees conceal nothing except chattering critters.

The heroes have settled around the fire, and are trading lazy quips. The occasional tale sneaks in between them, which quickly becomes a competition to see who has endured the more exciting experience. 

Time doesn’t normally make a habit of joining in. He is content to remain just outside the conversation, close enough to comment if necessary, but far enough to merely listen. Such peace and joy are precious things – as precious as every moment spent by Malon’s side – and they surround him like a warm blanket.  

Tonight, however, that wonderful feeling is making it rather difficult to remain awake. 

It doesn’t help that the healing spells he had cast in the aftermath of today’s battle have left him feeling drained. With the traveler down and their potions used up, he had had little choice but to act. And he doesn’t regret it in the least. But that doesn’t negate the fact that healing magic has never been his strong suit.

Every fae possesses the power, yet not all have the strength to employ it in such a measure as he had today. Healing is a delicate act. It requires attentiveness and care, dedication and focus. He had poured all of that and more into his spells, used his heart and mind, his soul to heal his brothers’ wounds and save their lives. And in the moments afterward…had collapsed. 

He is fortunate his brothers had been there to catch him. Too many times before he learned his limit, this weakness had spelled his doom. He has scars on his wings to prove it.

Still, he is practically useless, even now after the impromptu nap. He feels dried up and hollowed out, limbs heavy with the same exhaustion that drags his eyelids downward. And though he would normally protest at least a little at the prospect of staying in his current position, he cannot dredge up the will to do so.

So, here he remains, curled up on his side on Wind’s lap, Warriors’ scarf a silken cocoon about his body, one giant wing draped over him like a comforter. 

He shifts with a small sigh. The sailor giggles, ever amazed at his fairy form, and reaches out to run a finger over Time’s wings. He is gentle, careful in every movement. Still, Time is a bit surprised at the lack of the fear that usually bubbles up whenever anyone touches him in this form.

He has had too many injuries, too many close calls with death or worse. They have made him wary. But he trusts the sailor. Wind is nothing if not kind. 

He is safe here. 

The knowledge hits him harder than any monster blow.

You are safe here.

Something breathtakingly warm wells up in him at that thought, similar to the feeling he has been basking in since he awakened, yet unique all the same.

“Alright, old man?” A soft voice asks, now, and Time pries open the eye he hadn’t even registered closing. Warriors grins down at him. 

Time’s soft hum quickly dissolves into a blissful sigh as the captain tucks him more securely into his bed of softness. He allows his eye to slide shut again, his body to relax more fully. He allows the sensations and sounds to envelop him, surround him in warmth and comfort. To pull him down into blessed darkness once more.

“He’s adorable like this,” Wind says, his noisy whisper breaking through the haze. Another giddy giggle bursts forth from him like gurgling water. 

“He is, isn’t he?” It’s Twilight now. Time can imagine the dirt-eating grin on his face, the same one that spreads across Malon’s when she beats him in yet another race around the pasture. “Though I doubt he wants us calling him that.”

There’s a pause, then in a disapproving whisper-yell, “and he definitely doesn’t want that. Put that slate of yours away, champion!”

There is the distinct sound of a camera snapping a photograph. Laughter ripples through the group like the wind through the trees. 

“When he kills you all, don’t come running to me,” Twilight says, though there’s laughter in his voice too.

Traitors, Time thinks, lazily, all of them.

“Oh, come on, Twi. Look at him! He wouldn’t hurt us! Not like this anyway.”

“Then, you haven’t gotten a good look at his wings,” Legend pipes up, drily. “They’ve got eyes on them, you know.”

“Ooh.” Time can feel Wind’s breath ghosting him as the boy leans down to get a closer look. “I wonder if they make up for the one he lost. I’ll bet he can see us through ‘em!”

If Time wasn’t quite so tired (or finding this quite so exasperatingly comical) he would correct that assumption. But then again, what’s the harm in allowing a little rumor like that to spread and strike some healthy fear into the hearts of his would-be blackmailers? 

“Come on guys.” Warriors’ voice rises above the hushed clamor of the others, all bickering about Time’s ability, or lack thereof to watch them through his wings. “He’s exhausted. Let him sleep.”

The heroes try to quiet, though their efforts are about as successful as Time suspected they would be. Whispers and barely stifled laughter continue to weave their way gallantly through the night.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

…though a few more telltale clicks of Wild’s slate cement his decision to play a prank on him as soon as he regains his strength. 

“He’s so small,” someone murmurs, now as the hubbub begins to subside, sleepiness getting the best of even the most energetic among them. Sky, Time’s mind slowly supplies, putting a face to the voice that wafts gently around him. “To think, he healed us all while in that form…”

“Something you get to know very quickly about Sprite is that size doesn’t bother him,” Warriors replies, fondness in his tone. “Even as a kid, he could take out groups of monsters much larger than what we faced today.”

Sky chuckles, soft and almost sad. Time is too far gone to decipher why. 

But he can’t deny the sudden rush of warmth when the chosen hero whispers, “thank you…little one.” And when, in the next moment, Sky ghosts a finger over the very tip of his wings, Time is unafraid beneath his touch. 

He drifts off not long afterward to the sound of tired murmurs, the crackling of the campfire, and a soft song played upon an ocarina, the notes drifting up toward the moon.

#me: this au has so much potential for angst and whump #also me: time is now conveniently snuggle-sized and I must take advantage of that #this poor man #i'm either smothering him with snuggles #or torturing him in the most painful and traumatizing ways #there is no in between #alas tis the cost of being my blorbo #trin writes #fairy time au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #ficlet #fluff #so much fluff #lu time #lu chain #lu twi #lu twilight #lu wind #lu sky #also this is set later than my other two fics #by this point everyone's had a chance to find out time's secret #though some have known for longer than others

[iridescentpull]

For the prompts: yellow 1 😊

《 here it is :)) took a while lmao 》

" I can't believe I just did that. "

Spiderman!Anthony AU / TW for violence

《 ficlet under cut ! 》

Anthony knew it was a bad idea for Ian to follow him. He should've told him no when his partner suggested the idea. But alas, he allowed it to happen.

And here he was, ten mind-controlled scientists with guns pointing at him while Ian sat in a chair, tied up and knife pressed against his neck. 

"Let him go, Doc." Anthony said, eyes not leaving the figure standing beside Ian. He tried to portray through his body that everything would be fine, but he could tell Ian was one second away from panicking. 

Doc Ock stayed still, smirk on his face. "You know the deal, Spider-Man." He said, knife running across Ian's cheek. His partner's blue eyes stared at the knife, trying his best not to make a sound. "Your life, for him." 

Anthony's eyes quickly scanned the room they were in, trying to find some way out. They were on the top floor of Doc Ock's lab, which meant that the drop to the street was over five hundred feet. His eyes glanced to the ceiling, where water sprinklers were placed sporadically. He noticed a cable loose on the floor from where they fought earlier. If he managed to activate the sprinklers, the electricity would conduct with the water and electrocute the ten scientists surrounding him- including Doc Ock. 

All he needed was to separate Doc Ock from Ian and he could work on his plan. 

"Fine." Spat out Anthony, raising his arms. He could see Ian's eyes widen, but he stayed quiet. Anthony glared at Doc Ock. "My life for him- let him go. Now."

Doc Ock's eyes grimaced, but dropped the knife. He moved his tentacles to untie Ian, who stayed frozen in his seat. Once he was untied, he stayed put- waiting for how this would play out. 

The doctor moved to stand in front of Anthony, grinning like a mad man. "So you choose to sacrifice your puny life over some useless person?" He asked, circling him. Anthony heard all of the gun's safety go off. Any moment now they would shoot. He just needed Doc Ock a bit more closer to the sprinklers. "You could join me; with your strength and my intelligence, we could rule the world." 

Anthony acted like he was thinking about it, before shrugging. "Sure, why not?" He lied, hand extending in front of him. "Wanna shake on it, good sir?" 

Doc Ock seemed pleasantly surprised, before standing in front of Anthony. Both men didn't notice Ian slowly grab a loose metal tube from the floor and slowly approach Doc Ock from behind. 

Doc Ock grinned. "Welcome to the partnership, Spider-Man." He said, shaking Anthony's hand with one of his tentacles. "We'll be doing amazing things."

Anthony tilted his head, as if he was thinking. "Hmmm, I changed my mind, sorry." He said, before quickly shooting a web and sticking it on the water tubes of the sprinklers, before pulling hard. 

Immediately, water sprinkled everyone. During those brief seconds everyone seemed to be processing what happened, Anthony webbed the cable from the floor and pulled it to the water. Just when the cable touched the puddle of water, electricity rang through it and electrocuted ten scientists. 

Doc Ock pulled, growling. "You bastard!" He screamed, tentacles pulling him up. "You'll pay!" He yelled, one of his tentacles rushing towards him to grab him, Anthony closed his eyes and prepared for the hit. 

Then a bang rang out before the sound of someone hitting the floor spooked Anthony. Said male opened his eyes just to see Ian holding a metal tube, breathing heavily as he stood with a leg on top of Doc Ock's unconscious body. 

"Ian?!" The taller said, surprised. 

Ian stared at the body in surprise. "I can't believe I just did that." He said, shaking. 

Anthony immediately moved to web the unconscious Doc Ock and scientists to the ground, while pulling the electric cable far from the water. Once he made sure all danger was safely secured, he turned to Ian, removing his mask.

"Dude, holy fuck." He said, holding onto Ian's shoulders. "How the fuck did you know where to hit him?"

Ian gaped, looking between the unconscious body and Anthony's eyes. "I- I saw the control panel in the back of his neck, and just hit him." A slow grin appeared on his face. "Holy shit I'm so cool." 

Anthony's head perked up at the sound of police sirens. He grabbed onto Ian's hand and pulled him to the broken window. "Okay okay, we gotta go!" He said, pulling Ian onto him and making sure he held him correctly. 

The brunet kept looking at Doc Ock's body. "I still can't believe I did that-"

"We'll talk about that later!" Anthony exclaimed, before jumping out the window and webbing them away just as the police broke into the lab. 

If the police heard the screams of a young adult getting farther- that's part of their imagination.

#i was stuck on what to write but then i decided to go wild lmao #this was fun :)) maybe i'll upload this on ao3 #ianthony #ianthony rpf #smosh #smosh rpf #ian hecox #anthony padilla #spiderman!anthony au

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, January 4th

DAWN: Um, guys, hello, puberty? Sorta figured out the whole no Santa thing. ANYA: That's a myth. DAWN: Yeah. ANYA: No, I mean, it's a myth that it's a myth. There is a Santa Claus. Everyone looks surprised. XANDER: The advantage of having a thousand-year-old girlfriend. (turns to Anya) Inside scoop.

~~The Body~~

The Sunnydale Herald is looking for at least one new editor. Contributing to the Herald is a great way to get your Buffy on! Find out more here.

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Too Quiet by badly_knitted (Buffy, PG)

Buffy's Proud Mother by Apache Firecat (Joyce, Spike/Buffy, PG-13/T)

Love Me Like You Do by kerk-hiraeth (Tara/Faith, NC-17)

Earth Goddess by madimpossibledreamer (Buffy/Yakuza AU, Andrew, Xander, Teen)

Mother's Boy by Nope (Connor/Darla, M)

Minty Goodness by Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89 (Angel/Spike, E)

Ficlet for the prompt "Adopting a pet together" by explosionshark (Buffy/Faith, not rated - worksafe)

A ficlet for the prompt "Brushing their teeth together" by explosionshark (Buffy/Faith, not rated - worksafe)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Water, put out this burning world, Ch. 3 by TuoshNell (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Mr. & Mrs. Normal, Ch. 2 by TuoshNell (Buffy/Spike, R)

The Time We Had, Ch. 28 by Dusty (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Learning To Be Love's Bitch, Ch. 25 by Desicat (Buffy/Spike, R)

A Road So Rough, Ch. 8 by cawthraven (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Hold My Hand Even Though I’m a Sinner! Ch. 15 by CheekyKitten (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Piercings, Ch. 5 by MelG_2005 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Odd Couple, Ch. 4 by honeygirl51885 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Break Even, Ch. 4 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, PG)

The 12 Days of Christmas, Ch. 4 by RavenLove12, Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Written in the Dust, Ch. 2 by Indi_Shaw (Buffy/Spike, R)

In The Dark With You, Ch. 1-3 by Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, R)

Spiderwebs, Ch. 1 by Willow25 (Buffy/Spike, R)

Psych-Out Wolves 1 ½: The Almost Sequel, Ch. 6 by calikocat (Psych crossover, Xander, Angel Investigations, FR18)

The Time We Had, Ch. 29 by Dusty (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

take me home, Ch. 6 by HappyWhenItRains (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

I Ragazzi Sono Tornati in Città (the boys are back in town), Ch. 1-2 (COMPLETE!) by Dynamite (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Other Side of the Door, Ch. 2 by myrabeth (Buffy/Spike, M)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Digital painting: Buffy by finchmarie (worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

[Wow, the romantic plot lines in s2 are a wild ride] by aboonebeckerboone

The Body by alas-poor-cesario

The sixth episode of each season by fallingtowers

ReWatch: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - S5, E12 - 13 (Checkpoint and Blood Ties) by kimannebb

ReWatch: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - S5, E14 - 15 (Crush and I Was Made to Love You) by kimannebb

ReWatch: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - S5, E16 - 17 (The Body and Forever) by kimannebb

ReWatch: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - S5, E 18 - 19 (Intervention and Tough Love) by kimannebb

Buffy 5x17, Forever by oonerspisms

The Body by nowmostlyabuffyblog

Does anyone else think the music at the end of “when she was bad” feels out of place? by thendanisays

What are your top 5 "normal" episodes? by meh316

5.06 The Cautionary Tale of Numero Cinco | Angel on Top

Pop Culture Role Call: DiCaprioscity - Angel S03E21 - Benediction

[Recs & In Search Of]

TheaxSleepCat is looking for a specific Spuffy Fic (AU where Buffy meets Spike in a hospital)

[Fandom Discussions]

all the random people at buffys 19th birthday party by all-seeing-ifer

Favorite OTPs ft. Buffy/Angel and Willow/Tara; favorite female characters ft. Buffy and Willow by cuddlyreader

[For me Willow's addiction storyline made perfect sense] by girl4music

Faith Lehane is the MVP! by juanabaloo

Soulless!Spike wanting to try to align himself with Buffy’s code of ethics... was inherently retraumatizing to Buffy by over-the-misty-mountains

I wonder if part of Dawn's issues with being left behind... by over-the-misty-mountains

I would really like to see a very specific kind of comic reboot by takaraphoenix

Thoughts on BtVS (OP doesn't like Angel and Riley) by the-moons-kind-regards

Re: wish Bangel had had more happy times in S2 before Innocence by we-pay-for-everything

the things i love and wish were developed more in the btvs boys (ft. especially Xander, Riley, Giles, Angel) by clockwards

Tara headcanons by clockwards

I'm glad that neither Bangel nor Spuffy wound up being the "endgame" ship by deadthingu

Headcanon re: how Dawn grieves Spike: so much good punk/emo music came out in 2004 by disco-tea

buffy should have become an information service professional by nowmostlyabuffyblog

Re: do you hate angel? by scaryscarier

btvs fan fiction writing prompts by knives

What Are Your Overall Thoughts On Giles? hosted by Antwuan89

What bands would the Scoobies have been into? by LcSc0t

Anyone else love Dawn's character in season 7? by jdpm1991

Buffy’s Enneagram + MBTI by 7heChos3n0ne

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#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series

[13thdoodle]

RET Time : Spider Lilies

I don't think I ever posted this here but back in April I tried to wrote a short ficlet based of an idea @bibliophilea came up with for the RET Time AU because its really neat n i end up writing this but never upload em for some reason askdjaskd

--------------------------------oo00oo---------------------------------

It doesn’t matter how hard everyone fought them, the trio will always win. And Amity Park will always fall. Such is fate.

It’s the intricate choreographed dance between the three of them. Such grandiose gestures, so extravagant, and yet they moved so flawlessly among themselves. Not one misstep or wrong timing. They knew each other's moves by heart and went along with the flow. Even as they make up the steps, the others would surely follow.

A beautiful three-way tango only those with strong connections could do. The 'power of friendship and love' sounded like a child’s play, yet it was the strength of their bond that let them usurp the throne from Pariah and threw both realms into chaos.

What a stunning performance it was. At the cost of the timeline's fate. But what can one do? Such is life.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and this one was no exception. Their existences meant a doomed timeline. Even on the off chance that they were defeated, the world was already ruined. Humanity will move on, but the three will not. The world will have to live with that, for better or worse.

That is, unless you have something to say about it.

The Observants had been making preparation behind the curtains. Something that could contain the patrons. It would take their corruption away, but not all. Being tangled and tied up for so long would leave marks on the three of them, even when all the strings were cut off. They would be lost, with no one to guide them, and the guilt would consume them and their future would be bleak.

A rehabilitation for the young ones, you suggested to the Observants. Until they are cured from their corruption. A ‘necessary’ step to prevent the three from enacting revenge towards the ones who stripped them of their powers. The council were inclined to agree, as they did not want to handle the three who were once their monarchs. You will take them under your wings. Offer them your guidance in place of the previous ones. You will extend your hand to the children standing in front of you. Not with malice, but with patience. You know they do not have other choices, but you offer nonetheless.

They will hesitate. But they will take your hand

And so, they will don a new name, to fit their new roles.

Past

Present

Future

But to you, they will be known as

Your Students.

Your Wards.

Your Children.

Your Family.

#kc writes #dp ret time #reverse evil trio #dp reverse evil trio au #danny phantom #kc rambles #i think i picked up the title way before the whole kitsune au were revived again n i just think it's fitting #because the 'rehabilitation' thing required Clockwork taking the kids away from their timeline n adopt them #basically to everyone else in amity park or mortal world they are technically dead #so ye #but now they got time dad and time power which is very nice

[magioftheseas]

Hanako Haulloween Ficlets #1

For @hananenetanabata

Day 1: Ghost Hotel

I literally just started doing these right now because apparently I like to live life on the edge. If I catch up and do the last one on time, I would like a cookie.

Anyway, decided to focus them all on Nene for a vauge through-line. Please read my long-fic because this ficlet somewhat relates to it. But only somewhat. Still, I need motivation to get back to it one of these days...

The guest wakes up uneasily, rubbing at her eyes groggily. Slipping out of bed and getting dressed, she has another bleary day ahead of her. She does some stretches, ties up her hair, and heads out.

A long corridor with a plush carpet greets her. There are some rabbit-like creatures bouncing by as she walks down, down, down.

It’s dark. She thinks it’s still storming, but she’s almost too tired to be sure. The further she descends, the less certain she becomes. It isn’t until she’s about to doze off once more that—

“Ah, Yashiro-san. Good evening.”

Nene snapped up immediately. She was standing in the dining area now. The one who greeted her was the other guest. The table has already been set up with tea and sweets. Nene’s gaze runs down the tower of macarons longingly before drifting back to the other guest.

The other guest who smiles every bit as elegantly and beckons her with a gloved hand. Nene goes to her immediately.

“Here a little early, aren’t you,” the other guest murmurs kindly. She pours another cup of tea, setting it before Nene. “Well, that’s fine. I do get lonely sometimes.”

“I... Thank you.” Sheepishly, Nene takes a sip from the cup with one hand and reaches for a macaron with the other. “What do you mean early?”

“Simply put that it’s not yet time for you to be here,” the other guest says with a wave of her hand. Even her gaze is beautiful in its shimmering gold shade. “I’m surprised the manager allowed this meeting.”

“The mana...” Nene blinks slowly. “Hanako-kun...?”

“You don’t even know what’s going on, do you?” The other guest looks at her beautifully but also...pityingly. “Are you perhaps still dreaming?”

“I’m not dreaming...” Nene nibbles on a macaron. The sweetness is almost too much to bear which is why she shoves it greedily into her mouth. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“Do you remember my name, Yashiro-san?” the other guest asks.

“Of course I do, it’s...”

Her mind blanks.

Nene blinks once. She blinks twice.

The teacup in her hand suddenly weighs a ton. The macaron she swallowed now feels like lead. It’s as if...she is drowning.

“I-It... It’s... Y-Your name is... I-Is...”

She’s sinking. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Until.

The other guest gently takes her hands. Helps her set the teacup aside. Squeezes her trembling fingers.

“Nanamine Sakura.” The other guest smiles serenely. “It’s very nice to meet you, Yashiro-san.”

“O-Oh!” Nene exhaled a sigh of relief. “It’s nice to meet you too, Nanamine-san!”

“I do love meeting with you, truly,” Nanamine goes on. “But I’m afraid it is time for you to go. The manager is waiting. As is someone else.”

“H-Huh?”

“Someone else,” Nanamine repeats. “Someone else who waited for you as I wait for someone else.”

“What do you mean?” Nene asks. “Nanamine-san, you... You...”

Nanamine was no longer smiling.

“You look so lonely.”

Alas, she couldn’t get up to comfort the other guest. It was as if her very being was restricted to the chair.

“Nanamine-san? I-I can’t...”

Nanamine does get up. She places her gentle, doll-like hands on Nene’s shoulders. Nanamine wears such an apologetic frown.

And then, she shoves Nene back. Her chair goes through the floor with a splash.

#hanakohaulloween #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #nene yashiro #sakura nanamine #Magi fics #ghost hotel au

[thisbluespirit]

Fic Writer Tag Game

I was tagged to do this by @allegoriesinmediasres but it had already gone round Dreamwidth this last week, so I did it there.  I’ll try and c+p it over here, too!

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 620 (but I've been writing a lot of short things since around 2006-7, and there might even still be a couple of the 1994-98 fic from the newsgroups up). 2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,476,147 (but this does include about 300,000 words of origfic for RaTs and rainbowfic that are collected into three works, so it doesn't affect the works no too much, but it does affect the wordcount.) 3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Too many to list here!  A lot.  *nods* 4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? People, it's still Miss Marple.  Maybe one day it won't be Miss Marple, but today is not that day. (ETA: whenever i do my top AO3 fic on these memes, it’s disproportionately Miss Marple.  I am bemused.) Miss Marple: The Spirit of St Mary Mead So We Meet at Last Not Miss Marple: it's the rain that will strengthen your soul (SW Prequels) Five Times the Doctor Got in the Way of Captain Janeway (and One Time They Got Along Just Fine) (DW/ST) By the Book (Origfic) (Oh, wow, By the Book keeps moving up.  It must get recced sometimes, somewhere, mustn't it?  0_o ♥) 5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes.  Fanfic is a lot my way of being social, which is why I don't get along with the new push-button web much.  Like, kudos is fine, ok, but I just wanted to talk to people, and via fic always seems to be one of the nicest ways to do it. 6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oh, I don't know. I like being bleak sometimes when I feel like it.  It might be the EatD one with the two Generals, but honestly there were a few in my mid-illness old bleak telly watching years, and the Level 7 one or the one from Children of the Damned might be even more so?  Or some S&S stuff, too?  I mean, I wrote S&S plane crash fic and weird drabbles.  (I blame my fandoms!  It's not my fault!  *innocent*) Also I keep doing Clara splinter fic, so I keep killing Clara and it's always sadder than I expect when I get there.  You'd think I'd learn by now, or just not kill this splinter, but, nooo, hey, how about MORE Clara splinter death, self?  /o\ Oh, no, wait: it's probably Spooks!  Spooks is also bleak and how about my tiny ficlet of death, Litany of the Fallen? Oh, actually, if I listen to people who aren't me, it's that B7 Avon/Servalan one, which I was always a bit: BUT I WROTE ONE WHERE THEY WON about it and everyone else was all THIS IS THE WORST in the comments.  Sorry? The Quality of Mercy (Is Most Definitely Strained)  (I still think the ending of Compendium is more angsty!  It has double death!) (Ok, it's me.  I like being bleak and angsty when I'm doing it.  I'm less sure when someone else is doing it at me, of course. ;-p) 7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I honestly don't know.  I'm usually kind of gen and happy and sometimes even humorous, and keep canon's tone, and DW is fairly light most of the time. I tried searching on Happy, but I have never tagged anything as happy.  But probably it is an AAL! thing, because AAL! is happiness in b&w TV form basically.  Maybe of Of Human Bondage (or Five Times Adam and His Friends Found Themselves All Tied Up)?  But I like all the AAL! ones I wrote for Yuletide, because they were the ones where I tried to be closest to an episode, and that makes them the most fun to re-read. 8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I have a crossover in my top 5, so yes.  I'm a DW fan; crossovers are just far too obvious a temptation when you've got a TARDIS.  What DW fic writer hasn't managed at least one once somewhere?  And I might have, um, written a lot of them.  (AO3 says 126). I did once, way back in newsnet times, when we were having a debate over what you could and couldn't cross DW over with (and I was on Team You Can Cross It With Anything You Cowards), write a DW/Rainbow drabble.  But I don't think I put that on AO3.  I think it might be on Teaspoon.   In AO3 works, I think by far the silliest is the Baldrick/Steed one, which AstroGirl said I couldn't write.  (It was an Unconventional Courtship summary, not that they randomly dared me to write Baldrick/Steed.  I mean, some of my flist totally would have done if they'd thought of it, but not in this case.) 9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not really.  I've had some weird comments, but the nearest I've come to hate was one of the comments that time I tried to write Swan Queen fic and it wasn't happy enough for people.  (I wrote a happy one after, but the ifrst one was set quite early, Regina was still kind of evil!) 10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Alas, no.  Although, ish, if we count my experimental elemental shipping phase, which included The Cornfield (Silver/Steel/(Sapphire)), which is the only time anyone called any of my fic sexy.  I would totally have that comment made into a medal or something.   11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Other than the random scraping things that have gone round over the years, no. 12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes!  Several people have been kind enough to do this, usually into Russian, and usually (but not always!) Miss Marple. 13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, and no - in adwc days we all co-authored round robins, which were a blast and highly frustrating.  I think it'd be fun, but barring the odd bit of drabble tennis with various flisters back in the day, it's not really something that's worked out.  (I'm thinking, I could have all the ideas, they could do all the writing, I could criticise?? XD) 14) What’s your all time favorite ship? My Relationships count is very misleading here, because I think it actually is (including in terms of things written for it), Sapphire/Silver/Steel, but it's a weird thing, so sometimes I tag it platonically, and sometimes I don't necessarily tag it at all for that reason, and also I think it puts people off unnecessarily.  (But it's a Lie when I don't tag it.  All my Sapphire & Silver & Steel is inherently OT3 even if no one else can see it.) 15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? None.  I have unposted WIPs, but I do hope to finish those, and the only posted WIP is a very old one only on Teaspoon that was begun before I was ill and I can't even really say at this point that I would want to finish it. 16) What are your writing strengths? Character/dialogue, I think?  I am actually not that bad at plot, but currently I lack the stamina for long things. I like to think I can be quite funny when I'm in the mood. 17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, action.  Argh.  Yes, let's just talk some more, okay? 18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I was going to say I would never, but actually I did!  I wrote Y Gwyll | Hinterland fic, and it wouldn't be right not to have some Welsh in that.  However, while I may be a 1/4 Welsh and know some Welsh words, I don't actually speak it, so I had to turn to Llywela who was very kind and translated the sentences I needed.  (I added the English translation in the footnote.)  This was the fic, but basically language is important in canon (ironically maybe even more so in the Eng-lang version I watched than the original Welsh), and so it was also important in the fic. So, probably if it was a canon where it was required, then I would do what I could to get help to get it right?  The good thing about the internet is that you can usually find someone, although usefully for me, I already knew someone. 19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Doctor Who! 20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I'm going to wimp out on this along with everyone else.  Although... if any of you have a fave fic of mine, that would be very cool to hear!  (But I don't expect anyone to.) Sometimes I'm pleased enough with the latest to feel it's that, but that's not always the case, and it isn't currently.  (No, offence, Latest Works!  I like you, it just only happens once in a while, usually when I've managed something I've wanted to do for years.)

I won’t tag anyone, because I know lots of people also did this on Dreamwidth, but it’s always VERY cool to see people’s answers to these things and memes are for stealing.

#fanfic #writing #memes #writing meme #ao3 #fannish nonsense #long post #rambling about fic #replies #allegoriesinmediasres #the c+p worked even with the links! #\o/

[silverfoxarchive]

Hyper Focus - FreedxLevy Ficlet

Requested by @furidojasutin  Requests tentatively open.  Rating: E For Everyone with a slight Hint of Innuendo  Setting: Modern AU  This was based off the prompt: “You keep staring at me instead of watching the film. What’s up?”

@fairytail-rarepairs

----

Levy missed a step in the dark.

Not. She felt that close to accurate one could get to explaining her current situation all the same. It began with that blissful emptiness that came after finishing a good book. The completion of a thrilling story followed by the realization that there was no more. What next was there to do? Instead of fall into the inevitable funk of finding a new book to read, Levy chose to bask in the moment, the depth of feelings that clung to her from beautifully captured words on paper.

That moment of contentment became dashed by the sounds of the television, blaring at a current seen that meant to be a jump scare. Alas, due to Levy’s distraction, it didn’t shock her. In fact, it confused her. When did I turn the T.V. on? Wait, isn’t that the show Freed and I were supposed to be watching together-

It clicked. A new horror show had aired on Netflix. Levy had planned with Freed to watch the episodes together. If it was playing now that meant she’d missed his calls and failed to contact him about coming over. Guilt washed through her as she attempted to fling herself off the couch to check her phone as firm hands pressed down on her legs, keeping them in place. Levy jolted, body reflexively moving to strike out.

She froze, instead. Freed, the subject of her worries, chuckled in his seat, thumb rubbing gently on her petite ankle as he looked to her, smirking.  “I thought you liked ghost stories, Levy?”

“What?” The question passed Levy’s lips before she could consider what was happening. Freed was here. When did he- how did-? Blowing a strand of green hair from his face, he motioned towards the t.v. as if that answered all the queries wrecking in her mouth.

“Did that rattle you more than usual?” He replied, grabbing the remote to pause it. 

“Erm,” Levy rallied herself, toes curling on his lap while she bit her lip, “N-no, I’m fine! You don’t have to pause it!”

Keep watching so I can figure out what’s going on!

She had many questions. The first of which, was the time. With the windows dark, it was no longer early afternoon like she had thought. The second was a more immediate one. What time had Freed arrived and how did he get through her front door. In all the years she knew him (and months of dating) he never seemed the type to break into an apartment.

In fact, Levy had to admit to herself, with how comfortably she had settled down with legs across his lap, there was no way some part of her hadn’t been aware of his presence. This was embarrassing. Humiliating actually. Did he think she had been watching? There was no way he was that oblivious after entering her home while she’d been preoccupied!

How then-? How, when, why? Levy was tongue-tied. Should she get upset? Assume the worse and yell at him? What would Lucy say if she knew of this? What would Cana say?

Dump him! Oh goodness, Levy didn’t want to do that. Let’s not think of Cana, then.

What would Jet and Droy say then? Levy didn’t entertain a mental image to that reaction. Her two best friends would react worse! She licked her lips, fumbling with the edges of her book absentmindedly. Freed was calm, a peaceful expression softened his features and the barest hint of an entertained smile curved his lips. He was enjoying the show at least.

The show she hadn’t watched a single moment of. Crap, would he be irritated if she asked to rewind? Her ankle was hot from the palm of his hand and what normally was a comforting gesture from him pulled Levy’s focus further inward.

She wouldn’t have gotten into such a position with anyone. Levy had to accept her subconscious was more than happy to snuggle up. Of course, in their months of being together, Freed had been a perfect gentleman. (For the most part, teasing still occurred, but she was as much an instigator as he was for that.) Even now, he seemed perfectly poised, unruffled as screams echoed off the glowing screen.

Why did he start the show without her? That was the biggest question burning at the tip of her tongue. She wanted to watch it too! Levy’s befuddlement melted away to mild annoyance as she found the words to speak, but never uttered a sound.

His eyes weren’t on the t.v. They were on her. One brow quirked up in curiosity. “You keep staring at me instead of watching the movie. What’s up?”

Oh! Oh no, no no- Levy squeaked and flipped her book open, quickly hiding her face as heat shot up her ears. It was hot. Too hot. She needed air. Water. Anything! “Erm, I just- well,  you know-”

“I know what?” He prompted, pausing the show to keep his attention on her. Eyes narrowed as mischief gleamed in his pupils, “Is there something in my hair, or am I just handsome?”

“No!” She backpedaled, book lowering to reveal her wide, brown eyes, “Err, I mean, of course you are, but that’s not it!”

He raised both brows. “Ouch. Way to attack my ego, Levy.”

She groaned, unsure if her face would catch fire first or the book in front of her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know when you got here or turned the T.V. on!” Levy blurted, quickly hiding her face again.

Her wall clock ticked the seconds of silence that fell between them; Levy’s face burning evermore as Freed blinked. The mischief left his eyes and was replaced by quiet concern. Tilting his head, he reached across the couch to lower the book from her face, his bafflement plain to see.

“You... “ He tested the words on his tongue, astonished at Levy’s revelation. “You don’t remember telling me to let myself in with the spare key. Or when I sat down? Forgive me, but you’re joking right?”

“N-no.” Levy meekly admitted.

This increased Freed’s confusion, looking from her phone on the coffee table, to the t.v. he paused and back to Levy again. “Ah, that explains some things.”

“Care to enlighten me then?” Levy asked, nose scrunching from the tiny pout that formed her lips, “Because I only remember sitting down to read at two while waiting for you and next I know, you’re here and the sun is gone!”

“Levy,” Freed said, but the rest of his sentence was interrupted.

“And what’s worse,” She was on a roll now, the slight clear on her face, “You started the show without me while I was STILL reading! I wanted to watch it, too, you know!”

“Levy, please calm down, it’s all right.”

She was still going, using Freed’s arms as a brace to raise up and face him directly, eyes piercing into his. “Why didn’t you ask me to put my book down? Now I’ve missed half the evening with you!”

Levy paused then, considering Freed’s earlier words and gnawed her lip, nervously, “- What’s all right?”

“Everything, naturally.” Levy was stunned to see the confusion lift from Freed’s face, calm amusement came in its stead as he carefully pulled the book from her fingers, setting it gently on the table beside them. He then moved to place her phone into Levy’s slim fingers and pointed to the television. “I didn’t start the series we agreed to watch.”

Eye’s widened as Levy looked toward the screen, seeing the title of a movie she’d watched months ago blaring in large white letters.  Her face heated once again, ashamed to have not noticed it sooner. “O-oh-”

Freed tapped her phone next, turning her attention back to her hand, “And if you check your messages, you’ll see the time I arrived and the invite to use the spare key.”

Sure enough, it took Levy two swipes to find it, noting the time had been right at five on the dot. The agreed time for their night together. Sheepish, she peeked through her blue fringe of hair and laughed helplessly. “I... can you believe I don’t remember any of this?”

“To be fair,” Freed said, amused, “you had your nose in that book when I came through the door and despite responding to me, you never once left it. I assumed it must have been a very intriguing novel. So I chose a movie to watch as I waited for you to finish.”

“But-!” Levy paused, laughter turning to giggles, “Freed, you could have stopped me! I wouldn’t have cared. Oh god, I can’t believe I zoned out THAT much!”

“True, I admit this is partially my fault,” He brushed the hair from her eyes with a chuckle and kissed her forehead, “but I really didn’t mind waiting. We can start our show after dinner, how’s that sound?”

Who cared what Lucy or Cana thought. Levy realized she’d begun to panic for no reason. Not really. This whole thing was embarrassing. A story she decided to tuck away and leave it between them. (She doubted he’d purposefully tell it to others, being far more private a person than she, after all.) How many times had a book pulled her away to another world to the point she forgot to do basic human needs such as eating or sleeping? The answer was too many to count and now this moment would be added to the lot of them.  Smiling, Levy nodded her head, breathless as she giggled at herself. Good grief, was she a mess!

“But what if we end up wanting to watch more of it?” She asked, finally sliding her feet from his lap to stand, stunned at how numb her legs were. Levy grimaced, stumbling slightly, but Freed moved to steady her, standing with ease. She appreciated his assistance, still too flustered to look him in the eye.

It was a good thing she had dinner mostly prepared. It would provide a perfect distraction. Freed followed after, used to their routine of nightly meals and more than ready to pull out the needed dishware.

“Oh, I’m more than willing to stay late, if that’s what you’re implying.” He murmured, head tiling to speak behind her ear, heated breath causing a new wave of warmth to wash through her. This one different from her embarrassment. Levy almost tripped over air at the motion, catching herself on the nearby counter, thankful the walk from one room to the other hardly took a few steps.

Levy licked her lips and cleared her throat, bustling away at the thawed meat in her fridge as Freed chuckled behind her. He was having way too much fun at her expense now! She’d have to find a way to avenge herself later. For now, Levy vowed to try and not drop anything.  

“Y-yeah, that’s fine! Absolutely!” She squeaked.

Oh, but Freed wasn’t done, closing the distance as she busied herself at the counter, one arm wrapping around her waist as he nuzzled his nose into the hollow of Levy’s neck.

“Just one other thing.” He whispered, lips curled into a devious grin.

Levy had to fight back another squeak, “Erm, y-yeah?”

Trailing his nose along her pulse, he waited a few, agonizing seconds before placing an open-mouthed kiss against her skin. “Let’s try and not get so hyper focused that you forget my name tonight, hmm?”

“F-Freed!”

#Silver's Fanfiction #FT Fanfiction #Fairy Tail Fanfiction #Fairy Tail #FreedxLevy #Frevy #Freed Justine #Levy Mcgarden #FT Rare Pair #Fluff Prompt #furidojasutin

[trashyeggroll]

Boba for the kitten guess! X/G ficlet

📢 Kitten guesses are now closed!! standby for your results 📢

alas anon… tis not the Boba babey in that video

and what an iconic pairing that I know who you mean by their initials 😭🤣

#asks #ask meme #noodle kittens

[shijiujun]

if tang yi discovered that shaofei kissed another person for a work mission what would he do?? Have you an headcanon?

heya!!! hi again if you’re the anon who sent me the two previous asks on what my headcanons are - i don’t get enough of those so THANK YOU and also like i’m blown away that any person who ask me about my headcanons HAHAHA i’m sorry it took so long btw I HAVE BEEN SWAMPED WITH WORK

okay, so let’s break it down: tang yi discovering that shaofei kissed another person for a work mission - i can totally see this happening AND it’s likely that when shao fei is first assigned the role (he’s the captain, and he HAS to take one for the team because okay, the mark is gay and unfortunately, zhao zi isn’t his type so shao fei has to volunteer himself after a process of elimination, but he’s super reluctant to do it because shit, if tang yi ever finds out about this- NO, tang yi CANNOT find out, over his dead body, but then good boyfriends communicate right? what if tang yi finds out and then gets angry at the fact that shao fei didnt tell him? okay, maybe he’ll tell tang yi AFTER the deed is done, at least by then it’s done and they don’t have to think about it anymore)

and so he gets it done, tries to avoid kissing the mark as much as possible but alas, his efforts were for naught and the mark totally sneaks a kiss in and shao fei freezes but he has to do his job!!!

after, when he gets home, after he’s showered and brushed his teeth a gazillion times, he’s very quiet and keeps sneaking glances at tang yi - tang yi who looks so perfect with his hair all fluffy and down at home, tang yi in those pajamas that shao fei loves, tang yi already seated in bed, reading a book quietly as he waits for shao fei to join him in bed. shao fei could barely look tang yi in the eye earlier, and lucky for shao fei, tang yi doesn’t seem to have noticed anything wrong with him yet, but he also knows that it’s only a matter of time before tang yi finds out (and come onnn zhao zi will probably tell jack anyway and then jack somehow, for some reason, will get this information back to tang yi even tho the man isn’t working for him anymore)

secrets between the both of them have never been a good thing - just look at the four years they spent disliking and fighting with each other on the tang guo dong and li zhen jie case. and after everything they’ve been through, they promised that there wouldn’t be any secrets between them. not the important ones.

and frankly, shao fei loves and respects tang yi too much to hide this from him.

so he makes his way slowly to bed, a towel slung around his neck as he idly dries his hair, and he sits on the bed, on his side of the bed. after a moment, shao fei turns around, bites at his lips and calls-

***

“Tang.”

Tang Yi looks up from his book, his eyes crinkling as he smiles, “How was work today?”

At that, Shao Fei is once again reminded of what he had to do for work. His face crumples almost immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Tang Yi asks, his brows furrowing as he sees the look on Shao Fei’s face. “Did something happen?”

And the story just comes tumbling out. Stammering and also shooting furtive looks at his boyfriend, Shao Fei explains how he had to kiss the mark today, and he tried to avoid it as much as he could, and oh my god please don’t be angry-

Shao Fei is fully prepared to face Tang Yi’s wrath. He’s seen the man’s anger enough times over the years to know that Tang Yi is going to be pissed. Pointing his own gun at him in the car a while back and also shoving him to the floor the other time with Hong Ye before Shao Fei realised that he loved Tang Yi, and even after, that time when he revealed that Chen Wen Hao was Tang Yi’s father. Even when Tang Yi was in prison, and after he got out and they started living together for real, they had their fair share of fights, just as any couple would. 

Shao Fei is prepared to spend the night in the guest room. He’ll think of how to grovel his way back into Tang Yi’s good graces tomorrow. Seriously, this wasn’t even entirely his fault, he didn’t want to kiss the mark either!

So deep he is in his thoughts that Shao Fei literally jolts when Tang Yi kisses him. He hadn’t even seen Tang Yi move so close to him, and he startles when he feels the familiar press of lips to his, because he really doesn’t expect the warm response. He was already picturing a cold, lonely and miserable night without his boyfriend wrapped around him in sleep. But he still melts into it, especially when Tang Yi presses even closer, a warm hand caressing at his cheek, at the side of his face, over his skin, and deepens the kiss.

When they finally pull apart, Shao Fei frowns, confused.

“You’re not angry? I kissed him. I really did. I mean, I tried not to and it was for my job, but I still kissed him.”

Tang Yi nods and raises an eyebrow, then hums, “So you said.”

“You’re really not angry?”

Shao Fei asks again in disbelief. Is Tang Yi lulling him into a false sense of security for some reason… What’s going on? And if Tang Yi really doesn’t mind, if he really isn’t angry then…

Shouldn’t Tang Yi be angry? As his boyfriend, seeing your boyfriend kissing some other person, it’s only normal to be all jealous and angry, is it not? What does this even mean? Why isn’t Tang Yi jealous? 

An unpleasant memory surfaces. A tall vixen in a see-through mesh shirt, locking lips with Tang Yi under the dim lights of a bar, a terrible melody played by the saxophone drifting through the air-

Seeing Shao Fei’s frown and pout, Tang Yi can more or less guess what’s going through Shao Fei’s head. He feels a rush of absolute fondness for this idiot sitting in front of him, and Tang Yi knows he must definitely love this man, because how would he be so willing to put up with this dumbass otherwise?

“Ah Fei. You said it yourself, you had to… seduce your target as a part of your job. Am I really this petty in your eyes?”

“You are,” Shao Fei snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking away.

Tang Yi rolls his eyes, but continues anyway. “Did you want to kiss him?”

“No! Of course not!”

“You tried your best to avoid having to kiss him?”

“Yeah, definitely!”

“Are you dumping me for someone else?”

“What?!” Shao Fei exclaims, almost jumping to his feet if Tang Yi’s hand wasn’t wound so securely around his waist. “Of course not! How could you think- Of course I’m not dumping you for him! Who the hell is he?”

Tang Yi nods, and amusement shines in his eyes. “And you love me.”

“And I-” Shao Fei repeats, and when his mind finally processes what Tang Yi just said, his entire body just… slumps over, all the tension leaving him as he leans into Tang Yi’s hold properly. 

“And I do love you. The person I love is you. Only you,” he murmurs, the words both a declaration and a promise.

Tang Yi pulls Shao Fei closer, his chin resting on the top of Shao Fei’s head. He breathes out, enjoying the way Shao Fei fits just so naturally against him. It’s been more than three years since they got together, and every day Tang Yi thanks his lucky stars and Boss Tang who’s definitely watching over him, for sending Shao Fei to him.

(He thanks his mother too, and these days its easier to think about the woman who gave birth to him but never got to know him as his mother.)

“Are you an idiot?” Tang Yi huffs, almost in laughter. “This was what got you all tied up in knots all evening? Ah Fei, you’re lucky I love you.”

He doesn’t doubt Shao Fei’s love for him. He cannot. The man waited for him while he sat in jail for a year and a half. If Shao Fei was the type to cheat on him, he would’ve walked away while Tang Yi was rotting in prison, but Shao Fei stayed.

Shao Fei stayed for him, visited him every week without fail and lit up those dark days with his bright smiles that were only for Tang Yi. It was sometimes blinding, just how much Tang Yi could see the love for him, all in Shao Fei’s eyes. 

If given a choice, he would choose to drown in those eyes forever.

His voice muffled against Tang Yi’s shirt, Shao Fei says, “I really thought you would be so angry. I was already prepared to sleep in the guest room tonight!”

“Well, I’m not. Although…”

As he trails off, humming in consideration, Shao Fei pulls away with wide eyes and stares at Tang Yi. “You said you weren’t angry!”

The corners of Tang Yi’s mouth curve into a smirk, and he replies, “I’m not. But you did kiss someone who’s not me. You have to make it up to me.”

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Shao Fei asks, “How?”

Tang Yi taps at his own lips. “You have to give me ten times the number of kisses you gave him.”

“That’s all?”

“Mmhmm,” Tang Yi makes a noise of assent. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Shao Fei’s disbelieving look morphs into a bright, bright grin at that. 

There you are, Tang Yi thinks fondly.

“You said it yourself! No takebacks!”

Before Tang Yi can reply to that, he finds himself with an armful of Shao Fei again as the man tackles him. The force of the hug causes Tang Yi to fall back, Shao Fei ending up on top of him. 

Shao Fei gives him a peck on the lips once, then pulls back. Kisses him again for the second time. Then a third, and a fourth, and-

-and they lose count after that.

***

WOW OKAY so i finally got like a free hour to do stuff and was just gonna briefly take a shot at this ask and headcanon and then of course i kind of died and ran away with it and as everyone knows I’M LIKE THE SHITTIEST WRITER and that’s why i do gifs and shitposts but this ran away from me literally and i’m so sorry if any of you were forced to read through this. and i’ve literally never written a ficlet/fic before whatever THIS DOESN’T COUNT and yup no worries guys gonna get right on Trapped Novel Ch. 7 and other chapters huggles

TL:DR anon i hope this makes sense?!!! thank you for sending me a headcanon, and have a cute Chris/Jake and all my love

#history 3: 圈套 #history3: trapped #history 3: trapped #tangfei #asks #OMG IDK WHAT I WAS DOING #this is a monstrosity #my apologies #stebeee will stick to gifs #if you made it all the way to the tags #wow #yes ch 7 will come #what have i done

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

hey babe since we were robbed of supernatural!garcyatt threesome smut because those fuckers can't exist without copious amounts of angst can you pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease give us just a lil bit PLEEEEASE

*cackles* I am more than happy to oblige! I was a bit sad when it turned out I couldn’t work threesome smut into Thicker Than Water, so I’m putting that here! Happy Halloween everyone!

I recommend reading Thicker Than Water first but if you don’t, all you need to know is that Lucy is a witch, Wyatt is a werewolf and her familiar, and Flynn is a vampire and Wyatt’s anchor (aka what ties him to his human side when he transforms into a wolf). They’re all in love and dating after 52k words of stupidity.

Consider this along with the Confidence Trick Halloween ficlet to be my Halloween present for you all this year! You might recall that I have a properly scary fic oneshot that I said I’d be posting today, but alas, other stuff got in the way so that will be posted hopefully tomorrow or the day after. But enough dawdling--onto the smut!

They were lying idly in bed when Lucy brought it up.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to bring it up sooner, it was just... Wyatt was a bit skittish about this kind of thing. When you had just come to accept that you were bi, and in love with two people at once, and also those two people were a vampire and a witch and that was still pretty illegal (although Lucy was working very hard on changing that and people seemed to be listening), naturally you could be a bit intimidated when it came to sexual stuff.

So she’d waited, and now they were all cuddling in bed, which was Wyatt’s favorite pastime, so it had seemed like the best chance to bring it up.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” Flynn noted, sounding a bit drowsy.

Thanks to feeding on them regularly, Flynn now had... he didn’t like to call it a psychic bond since he couldn’t read their thoughts, but it was more like an empath bond. He could sense their emotions, even over distances. It was helpful, and sort of evened things out between all of them, since as Lucy’s familiar, Wyatt and Lucy could sense when the other one was upset or in danger.

Wyatt, who had been dozing, opened his eyes to look at Lucy.

Lucy shrugged. “I just had a question for Wyatt.”

“What kind of question?” Flynn asked, as if he already knew the answer and wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to handle it or not.

Lucy drew on the magic in the air, running it over Flynn and Wyatt’s shoulders simultaneously. Wyatt looked more alert now, and she saw Flynn try (and fail) to hide a shudder. “Rufus told me about how you halfway transformed so you could carry him away from the bunker,” she told Wyatt. “So can you... only transform parts of yourself at one time?”

“Sure, if I concentrated enough.” Wyatt shrugged. “It helps if you two are there.”

Flynn was Wyatt’s strongest anchor, but Lucy helped too, especially as the witch to his familiar. She loved that, loved how they were all intertwined with each other in different ways like a Celtic knot, unceasing, never knowing where one began and the other ended.

“So could you... make just one part of yourself... wolfish?”

She was not into bestiality. She liked Wyatt human when she fucked him (and oh, had she fucked him). But she also liked to feel nice and stretched and full, and werewolves, she had heard, had this trait when they fucked...

Wyatt finally seemed to get where she was coming from, because he groaned and buried his face into a pillow. “You know that we don’t usually actually do that, right?” he asked, his voice muffled. “Like, that’s not a thing, don’t listen to porn.”

 “But it’s natural in wolves, so theoretically--”

“Not just theoretically, seriously, have you ever looked up ‘knotting’ on the supernatural porn sites?” Wyatt asked, tilting his head back up and blushing furiously. “Yes, okay, we can do it but it’s not--it’s a thing that you humans seem to like, God only knows why, doesn’t it hurt!?”

“Don’t look at me,” Flynn said dryly. “I’m not the one who likes getting his dick bitten during a blowjob.”

“I knew I would regret asking you to do that, I knew you would hold it over me, I knew it...”

“Well?” Lucy asked. “Can you or can’t you knot me?”

Wyatt groaned. “Yes, if you really want me to, I can.”

“I can make it worth your while,” Lucy promised. If Wyatt really didn’t want to do it, of course, he didn’t have to, but...

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you offering?”

Lucy intensified her magic, skating it over his body, wrapping it around his wrists and his throat and tightening it for a brief second.

Wyatt’s eyes went dark. He didn’t like ropes or chains of any kind. That made the wolf in him panic. But Lucy’s magic, he’d told her, was different. It was her, just like when Flynn used his vampiric strength to hold Wyatt down while he fed on him.

“Okay,” Wyatt croaked, and oh yes, it was on.

Flynn rolled his eyes, but Lucy pulled him to her. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to feed on us while this is happening,” she whispered, right up against his lips.

Flynn nipped at her mouth, not enough to draw blood but enough to sting. “You’re a menace.”

“Of course I am. Didn’t they warn you about witches? Evil things that enslave men?”

“Evil? Never.” Flynn nudged her nose with his. “But yours? Yes. Tijelo i duša.”

Lucy still didn’t know a lot of Croatian, but she knew a pledge of love when she heard one, and she kissed him, slick and deep, letting him wrap her up in his arms for a crushing embrace before she wrenched herself away to take care of Wyatt.

Wyatt was watching them with dark, hooded eyes, his face flushed. Lucy flicked her magic and he yelped as he flipped over onto his back, panting in surprise. She grinned.

“Hands above your head,” she cooed.

Wyatt did as he was told and Lucy slid her magic up and around, twining across his body like invisible snakes, holding him in place. Wyatt whined, his cock swelling, and Lucy grinned wickedly. He really was so easy to turn on.

Flynn wrapped an arm around her from behind, securing her against his back as he slid his other hand down between her legs. Cuddling naked had advantages like this. “He does look so pretty like this,” Flynn mused. “All helpless.”

“You’re both the worst,” Wyatt managed to choke out.

“Be a good puppy and watch,” Lucy replied, and then she gasped, her hips jerking as Flynn sank his fingers into her.

He didn’t bite her, not just yet. He knew how much she loved that, she and Wyatt both, and so he liked to hold out. Flynn always protested it was a lie but he was a massive tease when he wanted to be. They all were, all three of them incorrigible.

Lucy bit her lip, whining as Flynn rubbed against her clit. Bastard, how dare he know exactly how to make her melt.

“I’m ready,” she promised, gently shoving Flynn’s hand away and grabbing Wyatt’s cock. It felt like normal as she sank down on it, as she started to move, but then--then--

Wyatt groaned, his face screwing up in concentration, his body jerking, and a moment later Lucy cried out because it was shifting, growing, fuck, swelling up at the base and she was clawing at Flynn’s arms as they held her, kept her steady. The knot stopped just shy of too much, and she shuddered to a stop, her and Wyatt both, gulping down air as they struggled for breath.

Flynn soothed them, petting Wyatt’s hair, kissing her neck, until she felt like she could move again, like she wasn’t going to rip herself in half if she so much as twitched. It was--it was a lot, but she could make it work, she wanted to make it work, and she tightened her magic around Wyatt just to hear him moan for it.

“You ready?” Flynn asked, petting his hands across her stomach, her breasts, and Lucy nodded, tipping her head back.

The first sink of his fangs into her always hurt, just a bit, but that was smoothed away almost at once by the pure pleasure that coursed through her. She cried out, knowing that Flynn was sometimes a bit insecure, worried that he was hurting her, and that hearing her make noise like that helped to remind him that she had asked for this, that she liked this.

Lucy felt like she was stuck between two electrical circuits, between two pits of fire, and she moved without finesse, shoving herself down again and again onto Wyatt’s cock, shoving up into Flynn’s mouth, her magic sparking all through the air, around Wyatt, around Flynn even, until she felt like she was sinking into honey and she sagged against Flynn, overwhelmed.

Wyatt shuddered, still inside her, still needing to come, and Flynn gently moved around her, still holding her up, and bent down over Wyatt’s neck.

Wyatt made a desperate, greedy noise and then a sound like a sob as Flynn drank from him. Lucy could see that Flynn was hard, too, hard and close, and she redirected her magic, wrapping it around him, touching him even though she couldn’t get up the physical motor skills to do it just then. Flynn made a startled, pleased noise at the back of his throat, still drinking from Wyatt, and Wyatt let out a desperate moan before jerking and coming inside of her.

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was--that was a lot, okay, yeah, but she liked it, they were definitely doing this again, oh fuck.

Flynn pulled away from Wyatt, eyes black and dazed, and Lucy realized he’d come as well at some point.

Excellent.

She slumped down on top of Wyatt, releasing her magic, and she felt Wyatt shift back to being fully human so that he could slide out of her.

“Okay,” Wyatt croaked, sounding like he hadn’t had a glass of water in years. “Okay, I could get behind that.”

Flynn snorted and Lucy laughed, breathless and dizzy and feeling so, so good.

#mads answers things #mads writes stuff #timeless #timeless fanfic #li'l ficlet #garcyatt #garcyatt fanfic #this is pure filthy smut plain and simple #it's werewolves and vampires I'm sure you know what that means #happy halloween everyone enjoy your dirty present #koortega

[discocritic]

24, 34, 38? :)

24 - favorite genre to write and read:

I like reading sad things, dramatic things, non-hetero things... stories that tug at your heartstrings and ones you almost don’t want to read again because you felt it so hard the first time, but ones with at least a semi-happy ending, too... and also space stuff. So... gay science fiction with some angst thrown in, but it all turns out good at the end?

Writing, though... I don’t know if it fits in one genre. Just look at my fics and see what you can figure out from there! 😁

34 - what was the hardest scene you ever had to write?:

As in, emotionally, like it’s killing me with each word, or physically, like I have no idea what needs to happen next?

I’ve never really written anything that’s made me like, die, just from sadness or something like that, but I have written scenes that made other people start crying. Which is great. I love that. Please shed tears at my works; it makes me feel valid. 

In terms of getting off my ass to start writing a scene I dreaded, just because it was hard... pretty much any one out of the four viewpoints from each chapter of Don’t Stop if I Fall. There’s lots of stuff that happens when they’re all separated but that eventually ties into each individual viewpoint, and it’s hard to organize that! That’s why I’m slowly condensing it into one or two longer POVs a chapter, after characters start switching company and locations.

38 - weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

Man, I dunno. Most of my ficlets aren’t really weird... there was that one time in the middle of the night, though, that I woke up and thought, what if I wrote about the Fab Four going underwear shopping together?

Would’ve been interesting, but alas. I never wrote it and probably never will. Anyone feel free to develop this further. 

#thank you!! #sorry it's long lmao i got excited #on the disco floor #don't stop if i fall #asks #:D

[edenfalling]

[Fic] “Roll for Seduction” - Homestuck

Summary: Jade's attempt to make New Year's cookies derails into an impromptu singalong. (1,175 words)

Note: This fic was written in response to the prompt we wanted to cook but now we are dramatically singing a duet with kitchen utensils in our hands, this is quality PerformanceTM from snogfairy's wholesome domestic prompts list. It's also a Ladies Bingo fill for the square: Sigh No More, Ladies, on the grounds that that's notionally a song, and specifically a song telling women to stop paying attention to men and just have fun. ;) Part of the Leaf and Letter AU.

--------------------------------------------- Roll for Seduction ---------------------------------------------

"Explain to me again the thought process behind this disaster?" Rose said as she ran a dubious eye over the previously clean and bare counters of her kitchen. "And possibly also how you talked me into it?"

Jade smiled sheepishly from the far side of the granite-topped island, and Rose allowed herself a moment to appreciate how unselfconsciously sexy she looked with her hair tied up and back in a sloppy tail and an apron bearing a terrible pun -- sin(gerine)/cos(gerine) = a picture of a small orange -- tied over her old college hoodie and jeans. Then Jade raised one peanut-butter coated finger toward the ceiling and said, "Well! As for the first, I wanted to do something nice for my employees, and who doesn't like cookies? Even Karkat un-grumps a little in the face of baked goods! But holidays are messy and awkward both for larger cultural reasons and often for smaller personal reasons, so I figured it was more logical to make New Year's cookies. Which also conveniently lets me decorate everything with rainbow sprinkles, because fireworks!"

"Hurrah for fireworks," Rose said dryly.

"Exactly!" Jade said, stabbing her finger toward the ceiling. "Then, of course, we run into the slight problem that while I'm an excellent cook, I'm not an experienced baker of anything other than bread. On a related note, I also can't leave What Pumpkin closed indefinitely, so I figured I'd get everything baked in one day. You have a larger kitchen than I do, which allows me to mix up several batches of dough simultaneously, so as to maximize the efficiency of my baking process."

"I believe you're missing a 'theoretically' in that last sentence," Rose said.

Jade looked over the chaos of bowls, utensils, baking trays, and ingredients, and made a face. "Point conceded. But anyway, that's the thought process. As for why you agreed... I got nothing. Either my seduction skills are higher than I thought, or you're just a hopeless sucker."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Those aren't mutually exclusive options."

Jade paused, then grinned. "Both?"

"Both."

"Both is good! And on that note, since you're already here and not wearing anything froofy, come help me fight your stand mixer. I think it's decided I'm its new nemesis, and I'd really like to get this butter creamed sometime this year."

"So, within the next twelve hours," Rose said. "Well, since we've established that you're extremely seductive and I'm congenitally weak to your batted eyes--"

"--shouldn't that be battered eyes, considering?" Jade interrupted.

"...good pun, terrible connotations, maybe let's not."

"Oh. Ugh. Yeah, that's fair." Jade flicked her fingers as if banishing any unwelcome connotations from her baking process. "Anyway, bring your weak-willed butt into your kitchen and lend me your eldritch touch. I prefer to rule appliances with mutual respect, but I'm willing to use fear when gentler methods fail."

"I'm stealing that line for Senior Librarian Nalyx," Rose said as she walked into the kitchen. She poked at the stand mixer, then detoured to the sink to grab a damp rag. "Also, I think you got peanut butter onto the sensors. Sir Mixalot is a sensitive soul and won't turn on if he can't judge the distance from his beaters to the bowl."

"There are so many potential dirty puns in that statement that I can't decide which to make first," Jade said. "How do you just say things like that with a straight face?"

Rose shot her girlfriend a mock glare. "Excuse you? I haven't had a straight face in my life."

Jade dissolved into giggles. Rose took that as her rightful due, and began wiping down Sir Mixalot. "Oh, baby, look at you. How did you get into such a state? Peanut butter everywhere. Yes, yes, I know it's terrible. Hold still and I'll get you all cleaned up so you can get back to work. I know it's not your fault, you just can't do your best under these circumstances. Don't worry, I'll be handling you from now on, no more of Jade and her sticky fingers."

"That's not what you said last night," Jade put in, waggling her eyebrows.

Rose clapped her hands to Sir Mixalot's sides. "Language! Not in front of the impressionable appliances!"

Jade dissolved back into giggles. "Oh my god," she managed between laughs, "what got into you today? Not that I'm complaining! But if you were anyone else, I'd be wondering if you were--"

She trailed off.

"Drunk?" Rose finished wryly. "High? Well, how should I know what mysteries might have been lurking in the depths of my morning coffee? You were the one who brewed it and then waved it temptingly under my nose while I was attempting to steal another hour of warm, delicious sleep before steeling myself to face the stygian chill of midwinter."

"I feel like this is where we should be narratively compelled to break into 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'," Jade said, "only I don't remember the lyrics."

Rose snickered and then sang, deliberately off-key, "'Memory, all alone in the moonlight--'"

"You stop that," Jade said, pointing a wooden rolling pin sternly across the island.

"Right, right, you're a dog person. And anyway, you're more of a Disney princess than a washed-up starlet. Hmm. Princesses, memory problems..." Rose grinned. "I have it! 'Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember--'"

"Anastasia isn't actually Disney, you know."

"Who cares? 'And a song someone sings, once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm'--"

Jade joined in, her voice clear and strong, and Rose pulled up just enough of her high school choral training to drop down into makeshift harmony: "'Horses prance through a silver storm, figures dancing gracefully across my memory--'"

Rose caught Jade's eyes, and without needing to exchange words they mutually decided to jump over the instrumental interlude and go straight for the final verse. Jade raised her rolling pin like a microphone, and Rose felt something -- maybe the music, maybe longing for a better childhood than the ones either of them had had, maybe love... or maybe all three together -- swell in her chest and her throat as she sang.

"'Far away, long ago, 'Glowing dim as an ember, 'Things my heart used to know, 'Things it yearns to remember 'And a song someone sings 'Once upon a December.'"

Rose switched on Sir Mixalot by way of providing applause. It seemed less fraught than either rushing around the island to kiss Jade or letting the moment fade into awkward silence.

Sure enough, Jade snorted as she lowered her rolling pin. "Thank you, thank you, we'll be here all afternoon. Repeat performances unlikely, but the stars can probably be persuaded into other songs given the right incentive."

"Such incentive being?" Rose inquired over Sir Mixalot's steady whirr.

Jade licked peanut butter off her fingers, and winked. "I hear cookies work well."

After a hopefully unnoticeable pause to steady her voice, Rose said, "Then I suppose we'll have to bake some."

"And that," Jade said triumphantly, "is exactly how I got you to agree to this disaster in the first place."

---------------------------------------------

End of Ficlet

---------------------------------------------

I am not entirely sure why puns ended up being the running theme of this ficlet, but whatever. Also, as you can probably tell this was intended as an actual New Year's fic. I didn't get it done in time (alas!) but late is better than never. :)

For the curious, here is a link to Jade's apron, though I think hers is probably light blue.

#liz writes stuff #ladies bingo #homestuck #leaf and letter au #rose lalonde #jade harley

[littlelonghairedoutlawllho]

Phan Survey 2018

There have been a lot of new faces lately, so I thought maybe we could use this survey to get to know each other better, maybe find more kindred spirits to follow? (I, personally, also find it difficult to keep track of people across platforms, and I think this will help.)

Reblog or start a new post with your answers, and feel free tag people if you’d like! Don’t forget to use the #phansurvey2018 tag so we can find you!

(I clean forgot about doing this and then remembered it out of the blue this morning)

Basic info Name (or what we should call you): Shauna/LLHO Age: 23 Pronouns: she/her Location: Ireland Discord: shauna [littlelonghairedoutlaw] Rabb.it: not quite sure, actually FFN: littlelonghairedoutlaw AO3: ponderinfrustration Deviantart: i’ve tried to forget it exists Instagram: still haven’t decided if i’ll get one or not Shop(s): zilch Other: nada

Phan history 1. General phan since: October 2015 2. Part of Tumblr phandom since: November 2015 3. One-sentence summary of how you got into Phantom: listening to JOJ’s solo albums made me decide I should get on this 4. Phantom-related performances attended: alas, none 5. Adaptations you’re familiar with: Kay, ALW, Cherik 6. Other relevant tidbits you’d like to share (collections, costumes, celebrity encounters, etc.): i have a decent bootleg collection but the majority of it i still haven’t listened to

Blog 1. Main blog: littlelonghairedoutlaw 2. Phantom sideblog, if applicable: none 3. Other sideblogs you’d like us to know about: none 4. Your blog focus/aesthetic, if you have one: a shambles 5. Types of fan content you produce, if any: fic 6. Types of content you reblog (Phantom or otherwise): whatever catches my eye really or what I’m currently obsessed with. Art, fic, gifsets, occasional stream announcements. Interesting political stuff. Cool maps. A lot of WWI photos and other bits of history. And cows 7. Do you post or reblog NSFW content? not really and when I do it’s generally of the fic variety 8. Other general interests: History and medicine are two biggies, especially when they’re together and that’s 3/4 of the reason I love Doc Holliday. I also love books, cows, tea, and music and my taste in music is surprisingly broad. I love films but I don’t watch hald enough of them which is something I need to get on. I am an autumn child and I love that late October aesthetic of mist and crunched up leaves on the ground. Also, lately, hurricanes

Phan favorites 1. Favorite adaptation(s): Seeing as it specifically says adaptations I’m going with Kay. Mostly because it made me catch feelings and dragged me in the fandom 2. Favorite character(s): It changes on the reg, but probably Christine. Who I haven’t written half enough of lately 3. Ship(s) you ship, if any: Pharoga, E/C, R/C, Philippe/Sorelli, probably most other ships too, and I like to think I originated Christine/Sorelli 4. Favorite actor(s): There’s one man for me and that man’s Peter Karrie. Though I do love Alexander Lewis. And I have something of a crush on Gina Beck 5. Other Phantom-related obsessions: I like so many things on a deep level that at this point I can’t pinpoint what’s an obsession and what’s not and what I just made up

Fandom involvement 1. Favorite phan blogs: I love so many people that the list is longer than I have fingers 2. Content you’d love to see more of: More content exploring ships other than E/C. More rarepair stuff too. More domestic fics and I can always do with more hurt/comfort especially if there’s injuries and illnesses involved and too many feelings all over the place 3. Phandom discord server(s) that you frequent: I’m not in either of them a whole lot tbh 4. Do you/would you attend phan/-hosted streams? If so, what would you like to see streamed? I do my best to attend as many as I can, if it’s not too late or I’m not too tired, or otherwise tied up keeping cows in line. I love seeing bootlegs though because mostly they’re of people that I’ve been meaning to check out and just haven’t gotten around to 5. Do you read fanfiction? If so, what kind(s)? Not half as much as I used to, but I’m still a sucker for a good hurt/comfort. And cuddling. And soft sweetness especially when it has a side of angst. AUs in different time periods and soulmate AUs. And post-canon stuff, especially when it’s post-canon that’s working in actual historical events (ahem). And I am surprisingly fond of kidfic 6. Anything else you’d like to add? There are so many stockpiled ficlets on my laptop I’m not sure when I’ll ever get them all posted

I’d tag peope but most people have probably done it already

#phansurvey2018 #phantom stuff #about me

[asflowersfade]

Ficlet: Playing Santa

A MacGyver ficlet. Murdoc does not expect to find this little mouse in his trap. Or, Mac gets shot playing Santa, just as Jack predicted. An alternate ending to ep 211. Mac’s POV.

Mac decides to give Cage a teddy bear for Christmas. He knows it’s a silly idea - the thing’s huge and fluffy and it has a big red bow tied around its neck - but he thinks it might make Cage smile and that’s what this is about.

And by this, he means breaking into her apartment and leaving the gift under her Christmas tree, Santa style. Too bad she doesn’t have a chimney. Oh well, the front door will have to suffice, then, what with the security system being nothing more than a small obstacle for someone like him.

A very small obstacle, as it turns out. All he needs to disable it, is a paper clip, a little dexterity and some basic knowledge of how this system works. Hm, maybe he should’ve gotten her a better alarm and not a teddy bear. Alas. He’ll have to remind her to upgrade it first thing after Christmas.

Cage’s out, doing some last minute Christmas shopping, Mac knows. Still, he tiptoes around her apartment like a sneaky thief. He’s already been caught once, playing Santa - by Jack - if it happened again, he would never live it down!

So, he’s carefully shuffling across the open space, holding the teddy in front of him and peaking over its shoulder as not to trip over anything. He’s headed for the Christmas tree with the plan to arrange the toy underneath it, when--

“Well, well, well, that’s one little mouse I did not expect to find in this trap!” a mocking voice echoes behind him, from the shadows of the kitchen corner. A voice Mac knows very well.

He whips around, dropping the teddy bear. “Mur--”

A silent pop whispers through the otherwise quiet apartment and a second later, Mac cries out in pain. Hot waves of agony shoot up and down his right leg and his knee buckles. He hits the floor hard, almost knocking his breath out, and his hands automatically seek out the source of the burning pain: a bullet wound, a mere inch or so away from the scar left behind by his self-inflicted wound from a few weeks ago.

“Really, MacGyver,” Murdoc sighs, stepping out of the shadows, gun pointed in Mac’s direction. “Not that I’m not glad you got yourself out of those ridiculous domestic terrorist charges but did you have to go and ruin my plan?”

Mac rolls onto his side, groaning, and the despite breath-stealing agony, he presses his hands hard against his wound to stop the bleeding. Still, he can feel his hot blood seeping through his tightly squeezed fingers while his toes slowly grow cold. He’s already getting lightheaded and that’s not a good sign.

Murdoc walks up to him, and dropping down into a crouch, he glances at the wound he caused. “That looks bad. But it’s your own fault really. I was trying just to nick you, you know?” He shakes his head. “Oh, well. Things happen. Besides, you do deserve some punishment for being where you had no place to be and complicating things for me.” He shakes his finger at Mac. “That’s not nice, you know?”

“What… do you want?” Mac grits out, gasping.

“Not you this time, obviously!” Murdoc rolls his eyes and waves his gun around Cage’s apartment in a very “Duh!” gesture.

“Cage? You were after… Cage?” Mac asks in disbelief.

“Blood loss is really dimming your wits,” Murdoc says. When he continues, he speaks slowly and clearly, “Yes. I was after Ms. Cage. Now, I’ll have to get her some other way. How annoying.

“I mean, I could wait for her here and kill her when she comes back but…” He looks down at Mac’s wound and sighs again. “You would probably bleed out before then. And as much as I want her to die, I want you not to die more - at least not yet,” he adds reasonably. “To take you out with a bullet would be so… so anti-climatic. Though I would enjoy watching you bleed out slowly.”

Mac decides to focus on the important part: Cage. “Why? Why her?”

“Hm?” Murdoc raises his eyebrows at him and then he grins. “Oh, isn’t that the question, my… little… poppet?” he replies, tapping Mac on the forehead with the silencer on his gun to the rhythm of his last three words. “Why don’t you ask her when she comes back?”

Blackness is starting to creep up on Mac, blanketing him. He’s cold and he can’t think. He can feel himself starting to shake as the puddle of his blood keeps growing bigger and bigger on the floor around him. He tries to speak but he can’t seem to move his tongue.

Murdoc almost pouts. “You’re no fun when you’re bleeding out, MacGyver. I’ll have to remember that for later.”

Then he goes through Mac’s pockets, searching for his phone - Mac shudders, feeling Murdoc’s hands on him - and when he finds it, he pulls it out and goes through Mac’s contact list.

“Since you already ruined my plans for killing Ms. Cage, let’s use this chance to gather some intel, shall we?” He looks down at Mac with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. “Let’s see how quickly your guard dog will respond to his master in peril…”

Murdoc dials a number and when the person on the other end picks up, he says gleefully, “Guess who, Jackie? Your boy’s bleeding out on the floor of Ms. Cage’s apartment right this second. What will you do about it?”

He drops the phone on the floor - Jack’s voice can be heard calling Mac’s name and cursing a blue streak - then he dips his gloved fingers into Mac’s blood. For a moment, he just stares at its redness in fascination. Then he smiles and slides his fingers down Mac’s cheek to grip his chin, leaving bloody streaks behind.

“See you soon, MacGyver,” Murdoc whispers. “But do not cross me again. This time, I’ll forgive you. Next time, I might not be so lenient.”

With that, he gets up and leaves. Mac loses consciousness before Murdoc can reach the door.

“I told you that playing Santa would get you shot one day,” Jack points out but there’s very little satisfaction in his voice. He looks rather grim, straddling a chair with his arms crossed on its back and watching Mac in his hospital bed.

“Yes, you told me so. Repeatedly,” Mac allows a little hoarsely, staring at the ceiling.

He’s been in the hospital for three days now. Or that’s what they tell him. He doesn’t remember much of the first two. Apparently, he almost bled out before Jack got to him. One surgery and many blood transfusions later, he still feels as weak as a newborn. And he can’t seem to force his hands to stop shaking. It’s the blood loss, nothing else. Just the blood loss…

This time, I’ll forgive you…

Mac swallows hard, eyes still trained on the ceiling. “Do we know why he did it?”

Jack lifts his eyebrows. “Why that psycho lurked around Cage’s apartment, planning to kill her?” He shakes his head. “No. Cage’s gone and Matty - who I’m sure knows what’s going on here - isn’t talking. And when I asked, she gave me the evil eye and told me to mind my own damn business. Well, I am minding my own damn business. You are my damn business. My damn business almost bled out on me, so pardon me if I want some answers!” He ends his annoyed tirade on a huff.

Frowning, Mac turns to look at Jack. “Cage left?”

Jack frowns, too. “Yeah,” he drawls. “She was here to say goodbye, don’t you remember?”

Mac remembers… something, from… yesterday? He remembers Cage in here, in this room. He remembers apologizing to her in a slurred voice. He remembers Cage leaning over him, saying, “I owe you my life…” And then… nothing, Mac must’ve fallen asleep again.

“I can’t remember pretty much anything from the past two days,” he sighs.

“Yeah, well,” Jack says, “Cage seemed to know what the whole thing was about. She mentioned someone from her past, or something? That she should’ve taken care of that a long time ago?” He waves a hand. “I don’t know, man. I was more concerned with your half-dead ass than her issues in that moment.”

“I hope she’ll be okay,” Mac whispers.

Jack snorts. “The way she looked when she left here? I would be more worried about the other guy.”

Mac hmms, not as sure about the outcome of that fight as Jack, then he tries to shift into a more comfortable position - only to hiss sharply when the dull pain in his thigh turns into a roaring agony.

“Would you stop squirming like a worm on a hook?” Jack snaps, but it’s not anger driving his temper, it’s concern. “You have two holes too many in you! No need to unplug them again!”

Fisting his hands into his cover, Mac rides out the pain, eyes squeezed shut. When it finally dulls again, he’s sweat soaked and drained, his breath shuddery. He opens his eyes and blinks back tears. And then he notices the pinched look on Jack’s face.

“What?” he rasps.

Jack swallows and shakes his head. “Kid, if that madman was less obsessed with you, if all he wanted was to kill you… you would be dead now,” he answers softly. “When I heard his voice on the phone, I was sure that he was calling me to gloat. That I would find you dead.”

“Jack…” Mac whispers thickly.

“And I thought you were dead,” Jack continues. “There was so much blood and you were-you were so pale... You looked dead! It almost killed me.” He rests his forehead against his crossed arms, hiding his face.

“Jack… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

Taking a deep breath, Jack lifts his head again and looks straight at Mac. “I know,” he cuts Mac off. “I know. And it’s not your fault. It’s just…” He pauses and when he continues again, his voice’s hard and sharp. “We need to get that bastard. We have to, Mac. And I don’t care how. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” Mac responds softly. And since he can still feel the tapping of the still warm silencer against his forehead, the grip of Murdoc’s bloody fingers on his chin, he agrees with Jack wholeheartedly. 

Because next time, they might not be so lucky.

#macgyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #murdoc #thehemingwaygoldfish #my fics #my macgyver fics

[astoryinred]

That Time of the Year (Enjonine modern verse, PG)

A/N: A ficlet for the modern verse. Not NSFW this time, alas. Pairing: Enjonine

That Time of the Year

“This has to be the third one this weekend!”

It took a second before Enjolras looked up from the criminal law reviewer he’d been trying to memorize for the past half hour. “Another of your high school classmates got engaged?” he asked dryly as he reached over to pick up his cup of coffee. 

Eponine rolled her eyes and set down her phone. “Not like I’d be invited to the wedding.” She sighed dramatically as she glanced out the window. The sun had set quite a while back, but the avenue below them was aglow with strings of lights and large Christmas lanterns. “What is it with this time of the year anyway?” 

He smirked at this uncharacteristic outburst before taking a sip of his drink. Then again the finals week had been doing funny things to their brains. “Commercialism. The demand has been created by large companies trying to profit from our need for sentiment.” 

She shook her head. “Showing off at reunions. You know that thing when your grand-aunt who hasn’t seen you in ages suddenly asks you when you’re tying the knot?” 

“Or it’s keeping someone tied all the way to Valentine’s.” 

“You may as well say it’s the cooler weather making people feel cozy.” 

Enjolras shrugged as he handed the cup of coffee to his partner to let her have a sip. “You sure I can’t get you anything to eat?” 

“I’m still full. We’ve been here for three hours just fueling our brain cells,” Eponine quipped. “Or more of your brain cells since I’m done with my paper. How much time do you need?”

“Give me ten.” Enjolras said, holding up the last page that he still had to peruse in this reviewer. ‘How you do it is a mystery to me,’ he thought as he watched Eponine take another sip of coffee. Perhaps it was her natural state of frenzy or practice from a lifetime of multi-tasking that allowed her to almost effortlessly finish her requirements for the semester while helping him review for his upcoming finals. He swallowed hard as he watched her push her slightly tangled dark hair behind her ears; this view was far more appealing than the overly highlighted notes he’d brought to this cafe. 

A crooked smile tugged at Eponine’s lips as her eyes met his. “No need to rush.”

Enjolras nodded. “In time,” he said as he reached over to clasp her hand. 

#enjonine #modern au #lovemyreadingsmorethanyou #eponine/enjolras