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sukiglycerin · 3 years

Text

dolce (sweetly, softly, gently)

* pairing: accompanist/violinist!katsuki bakugou x violinist!reader (gender neutral!) ft kamijirou

* genre: fluff, kinda angst, enemies to lovers, classical musician au hehe

* words: 9.5k (holy crap, this was a rollercoaster to write)

* warnings: swearing bc not only does bakugou exist, he is a prominent character, brief viola/second violinist jokes (reader’s words not mine), poor rosins being dropped :(

* a/n: SO this is very late for @prettysetterbaby‘s v-day collab!! pls check out all the other talented writers involved >< jj is an ANGEL for putting up with me being late T_T there’s some violin terminology in here but it’s fine if you don’t understand it! more notes at the end aha

* playlist (spotify in source link): violin sonata no.9, op.47 in a major “kreutzer” (beethoven) ; liebesfreud (kriesler) ; violin partita no.3 in e major (bach) ; duo concertante for 2 violins no.3 in d-sharp major, op.57 (beriot) ; clair de lune (debussy) ; duo for 2 violins in d-major, op.67, no.2 (spohr) ; 24 caprices op.1, no.24 in a minor (paganini)

* synopsis: being a soloist is not made easy by your new accompanist, bakugou. you step on each other’s toes when playing - but that’s alright, he’s just a pianist. you’re separated in your two worlds of musical instruments, until one day, you’re not. bakugou traverses over realms like a simple string crossing, and there’s a lot more he’s brought with him.

a double stop in violin is a technique in which two notes are played simultaneously. played correctly, one violin playing two notes should sound like two violins playing separate notes. if your life was a violin, you only needed double stops to play it. you'd perfected the art of being alone, playing the parts of two in your sad solo sonata. you were so, so sure you could compose and play for the whole orchestra - a symphony that would surely please the audience.

you were wrong. after all, a double stop has its limits as well, impossible to play with an interval of larger than a tenth. you were content with your double stops and playing by yourself. this was how you won countless competitions - what good would changing anything be?

you were born a soloist, or that's what your parents would say. you never followed the crowd, sticking to your own mind and doing what was true to you. you never worked well in an orchestra setting (and who knew what would become of you if you ever landed in second violin!). thus, you became a soloist, determined to keep the spotlight on you. it was you and your perfection that kept the eyes of the audience transfixed; you were desperate to keep their focus enraptured by every slight movement of your bow, every shift in finger position on the fingerboard. you wanted them to follow every dynamic and tempo change like their life depended on it, feel their emotion spark the moment your bow pressed a string. you were the only one on stage, an entertainer and an artist to the audience. you brought joy and sorrow through key changes and wonder through glissandos and held suspense with every tremolo. the audience was yours for an entire piece, for a story, for a lifetime.

oh, and there was the accompanist. what was his name again? batsugou? bakugou. the last part was a joke, of course. you'd never forget the man who ruined your first recital overseas.

katsuki bakugou was quickly made your accompanist after the previous one quit last minute and schedule clashes between any other potential candidates rendered them unable to travel with you. no one in their right mind would've come along on a plane to play a piano accompaniment for you. indeed, bakugou was not in his right mind. his name was prominent locally, an orchestral prodigy with the gift of perfect pitch since the tender age of thirteen. he never ventured internationally, though given the chance multiple times to do so. you could never understand why he never took any of the opportunities. you'd jump at any chance of expanding your musical horizons and performing for a larger audience, so it frustrated you to see someone with such potential to throw away possibly beneficial opportunities. not that you really paid much attention to him, anyway. bakugou was a pianist, and you were a violinist. you only cared about competition, not those with blessings you could only dream of achieving.

the months leading to your recital, bakugou had gone quiet. well, you didn't know him personally, so it was news of him that had gone practically radio silent. he was no longer featured in news articles or even pinned on bulletin boards for upcoming recitals. there were no updates from him on social media, too. not that you really paid attention, anyway. he was a prodigy, gifted naturally with talent, and you were a violinist.

an ambitious violinist, at that. you had dreams to perform anywhere out of the stifling air of japan. even to fly a short distance to south korea would be amazing, because it meant you'd be outside of japan. you worked towards this goal tirelessly. you dreamed of stepping on a plane, violin case in your right hand and your dreams in another, to fly to another country and perform. you wished to see the talent beyond your own bubble and feel the music resonate in an auditorium in a different way than it did in japan.

one day, that dream was realized. your violin case in one hand and dreams in another, you boarded the plane flying out of japan full of hope and the faith that good days were coming. while yes, you didn't expect to step out of that plane with anyone but your old accompanist, momo, bakugou's presence comforted you in the foreign atmosphere. for the first ten minutes, he said not a word to you but made it a point to speak to everyone else he could in what seemed like very convincingly fluent english.

to which you finally mustered up the courage to say, in japanese, "i thought you didn't travel internationally."

his japanese voice was a comforting sound. "i don't. this is my first time out of japan."

you stared at him like he just said he ate babies for breakfast (which seemed just as astronomically insane as him never stepping foot out of japan).

"but-" you stuttered. "your english is so good?"

"only because you can't understand it."

to be fair, he had a point. you could only say the basics, like, "hi," "how are you?", "i'm fine, and you?," and the ever-so useful, "do you speak japanese? my english is not good." he appeared to never use any of these phrases, so he was a god in english compared to you.

it was a miracle you navigated out of the airport with your luggage in hand and a general idea of how to get to the hotel you'd booked. you're not going to talk about the events in the hotel, though. sharing a bed with bakugou was a whole different story that consisted of him complaining about your phone usage at eleven pm and you complaining about his lack of sufficient english skills to be able to get the right hotel room (which he'd retort by saying "at least i speak english!").

the path to your first international competition was rocky, so understandably by the day of the performance, your metaphorical feet were sore and you only had water on your metaphorical mind. that is to say, you hadn't practiced with bakugou once until the day before the performance. said rehearsal was cut short due to misunderstandings as a result of bakugou's apparent not-so-fluency in english. you felt bad for him at this point.

and then you were up on stage, violin in one hand, bow in the other, and arms full of your childhood aspirations. also, definitely not prepared enough. you glanced once at bakugou before beginning and he looked confident enough. the lesson you learned that day was that looks can be deceiving.

something you could remember quite clearly was the way the spotlight shined on the varnish of your instrument as you held it, propped between your chin and shoulder. you focused on this shine before taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, and praying muscle memory would take over and you'd play the piece faithfully to the score.

you liked to think your playing was accurate. you, the soloist, were the main focus of the piece. the accompaniment made the piece richer and fuller, complementing the violin beautifully while keeping attention on said violin. the thing was, bakugou, like you, played like a soloist.

the performance was like a fight, and sadly not the graceful kind you'd see in a ballet. it was gory and a nuance to the ears, melodic tinkling of the piano becoming tears of a soldier dying in combat. at parts, you clashed by overshadowing the other by playing too loudly. sometimes it was you, and sometimes it was bakugou. it was a merciless game of tag; bakugou would be running to keep up with your playing; once achieving so, you were forced to start chasing after him. you can't exactly remember if he played well, though. for certain, he was not in sync with you, but you were mainly too preoccupied with your own playing to pay attention to his. listening to the recording of the performance, you were unable to evaluate his quality of playing properly, and thus, he remained your accompanist even when you returned to japan.

(actually, the biggest reason he stayed your accompanist was because of your classical musician friends' nagging. they were all in complete awe that the famous soloist, katsuki bakugou, had offered to be your accompanist, and begged for an autograph. of course, you declined.)

you figured that like you, bakugou was a soloist. he wasn't fit to assist your playing, far more suited to his own solos to entrance the audience with only his playing. being a soloist, he played like one too - that's simply how things worked. this understanding of him, though, still couldn't stop you from harbouring a small grudge against him for ruining your international debut.

and then there was the man himself, all standoffish and rough in words and persona. obscenities had no hesitation coming (thrust!) from his mouth. he yelled brashly and frequently and it astonished you that he was a classical musician, as most of your friends of the classical music profession were typically on the quiet, softer spoken side. those that were extroverts were optimistically so, in far contrast to bakugou, who you'd expect from looks alone to be playing in some heavy metal band. it was scary to hear his renditions of debussy's dreamy, serendipitous pieces when over your earbuds, he was yelling at some guy named "shitty hair" on his phone. you were curious how he looked recording the piece.

you didn't typically communicate, though. conversation, which only ever existed during rehearsal, was a question from you and a clipped grunt in response. there was nothing else to your relation; he played his part, and you played yours. sometimes you did this simultaneously, but it was as if you were playing two completely different things. performance, according to your friends, was now stilted. this was partially the reason you stopped listening to recorded performances. it wasn’t even like you’d ever derived pleasure from listening to them - you only nitpicked your mistakes.

your old accompanist, momo, on the other hand, was an absolute angel. she was kind, polite, and skilled on the piano, fingers dancing over the keys like a graceful ballet. you fit well with her; each performance was like a delightful conversation between friends, pleasant on the ears and twinkling with joy and laughter. with her, every performance felt like something resembling victory, even if it wasn’t a competition. to you, winning the audience’s gaze was enough.

then again, you didn't feel that you could judge quite yet. momo was your accompanist for years, and you could barely remember how the two of you sounded when you first started out. bakugou had been your accompanist for mere months (though it did feel much, much longer considering how frustrating he could be). you couldn't understand why he became your accompanist at all.

opposites. it was an accurate representation of your relationship with bakugou. he was a pianist, you weren't. he was a prodigy, you weren't. he was blessed with talent, you weren't. there was nothing to talk to him about, obviously, because of these dividing factors.

the longer you knew him, the more your disdain for the man grew. at rehearsals, it always felt like your performances were about him, him, and him. he was the star piano player, of course. he hadn't volunteered to be your accompanist as a sense of "stepping down"; no, no, rather, he was flaunting his piano playing with a violin playing in the background. he played perfectly. for a soloist.

as time passed, these frustrations with him became more and more apparent. you became acutely aware of how his performance would outshine your own, and it sickened you. slowly, the quality of your own performances took a nosedive. if the piece was originally pianissimo, you'd take it up to piano (then, if bakugou increased his volume, forte). if the tempo was andante and he was playing moderato, you'd play allegro. it was a competition at this point - instigated by him, of course. you were just upping the ante, even if it meant sacrificing your own artistry.

a lot of people warned you of what would happen, but you ignored them. the fierce competition you felt between you and bakugou caused your own downfall as a musician. slowly, gigs stopped trickling in, like a faucet being shut off. you blamed this on bakugou. ("i was international before him. now, i can barely get a gig in musutafu! why does everyone think he's so great?" you had fumed over the phone to jirou, your old roommate from university. she asked you if you had even listened to him play.)

you were scrambling for places to perform at this point. (“fire him,” the very unhelpful hagakure told you. you didn’t know what you were thinking when you asked her, a violist in a local orchestra. it wasn’t like she ever got a solo.) you’d seriously considered doing so, but came up empty when looking for another accompanist. online forums and friends’ connections could only do so much. they were all either unavailable during rehearsal schedules or inadequate in terms of adapting to the music given.

“you need to try working together with him,” jirou advised you one day over the phone.

“yeah, say that to yourself and kaminari,” you muttered bitterly under your breath. kaminari was a guitarist in jirou’s band who hadn’t quite gotten along with jirou well. jirou made fun of the lightning bolt streak in his hair. when you first met them, all they did was bicker day and night; now, according to the other guitarist, tokoyami, they still did this, though on a smaller scale.

she heard you. “well,” jirou said, slightly ticked off, “we get along better now. because of communication. look- i’m not saying you need to be best friends with bakugou or anything, but you need to talk to him about what’s working and what’s not. respect him as another musician, y’know?”

“i’ll… try,” you said begrudgingly.

you heard a muffled yell from the other side of the call. “kaminari, you idiot!” jirou called, voice a bit far. “what did i tell you about plugging in the amp? i said not to-” she cut herself off. “sorry, y/n, i need to go now. kaminari’s back to his normal antics.” she sighed, but it sounded more endeared than irritated. the call ended.

respect bakugou as another musician. you could do that. bakugou was only a pianist. you were a violinist. he was your accompanist. he was to support your playing. you’d forever be separated from him, doing your own thing. he, certainly, couldn’t understand the woes of being a violinist. not the intonation nor the techniques; you were sure that if you handed him a violin on the spot, he wouldn’t be able to even hold the bow properly. the notion of bakugou, piano prodigy, struggling to make a decent sound on the violin with a bow clenched in an ungainly grip deeply amused you.

these thoughts kept your relationship with bakugou afloat and restrained you from strangling him every time he stepped a toe out of line during rehearsals. ploddingly, with as minimal communication as you could manage, you tried to play with bakugou together, as a duet rather than as two soloists playing simultaneously. you swallowed your pride to play accurately to the music, patiently explaining any qualms you had with bakugou’s playing.

eventually, you found yourself building up your performances to the quality they had once been with momo. it was still far from the pristine playing that led you to an international invite - but it was an improvement, and that was all that mattered to you. innately, you were slightly ashamed of the thoughts that allowed you to keep working with bakugou. they were thoughts that told of your superiority to him, because he was playing piano for you. that’s all he was; an accompaniment to you. you told yourself that having these thoughts on the inside was better than fighting with bakugou.

somehow, along the strings of notes slurred together and shifts of fingers from one spot on a string to the next, you found yourself experiencing a strange joy gliding your bow against the strings of your violin. the rich sound of your instrument, withering and blooming with every stroke of vibrato you performed, fulfilled you unlike how it ever had before. up until now, you’d been playing for the audience, rather than yourself. the melody reverberating in the hollow body of your violin was never for your own ears to enjoy, it was for the audience’s satisfaction and listening pleasure. for it was their own enjoyment that won you competition after competition, playing with a blank face. on some occasions, you’d open your eyes during the applause to see some audience members crying, which ultimately confused you. how you were able to draw emotions from them with your playing when the music was unable to render you anything but indifferent?

you knew it in yourself, though, that the happiness you felt was hollow. delightful notes supposed to boast joy and love echoed in the rehearsal room, falling flat on your ears.

you were a soloist, though. you couldn’t let thoughts like these get to you. you could only play, for both your pride and your audience. these woes were for you to shoulder, on top of the violin you held between your chin and collarbone.

“you’re here early,” bakugou commented one day, opening the door to your shared rehearsal room. tucked under one arm was his folder of sheet music. he caught you in the middle of practicing one of the pieces for a gig - liebesfreud, by fritz kreisler.

it was true. the morning sun basked the window sill and laminate flooring, warming the particular spots it shone through. you’d arrived an hour or so early. pleased by the bright nature of the morning, you pulled up the blinds. typically, you ran late, arriving ten minutes after bakugou’s text of “you’re late again, idiot” with a coffee and a bagel in your hands. those mornings, you were really grateful for having a case with backpack straps. if you hadn’t the time to eat your bagel on the way to rehearsal, it was cold and hard by the time you had a lunch break.

thankfully, today was not one of those days. whether it was the sun or the title of the piece (“love’s joy,” how wonderful), you’d woken up and decided that today, you’d have a warm and soft bagel for breakfast. you had a coupon for a free coffee and surprisingly, the commute to rehearsals was more punctual than usual. thus, you arrived an hour early, a smile on your face as you opened the door. you opened your case with extra care and rosined your bow with extra zest, humming a tune you heard playing on the radio. bakugou would’ve had a heart attack had he saw you then.

you ignored his entrance, only peeping one eye open at the man and nodding your head toward the piano as you continued on with the piece. you allowed yourself to become immersed in the music, following the soft pace bakugou set in his playing. closing your eyes, you saw the audience before you and felt your fingers sliding and pressing the strings. time flew while playing the piece; you’d barely noticed that the piece was nearing its end, playing its familiar melody one last time before opening your eyes. a glance at the rosin dusted in between the bridge and fingerboard of your violin satisfied you, like salt on caramel. you surely played just as sweet, smooth and saccharine like the gooey texture of a caramel confection. you relished in the sunlight streaming through into the room, ignoring the shuffling of papers behind you (from bakugou, no doubt). that was how you should play.

“something’s off,” you blearily opened your eyes to the sound of bakugou’s gruff voice. he was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in a not atypical manner.

“what,” you said flatly. “it sounded fine to me. i didn’t mess up or anything.”

“no,” he replied, deep in thought, crimson eyes darkening a shade. “we don’t have proper… emotion in the music.”

“huh?” you felt a comical question mark rising out of your head. “i played it perfectly to score. it conveys the composer’s emotions to a t,” you said, getting annoyed with the pianist. your grip tightened on your violin’s neck.

“well- yeah,” he gritted his teeth. “but what about your emotions?”

“who cares about my emotions?” you said. “all that matters is that my playing is perfect. the audience feels the emotions, not me.” why else had you been plucked into violin lessons when you were five? surely not for your own enjoyment.

“idiot, that’s definitely not how it is.”

“it’s just violin playing!” you snapped. “it’s not complicated with- with emotions! it’s the same as anything else!”

“you’re wrong,” bakugou coldly answered.

“what would you understand?” you seethed. “you’re just a damn pianist. you follow my lead.”

he ignored your remarks. “why do you play a fucking instrument, then? why bother to enter competitions or recitals?”

“to win, like any other normal person!”

he let out a clipped, exasperated breath. “fuckin’ explains it, then.” he didn’t elaborate. dismissing the topic, he said, “whatever. play the piece from the top. actually try to look at me this time, so we can stay together. put more emphasis on the downbeat at the start.”

“it’s not like you even heard me play the beginning,” you retorted, but made sure to accent that note even more during the replay. pianists. they always were on their high horses.

something you looked forward to every year was the valentine’s recital. the organizers, an old couple, had known you since you were a child, and thus developed a soft spot for you. you were a shoo-in for the event, relied on to learn the music on a short deadline. last year, you played preludio, from bach’s partita for violin no. 3. this year, though, the catch was weird.

“the letter says it’s a violin duet?” you said to jirou while video calling her. “i don’t have a violinist on hand, just a pianist. it’s not like bakugou can suddenly master violin.”

jirou looked at you with a surprised expression. “you don’t know?”

you stared back at her. “know what?”

“he plays violin, too.”

“huh?” you must’ve misheard her.

she nodded. “he’s pretty good, too. have you not seen the videos?”

“videos?" your eyes widened as you soon realized the implications of bakugou harbouring an aptitude for violin. "i’ve… i’ve got to go.”

“he’s as good as you, y/n,” jirou said with a knowing smile. you were quick to press the hang up button.

five seconds into teenage bakugou’s rendition of one of paganini’s caprices, you exited youtube.

the next day, you kicked open the door to the practice room.

“you,” you pointed a finger at bakugou, who sat at the piano midway through a piece.

“what is it now, dumbass? you’re late again.”

“shut up,” you grumbled. “that’s beside the point. you- you play violin?!”

he shrugged, not avoiding your piercing gaze. “i’ve dabbled in it, yes.”

you shut the door behind you. “and why did you never tell me?!”

“tch. you never asked, did you?”

“you’re my accompanist, i should know these things!”

“you know i play piano, and that’s enough,” bakugou said stubbornly. “i only play piano with you.”

“not anymore.” setting your violin case down, you shuffled through the pocket that held your sheet music. flipping out a packet of sheet music, you thrust it in bakugou’s direction. “here.”

he grabbed the sheets from you, skimming the title. “duo for two violins in…. fuck,” he muttered. “why didn’t you just say no? who even is this from?”

“valentine’s recital. the pay’s good, bakugou, and we need it.”

“you need it,” he mumbled bitterly, holding the sheets out for you. “i don’t.”

“it’s not like i’m happy about it either. since when were you a violinist?”

“since when was it any of your damn business?”

"you're supposed to be my pianist! not anything else!"

you didn’t understand how he could be so musically inclined. you blinked, and your sight smeared, blurring the sight of your feet with the laminate flooring. this wasn't right, you thought as you felt a telltale heat creeping up you. why were you crying now?

if there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your violin playing. it seemed to be the only thing you were good at as a child when academics and athletics failed you. sure, you hated it at first (as most children did when their parents forced them to do something), but as time went on, the applause of the audience and the title of "winner" rewarded you enough. you were no prodigy, so you worked endlessly every day to prove yourself worthy. you never understood how you'd worked so hard only to be in the shadows of others so naturally gifted who surely would never understand how much you practiced to become better.

when it came to bakugou, he was never supposed to be better. he was your pianist, talented in a completely different musical realm than your own, so he could never be superior to you - and now he wasn't. he never was. here you were for the past year or so, looking like a fool in bakugou's eyes. on the days you struggled so hard with fourth finger vibrato, he was probably laughing at your inadequacy at violin. as easily as he played the violin, katsuki bakugou played you like a fool.

everything collided when you stepped out of the room, leaving a particular golden haired boy alone to stare at the sheet music you tossed him. your head throbbed with the groggy sensation of almost-tears and anger coursed through your veins.

you couldn't back out of the recital now. you couldn't.

you couldn't stand to look back into the vermillion eyes of katsuki bakugou now. even more so now, you couldn't.

your solution?

"hey, what's up?" jirou's collected voice filled your ear, your phone pressed to it.

"hey, kyo, i… kind of did a bad thing," you said, feeling jittery as you sought a commute home. you'd already made up your mind that your sorry-ass wouldn't be able to look bakugou back in the face for the rest of the day.

"...again?" she asked, tone concealing a hint of surprise. "don't tell me it was with bakugou. don't you usually practice now?"

"...usually, yes…" you sheepishly shuffled your feet, standing outside on the sidewalk. "i'll be resuming it again, 'course, when i get home…"

"why aren't you with bakugou right now?"

"that's… that's a long story," you laughed nervously.

"i can wait," jirou coolly replied. "kaminari got his foot stuck in his guitar case - don't ask - so i have time."

you considered asking about kaminari, then thought better of it.

"you know about the valentine's day recital they have every year? well, this year…" you recounted the events that led you to now, standing outside on the phone with jirou.

"where are you going to find a violinist?"

a silence found itself opportune as jirou waited for an answer. "i'm, uh, not…?" you said, deflecting the question back to jirou.

"well, you can't play both parts in the duet, can you? actually, don't answer that. i know you'd try. didn't you try that one time in-"

"what's done in uni stays in uni," you hushed her before she could recall that one time you tried to play a sonata with a recording of yourself. "aren't you going to tell me to try to make amends with bakugou?"

"no," she said thoughtfully after a pause. "you've tried before, and it's not working for you. i don't think you should be forced to do something you obviously don't want to do. i just think," she continued, "you need to find someone to do the duet with, if you don't want to work with bakugou. but objectively, he's your best bet."

as jirou always was, she was right. you thanked her for her advice not before hearing a distraught kaminari shouting for jirou in the background, and then she ended the call.

you repeated her words in your head once you got home, sliding your bow back and forth on your small block of worn rosin. the score for the duet was spread next to you on the floor. it wasn't that you didn't want to work with bakugou. or was it? had you been that selfish all along, sabotaging other performances because you didn't like him? if even jirou had noticed it, had bakugou noticed it too?

your sigh let out a thousand burdens piled up in your mind, blowing air out like dust accumulating on your tribulations. you picked up your violin and bow thoughtlessly, testing out the strings and plucking a couple with your left hand.

was it really only you with the contempt for working with bakugou? you'd assumed mutual hatred with him after your international debut, but had it really been so? had you been the only one picking fights during the time you'd worked together? as you backtracked, your fingers slipped into a familiar position. you began a piece you knew positively by heart, an absolute favorite of yours for years. you played mindlessly, serenading yourself with familiar notes and string fingerings as you thought long and hard about bakugou. how much shit had you given bakugou? he hardly complained, too, but why? why hadn't he quit after you'd been so ceaselessly difficult with him?

why were you so angry at bakugou, a gifted prodigy since childhood? the answer found itself as the composition descended into an array of complicated fingerings and string changes, sounding like an incoherent chaos somehow strung together by the music. you pretended you didn't know the answer.

it was much, much easier to leave bakugou as just a pianist. respectable in his own field, and incomparable to you. it was too good to be true, obviously. all your life, you played to win, and couldn't allow anyone else to surpass you. violin was about winning, winning, winning. how were you supposed to cope when all those hours of practice were easily overcome by someone with innate talent?

the piece eased your tension with a fermata, drawing out your vibrato to think. bakugou's perfection infuriated you, you concluded. knowing this, though, didn't help with anything. you almost screeched the last note as the composition came to an end, unsettled by thoughts of bakugou. you really couldn't stand him.

in an attempt to distract yourself from your dilemma, you decided to start practicing the recital composition. you pulled out an old portable music stand, bending the parts into place and stacking it up. carefully, you placed the sheets on the stand and skimmed over the music, bringing your violin up to your collarbone.

your eyes followed one measure ahead of what you were playing as you sight-read the piece. ahead, ahead, was all you could think as your fingers fumbled the notes, eyes moving from the score to the fingerboard. bakugou was far from your mind as you caught up to the music, too preoccupied with the sharps and flats you'd forgotten and the time you had to keep. you were busied by the shifts and the repeat signs in the music over anything else. your priority lay here for the time being, after all. the sight-reading was almost enough to make you forget you only play one half to a duet. there was still still an emptiness that lurked between the rests and the redundant beats that even your stilted practice couldn't mask. you tried not to worry about that, though.

time floated by as you repeated the piece over and over, playing for accuracy first. it wasn't enough, but you pretended it was. the metronome on your phone ticked away like time, endless and impatient, until you couldn't stand it anymore and packed away your violin.

the proceeding day was filled with more of the same practicing, working on tweaking hesitations and polishing up your playing. it was kind of convenient, practicing at home rather than waking up early to practice with bakugou. you missed the bagel the most.

you were definitely not playing your best, and it was clear by the way your bow occasionally screeched and how you fumbled the fingerings when you were particularly negligent. the piece just didn't sound right without the second part. (bakugou was definitely not the second part missing. not at all.)

by the third day you gave up and admitted to yourself that yes, bakugou was the second part missing. you were only a little bit miserable buying your usual bagel and coffee and rushing to rehearsals fifteen minutes late, aware that you'd be unable to eat it before practice. you were substantially less miserable than how you were the day previous, practicing alone.

you weren't surprised to see bakugou already there, sitting on the piano bench and tightening his bow hairs. he acknowledged you with a grunt as you set down your breakfast and beverage.

"showed up, huh?" he said finally, voice rough. he stood up, setting his sheet music on a stand. you stared at him, awed by his nonchalance. he picked up his violin and bow (which, by the way, looked super expensive) and propped his violin up by his chin. it felt so foreign to see him in position to play violin, fingers already expertly in first position and wrist beautifully curved, yet it inexplicably clicked. the scene in front of you looked like he'd done this everyday, as it was always supposed to have been, his back confidently straight. his fingers arched over the fingerboard and his bow appeared mathematically parallel to the bridge, held delicately between his fingers. you'd never carefully watched him play piano (probably due to your distaste to him and lack of knowledge about the percussion instrument), but he made the violin look like an instrument of the gods. he hesitated, though, bow moving a centimeter then back. he frowned at your idle silence and turned back to you. "well? are we doing this duet or not?"

"oh," you reacted intelligently. "yeah. yeah." it kicked in what you were doing by the time you'd started tuning your violin, first bowing your a string. after tuning your violin (with the help of a tuning fork and none from the perfect-pitched bastard bakugou, who appeared to be watching you with a triumphant gleam in his eyes as you struggled to tune your violin properly), you set your sheet music next to bakugou's.

"ready?" you asked, as if you'd been the one waiting for bakugou all this time.

"ask yourself that," he snorted. "i'll do the count."

you nodded.

"one, two, three, f-"

"wait, wait," you said, squinting at your music. "isn't it supposed to be a bit slower than that?"

"it says allegro," bakugou said, tapping his foot. "need an italian lesson? lively, briskly."

"i know what allegro means," you gritted. "seems too fast, when paired with dolce."

"maybe for you," he smirked.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "and that means what, exactly?"

he opened his mouth to reply some smug, smart-ass answer, but you stopped him.

"nevermind," you said. "do the count again, at the same tempo. i can do it."

you were bluffing, of course. since when was allegro this fast? you wondered as the opening notes sped by you in a musical blur. already familiar with the melody, you messed up dynamics the most. of crescendos and diminuendos? it wasn't like bakugou would notice, too preoccupied with his part.

the ending of the piece took your breath away, storming toward you in a whirlwind. adrenaline filled your veins as you raced to the last measure of the music, overcome by the tempo and the music. this time, full of energy and exhilaration, the piece felt complete. your and bakugou's sound surrounded the two of you, overflowing the room with a saccharine melody. it felt right simply standing beside him playing a two part piece, chest heaving from the piece's energy. you could only hear your breathing, a gentle encore to your playing.

"your playing is sloppy," bakugou said bluntly. he leaned over to your sheet music, starting to point at dynamic markings.

you swatted his hand away before he could say a word. "yeah, well, i just got the music three days ago," you interjected.

"you also had two of the three days off, so i'd say you're not doing enough." he glanced back down at your score. he pointed at a measure. "this is a crescendo, moron, why didn't you get much louder?"

"just- pay attention to your own music!" you said. "besides, it's dolce. i can get away with playing softer."

"that wasn't very dolce to me," he argued. "nothing sweet, soft, or gentle about that," he mumbled.

"i can be sweet, soft, and gentle if i want to!" you retorted.

he raised a brow, as if a challenge, scarlet eyes glinting in the light. "tch. i'm sure you can, but your playing damn can't."

“it can, too! listen,” you said, impetuously raising your violin and bow again. you slowly started to play a d major scale, impatiently scrunching your nose and squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate on making the music soft and gentle, tampering with different degrees of vibrato and bow pressure.

“... that’s just piano,” bakugou said, moving to you as you bowed an a. your bow came to an abrupt halt, making an unpleasant squeal, as bakugou positioned himself behind you. you felt his body warmth radiating behind you as a sweet, homely scent wafted around you. he brought his arms around you, hands overlapping where you held your violin and bow.

“you need to be,” he murmured into your ear, gentle tone almost slurring the words together, "fragile when you play dolce." he angled your bow slightly, moving your hand. "bow closer to the fingerboard." the smooth baritone of his voice resonated within you, becoming lost within the violinist's embrace.

"most of all," he said, dropping an octave to an intimate tone, "you need to feel it. you can attempt to play it, but without feeling, it's fuckin’ meaningless."

"feeling?" you repeated blankly. “the audience’s, you mean.”

he stepped away, a gesture that made you breathless, and shook his head. he crossed his arms over his chest, unintentionally accentuating their volume. “your damn feelings. what do you feel when playing the piece?”

there’s a pause for perhaps a second too long, as you mulled over different answers in your head.

“tch.” his eyes don’t leave you, gaze a laser burning into you. “‘s what i thought. why do you play violin?”

you held your tongue from answering my parents. “to win. i play to win,” you stated.

“and that’s the damn problem,” bakugou said, releasing a breath of frustrated air. “you win to play.”

“that means…?” you were starting to get impatient with the man, who seemed to be stalling and dragging out your limited time.

“you win competitions to play more.”

you almost scoffed, but his words were plausible. “what’s the purpose in playing more if not to win?”

he made a scratching noise in his throat, cool demeanor shifting to that of the bakugou you knew. “l-l-” he coughed, “love.”

“love?” you repeated, the word a surprise to swallow.

he nodded, gagging on his reply. you couldn’t see bakugou as the romantic type - the same bakugou who called all of his friends demeaning nicknames and could barely say the word love out loud. he was explosive, maybe, and talented, sure - but acquainted with love? you pursed your lips at the stuttering man trying to advise you.

“whatever,” he dismissed, voice oddly hoarse. “just play it from the top. fix the dynamics.”

weeks passed in a blur, though bakugou’s advice was left unforgotten. it had, for the most part, faded from your mind but lingered like a ghost in an abandoned attic, stirring up dust in complete silence. it was valid criticism on bakugou’s part, but the problem was that it was criticism you couldn’t digest. it was a ghost that you could not rid of, whispering and lurking until your music played over it.

four weeks before the performance, you had the piece almost entirely memorized other than a few flukes here and there. you managed most of your dynamics, playing in sync with bakugou by your side. three weeks and the piece was mostly smooth, foregoing all sheet music and practicing in the middle of the room with bakugou tapping out the tempo on the honeyed floor. any mistakes were recovered from quickly, and you were pleased to say that the amount of bakugou’s slip-ups equated to yours. at two weeks, though, he brought up the pest bugging your mind.

“play with more emotion,” he sighed exasperatedly, letting out a huff as you played for him. “start on f sharp again.”

you’d tried time and time again, but the longer you’d replayed the same few measures (followed by his criticism for the nth time), the only emotion you felt was frustration. your bow would push too hard or your vibrato would lay on thick, immensely irritating bakugou. you didn’t know why he even tried.

the air felt stale and the lights shone obnoxiously bright. the pads of your left hand fingers had hardened by now, indented with a pair of parallel lines from your unforgiving violin strings. you inhaled rosin dust and occasional bow hairs miserably dropped to the floor. your arms were tired, sore, and sick of playing; your ears painfully endured the same tune again and again, the originally fluid and sweet notes becoming high frequency static.

“i can’t do this.” you were tempted to flop onto the ground, hopelessness pouring over you.

“you can,” bakugou insisted stubbornly. “you just need to try harder.”

“harder?” you would’ve snapped (and you were surprised your e string didn’t already by the repetitive motions on it) if you weren’t so exhausted from rehearsing.

he nodded like it was obvious. “try harder.”

you shakily inhaled, trying to smooth your voice over. “i’m sorry i can’t be a prodigy like you.”

he stiffened, tense to the point of trembling. “whatever,” and it was a strained word pulled from his mouth. it was very atypical for him to give up like this, but you didn't care. you avoided his eyes as you restarted the piece, unable to bloom anything from it.

outside of your rehearsal time, you practiced. arguably, your solo rehearsals were more rigorous. you forced yourself to add emotion to the piece, sometimes playing for jirou. she agreed with bakugou (though was a great deal less irritating), stating that your playing was somewhat hollow. (you restrained yourself from knocking on the instrument and saying that yes, indeed, violins were hollow.)

"how… how do you get any emotions from playing?" you asked jirou at one point, watching one of her band's rehearsals. they were on a break, chatting idly and taking sips from their water bottles.

“well…” jirou started, glancing back at her band members. “i think about the feelings i want the audience to feel because of my songs. i think about how the song makes me feel, then i put that into how i play.”

“how do you…” you shifted uncomfortably, “know what to feel?”

she looked at you, taken aback, but replied easily. “you don’t. it just… happens.”

her response was vastly different than what you’d been taught a child. emotions? sure, there was perhaps a time where playing evoked a feeling in you, plucked something melodical from your heartstrings. it was when you were a child, though, so it was irrational and erratic, an outburst in the middle of your otherwise level playing. your violin teacher didn’t approve when you’d follow how the music made you feel. she said it made you stray too far from the original piece and would make you lose competitions. no matter how you pushed back against her, her advice haunted you over and over every time you got anything other than first place.

your performance is the audience, she’d told you. you didn’t understand what she meant at first, but she made sure you did while practicing for your next rehearsals. the audience, she quipped with thin lips under her sharp eyes, is everything. if the audience wasn’t satisfied, your performance was worthless, no matter how well you played technically. you play for them and you win - it was that plain. there was nothing more than you wanted but to win, at the time. you wanted a trophy, a medal, a certificate stating that you were better than most. it was palpable evidence that you were good enough - for your parents, your peers, anyone. like that, you practiced, a servant for approval. you weren’t a prodigy, but you sure as hell would try to play like one. her advice worked for over a decade, soundly racking you up with countless awards that filled your otherwise desolate self-esteem.

you didn’t say anything else to jirou about it, instead thinking about the bits and pieces of human feeling you could extract in between your piece’s accidentals and eighth notes. perhaps there was a possibility, through the phrases of notes and dynamic markings, you’d find a word that said love. a renewed interest sparked itself when jirou’s band continued their rehearsals, finding yourself to be a normal audience member (maybe even crying at the end. maybe).

you returned home to practice, practice, practice, coercing any hidden message in the music to vibrate in your violin and echo around your room. you watched other renditions of the piece to find something you were missing, but imitating them didn’t seem right. this continued for the following weeks, hiding any potential development from bakugou (or trying to, at least). you knew you’d be disappointing him if you failed after trying so hard. it was only safe to play what you knew, secure in the written parts of the composition and keeping it at that.

by the time the performance came around, you were glad bakugou never found out about your secret efforts. if he had, you knew he’d be sorely dispirited by your lack of tangible progress, your sound just as hollow as the soundbox of your violin. you failed, you knew, and as crestfallen as you were on that cold february morning, the show must go on.

the performances were held in an auditorium, warm compared to the snowy wonderland outside. it was typically couples comprising the audience, all romantic and pepped up in the spirit of valentine's day (white day was no different). some arrived early, finding seats in the empty auditorium and chatting amongst themselves (or sometimes making out, which made you want to throw your violin at them and gag). bakugou’s and your performance was last; it quite the heavy honor to play the finale to the recital.

backstage was a vast contrast to the hushed atmosphere settled over the assemblage. hovering over the staff and performers for the day was a sense of panic, hurry, and hecticness. bits of rosin were scattered on the ground where you prepared for your rehearsal, some belonging to your block and others not. your pack of extra strings lay next to you on the sofa you sat on, arm resting on the side of the seat. similar to your violin's strings, spun tightly over pegs to be kept in place, you felt high-strung. the buzz of energetic excitement flitted in your head, knee bumping up and down and jerking your violin in the same motion. it was hard to calm when you tuned your violin to absolute perfection, relying on bakugou's perfect pitch to do so. the fine tuners on the end of your strings probably hadn't had a harder time in the years you'd owned your violin.

"you're shaking the entire sofa, idiot," bakugou deadpanned next to you. “some of us are trying to rosin our bow, unlike you.” he glanced at the floor, where amber shards of rosin lay amidst white dust (also made of rosin).

“to be fair, most of those aren’t mine,” you pointed out. you reached into your violin case, finding the rectangular case of rosin and opening the top. "mine's only chipped in a couple corners, and the rest is just worn on the edges from my bow."

you leaned over to look at bakugou's rosin, two stubs in its case. "and i'm the one dropping my rosin?"

his ears turned a deep red, matching the velvet curtains on stage. "that's different," he muttered, putting the lid on his rosin and putting it away.

"you ready?" you watched him swallow before speaking, not looking at you. you could hear one of the presenters speaking, introducing the first piece to be played (an ever-so romantic rendition of clair de lune), but the voices felt distant and muffled over the sound of your own nervous heart beating.

"yeah," he replied. he turned to look at you, scarlet eyes meeting your own. "what, you're not scared now, are you, dumbass?"

you gulped. "no… just excited," you said. in truth, you felt disappointed in yourself for being unable to find any emotion in your playing - thinking about the piece, you were devoid of anything but the measures and the notes. what was the piece trying to say in the white space between staff lines? after the clef at the beginning of the music, where did the emotions start and everything else end?

quiet notes, twinkling from the piano on stage, met your ears. you took a deep breath. how did they make you feel?

…not very good, because this pianist was certainly a beat or two off tempo. a large hand on your knee startled you out of your trance. its warmth was surprisingly comforting. you followed the arm connecting to the hand to meet bakugou's concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched.

"don't shake your knee like that. also, why are you so damn cold?" he moved his hand away, leaving an imprint of heat on your knee. you hadn't noticed the physical manifestation of your nerves prior to bakugou's words.

you left his question unanswered, staring at your violin in your lap. you traced the patterns in wood, fingers following the shape of the f-hole and thumbing circles on your chin rest. how were you supposed to be able to pull living, breathing life in the form of emotions from an inanimate object? what sorcery were you supposed to manage to satisfy yourself and the audience?

you thought back to bakugou's words. what was it had he said you were supposed to be playing for? love, the irrational and sentimental flaw of life - somehow expressed from the symbols on a sheet of paper and through strings on hollow wood. what sort of miracle was bakugou creating with his music?

what was violin, if not just a task to do everyday? what was it, out of competitions and tests of skill? what was the sound reverberating within its vacant body, recording every shift of fingers on the fingerboard?

you looked past your violin to the rosin on the floor. friction, your violin teacher had explained to you. you put rosin on your bow so it creates friction with the strings, and thus creates sound. it was strange how friction caused the smooth sound of a violin. too much friction, added by pressure on the bow, made a creaky sound on the strings. without rosin, the bow would be too smooth on the string and make no noise at all. the happy medium of not too much and not too little created the familiar rich tone on the strings.

a happy medium, you mused. in between too much friction and none at all. maybe that was how you were supposed to feel, in between trying too hard and not trying at all. that's what feelings were in the end, right? a natural human instinct, spurred by life. could you breathe life into the music?

the stage seemed almost too big for the two of you, spotlights centering you on the wide, wooden platform. the crowd's eyes were on you and your fellow violinist, some watching with drooping eyelids. they felt far, distant under the shadows. even so, the question still besieged you - would you please them?

you teared your eyes away to bakugou, who started the count. everything was silent until he nodded to you, your cue to start the piece. it felt too fast when you began but it was the same allegro you’d been practicing with. muscle memory took control now, your fingers finding their places easily.

your fingers and bow took all your attention. everything else fell away - the lights, the crowd, the stage - until it was just you, your violin, and the music. you could practically see the score in your head, playing the notes you'd come to know so well.

you heard your music echo and resound off the walls, but that's all it seemed to do. it touched everyone in the room, looking for a place to stay, and diminished in an empty space alone. it frustrated you that it wouldn't resonate - where was the love bakugou had so told you of? this auditorium was no different than your room, where sounds bounced off walls and landed nowhere. you weren't reaching anywhere or anyone, lacking emotion and any true substance.

love - what was love if not a hindrance? how could bakugou expect so much out of you? love - had you ever felt it for the violin? dolce told you to play sweetly, softly, and gently, but what was sweet about the violin? what was so sweet about the imprints of strings on your fingers, fragmented rosin at your feet, and bruises on your neck from long hours of practice? what was gentle about the arduous replaying of the same measure, the ringing in your ears after playing to master a simple phrase? what was soft about the forte that rang in your head, the fortissimo that filled a performance and clouded your senses?

dolce filled you like an epiphany, euphoric in your eyes that finally opened and awakened. dolce was in bakugou's eyes, soft velvet like the crimson curtains onstage, downcast at his violin. dolce was in his sound as his bow skittered near the fingerboard, in his fingers sliding back and forth on his a string. dolce was in his grasp of his bow and violin, in the very essence he played the violin with. dolce contradicted everything you knew, reminding you of bakugou's soft hands over yours, guiding your fingers and bow. dolce was the morning light streaming into the practice room as you argued with bakugou over tempos and notes, the light glinting on shattered shards of rosin as you anxiously rosined your bow. dolce was the curve of your violin scroll, the bend of your fingers over your bow's frog. dolce was the white space in between staff lines on your sheet music and through half and whole notes. dolce was everything in between the rough of your violin experience, the laughter and smiling gone forgotten during sleepless practice sessions and violin evaluations.

what was dolce, if not a rebellion? what was it, if not a rebellion from the years of work and pain you'd endured in the name of musicality? what was it, if not laughing in the face of your violin instructors and the strict score you adhered to?

when you opened your eyes to meet bakugou's, whose carmine eyes dripped with a burning passion and the essence of souls, you finally felt. it was the so-sought over love, scorching every note and stroke of your bow and bursting life in every movement, breath, and echo of your performance. it was exhilarating, living through every slur and chord you played. when you finally met his eyes he understood, a satisfied smile tugging on his lips as his gaze never left yours. this was it - this was dolce, humming sweetly, softly, and gently in your ears and reflecting in the audience's heart. this was dolce, making you realize that you never wanted to play violin alone again.

you picked up a rose that had landed at your feet at the end of your piece, holding it next to bakugou's confused face. in doing so, you reached your second epiphany of the day - perhaps the more important of the two. bakugou's eyes bloomed redder than the rose, deeper than the lowest note on a double bass, and maybe it was he that was the true dolce you were looking for.

notes!!

if you’re reading this, congrats !! this is my longest fic on my account (the record will be broken soon), so i really appreciate you reading this :> (spare a reblog, perhaps?)

first, explaining the playlist:

beethoven’s kreutzer - this was played in the anime, “your lie in april,” and i simply think it fits the “fight” reader and bakugou have. this was played at reader’s first international recital that did not go so well.

kreisler’s liebesfreud (love’s joy) is in the same series as his piece called liebesleid (love’s sorrow), also featured in “your lie in april.” i personally really like the piece. of all of these listed, i think you should listen to this one the most.

beriot’s duo concertante was the other contender for reader and bakugou’s duet piece!

debussy’s clair de lune is simply a favorite of mine. it’s the first piece played at the valentine’s performance (and i like to imagine reader’s listened to bakugou’s recording of the piece)

spohr’s duo for 2 violins is the piece reader and bakugou play! it’s the second part of the duo in allegro, and i once tried to listen to it while following the sheet music. i was so confused every time i did so; i’d get lost and such, and figured my musicality was declining. nope. i was reading the wrong part. so, i started freaking out because oh god the dolce is in the first part, not the second, and thankfully, there’s a bit of dolce in the second part too! however, it did take me a while to decide whether to use the first part instead.

also, spohr invented the chinrest on the violin! crazy :D

paginini’s 24th caprice is considered the hardest out of all 24 caprices. imagine,,, teenage bakugou playing this,,, doing the left hand pizz and all T^T pain

there’s a lot i wish i could cover in this! a lot of reader’s own flaws (ahem, viola jokes) and development were something i couldn’t cover. bakugou’s arc as well! he had an arc a bit before this story takes place :)) tl;dr i’m very tempted to pick my violin up again and start playing

the frog of the bow does not, sadly, go ribbit. it’s the part violinists hold the bow by!

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this :)

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #luna's writing #violinist bakugou

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hinatas-sunshine · 4 years

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Request: can i request a little something with izuku and shouto with a shy artist s/o? 👉👈 - @beanst0ck

Genre: Fluff

A/N for Requester: Omg thank you for requesting - ilysm and I hope you’re having a good day! She’s an amazing writer too so check out her work!

A/N: THIS KINDA SUCKS IM SO SORRY FISHCOWNFOWNFIWJ! Requests are open! Have a good day! KITHES ❤️

Izuku:

• You two have been dating for only a few months now

• He loves watching you draw it DOESNT MATTER what it is

• You love drawing people, so when he sees sketches of himself he blushes as red as a tomato

• Your other classmates try to get you to draw them for sure!

Denki: Y/n paint me like one of your French girls 🥺🙈👉🏽👈🏽

• Iida scolded him for Deku for sure

• He LOVES going to supply stores with you when you splurge on yourself buying all the coolest art utensils

• You’re really creative so when you have an art project you want to try he’s automatically going to the nearest store with you to buy everything

• If you two decided to paint something he’s always trying to paint something for you

• YUP you got a whole wall of Deku’s toddler looking amazing paintings it’s the thought that counts

• You don’t let ANYONE touch your art supplies but him

Bakugo: oh here’s a blue colored pencil-

Y/n: *rips it out of his hands glaring at him and hands it to Deku*

Deku: Oh! Cool a blue pencil ☺️

Bakugo: OI WHAT THE HE-

• You gave Deku a large painting of him and all night for his room

• He cried like a baby so did all might but we ain’t ready for that convo

• Sometimes when you’re painting you spend hours on end painting and frantically mixing colors - and you forget to eat

• When Deku notices he buys you your favorite takeout and leaves it in your room while you’re trying out different shades of whatever color with your headphones shoved in

• When you smell the food you look around and see neatly wrapped up and a water bottle next to it

• All in all, he supports your passion for art, He’s the cutest

Todoroki:

• HOLY CRAP HE LOOKS SO HOT IN THAT GIF K ANYWAYS ONTO THE HEADCANON

• You LOVEEE painting, and you have since you and Todoroki were kids

• You were often finger painting while he was next to you watching - he refused to get his hands dirty

• He would join you though when you had a coloring book, he colored one side and you colored the other

• As You grew Older You loved painting, shading with colored pencils, drawing with pens, pro-create EVERYTHING

• He loves buying you gifts and what better way to spend daddy Endeavors money than buying you the best art supplies 😘

• When he found sketches of him you did during the Sports Festival he got shy, homeboy didn’t know what to do knowing you drew him

Y/n: It’s because you’re so pretty Shouto 🥺

Todoroki: No ❤️

• He refuses to believe you love drawing him

• He doesn’t really like doing arts and crafts but if it’s for something you want, like a cute painting with your hand prints he’ll do it for you

• When you go out and he’s not training/isn’t busy he definitely sharpens your pencils, organizes your art supplies, and cleans you brushes/your paint water for you

• When you throw yourself into a piece of art and work for a long time he physically drags you out of your room

Y/n: No! I have to finish it I was almost done

Todoroki: You weren’t, You weren’t even half way

• He knows your art habits inside and out so you can’t fool the boy you definitely can but you would rather not

• He also gets a tad bit sad when you focus more on your art rather than him, and you notice because he sits on your bed pouting

• He’s watched a few Bob Ross tutorials because he’s a man of culture he wants to learn some basic painting techniques so he could join you in painting :’)

• He just loves doing the little things for you and definitely loves seeing your happiness when he does said little things 🥺

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gnar-slabdash · 3 years

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01.01: The Nigerian Job - Nate

Okay so the deal is I could NOT get my comments on this episode down to a single post so I’m going to make a post for each character. We’re gonna start with bae and you are forewarned that it is gonna be a lot of swooning. But before we get to the swooning, I have some QUESTIONS:

1. What was happening before the first scene? a) Was he actually going to be on a plane? Where to? Where from? Why is he in a hotel? b) Why also is he pouring one alcohol into another alcohol, I mean I love it, but why? He’s at a bar he could just ask them to put two alcohols together, its literally their job.

2. I wanna know what’s up with how impatient he is after the first job while the files are uploading, after being very cool and very invested so far. Conscience catching up? Exhausted and too long without a drink? I don’t know but I love how awful he looks all hunched over and anxious to get back to his bed and his bottle. Also I can just feel the early morning up too late sniffly cold in this scene it’s so well shot.

3. Anybody know enough about guns to tell me if the safety was really on?

4. When they’re in the hospital, all of a sudden Nate is out of the cuffs and eliot isn’t? Did I MISS a shot or did he just DO that casually offscreen? Because that would be incredibly awesome.

5. I know this is just for the dramatic irony later on, but it bothers me so much that supposedly “everybody knows” the deets about Sam and IYS . . . . . EXCEPT, as we later find out, M A G G I E????? HOW????? I understand the WHY, but not the HOW, if literally everyone else knows, from friends at work to every art thief in the world.

6. I know it makes sense logistically since he’s usually doing the behind the scenes stuff so he’s usually available when they need a quick getaway, but on a “let’s not die” level, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy do they always let Nate be the getaway driver holy crap we literally KNOW he drinks and drives.

7. Is anyone else always bothered that in the last scene, in the middle of everything that is so perfect about it, he’s sitting in a chair that looks just slightly too big for him?

Okay, that’s all my Questions, now it’s time for Things That Are Amazing And Sexy:

- Nate being a jackass

- that dark button up over white undershirt -- who was it that pointed out how it imitates priest’s vestments? Whoever you are you’re a genius and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

- how fast he transitions from “punch you in the neck” to just a totally reasonable analysis of the situation once he gets interested.

- that their HQ tech in this episode is a fucking projecter and call center headset, in contrast to what they have once they find out just how goo Hardison is.

- the stubble, hi yes can I get more stubble forever.

- that amidst his vast array of knowledge Nate also has knowledge like “it’s the playoffs.” Idk, I don’t like sports at all but for some reason I like that there’s part of him that’s a normal enough dude to like sports.

- oh no he does the steepled fingers thing thanks I didn’t need my underwear anyway.

- my favorite, the morning after shot: totally bare hotel room, three empty hotel liquor bottles, still dressed and on top of the covers, and that’s it, like, you can just see how completely exhausted he was and how nice it was to be able to come in and drink those and just pass out immediately. And then Dubinich has to go and ruin everything by yelling at the poor hungover sleepy boy.

- the fact that Nate suggests GOING TO DUBINICH’S OFFICE, he must REALLY have not been awake yet, can you imagine Nate showing up at Dubenich’s nice clean office looking the way he looks in this scene to “straighten out” their CRIME DEAL it’s such a good picture.

- Obviously Eliot could have taken Hardison’s gun in some super smooth way but instead Nate just fucking yoinks it like “You have got to be kidding me, you’re gonna shoot your eye out.”

- there’s such great character hints in how they all hold the guns, Nate straight and matter of fact not trying to prove anything but knows what he’s doing, Hardison fancy and useless, Parker looks like she COULD use it but that’s not her main goal her main goal is to be cool and craaaazy

- and then Nate has like a fuckin velociraptor moment with his crazy daughter to get her to put the gun down lmao

- Swooshy cooooooat! - Nate opening the garage door, making sure they get out safe before him -- he feels responsible, he’s playing dad even as he tries to separate himself from them -- he owes them nothing really and he’s still taking charge and risking himself to save them. @ everyone who says nate doesn’t have actual caring emotions, that’s some bullshit.

- god his eyes are pretty

- his reactions in the hospital, first waking up to instant panic, then just moving straight to “well fuck it’s just one thing after another huh.” Look how awful he looks and he’s still immediately seeing what they don’t and pulling their strengths together, this is a much better example of what he’s capable of than the dumb lines in the beginning that were supposed to tell us he was smart.

- the beautiful ultimate irony that Dubinich’s fake story not only got the crew together but also gave them their whole modus operandus, they just take the lie he gave them of stealing things to help people and then they actually do it.

- I’m never, ever gonna get over the fuckin “balls tied to the stock market” line

- Nate smashing the car windows. So hot. Also MAN that must be therapeutic, lmao he looks so satisfied at the end

#leverage liveblog #let's go steal a liveblog #the nigerian job #nate ford #leverage

29 notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 4 years

Text

Destiel Fic Recs (An extensive rec list of almost every single Destiel fic I‘ve ever read.)

NOTE

- This is a masterlist of all of my fic recs. They include AUs, SPN universe, codas, ficlets, schoolfics, and more!

- Works marked with (*) denote my absolute favorites.

-This rec list is all Destiel (I'm a clown 🤡, sue me.) If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

-Yes, many of these works are NSFW, but usually said scenes can be skipped without losing important plot info.

-This list will be updated whenever I find a good fic, though probably not regularly if I'm honest. (Life happens...)

-I DO NOT own any of the work found on this list, nor do I claim it to be my own; I am simply making this so that others can enjoy these fics as well.

-Please do not hate on anyone or anything. If you don't like Destiel, then don't read the fics. If you hate the author, don't tell me because I don't care about that drama. (Walk AwaaAYyaYAaa)

1. Twist and Shout****** by @gabriel and @standbyme Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts- I'm sure that there is nothing I can say that you haven't already heard. Just read it. Suffer along with the rest of us. There's fluff, smut, angst (the holy trinity.) This is truly the best fan fic ever written. Period. 20/10.

2. 300 Things by @cautionzombies. (I can't find the original source so you'll have to try and find it on your own...)

Thoughts- What's a Supernatural rec list without 300 Things? This really is an amazing fic and it is written so well!

3. How A Righteous Man Raises A Rose by @swordofmymouth- Live Journal.

Thoughts- This fic really took me by surprise. It's tagged as an AU, but I think you'll find that it's not at all what you think. The author effortlessly sets a mood of loss and regret, yet still gives the light a chance to shine through. I went into this fic thinking it to be an AU, and it was at first. But I soon realized that there was much more to this fic than what at first meets the eye. I shed a few tears over this one.

4. Cleanse the Mirror* by @takadainmate -Live Journal.

Thoughts- Man, this one hurts, but in the best way. I read this fic a long time ago but lost it and couldn't find it for a long time. I am so glad that I found it and was able to re read. Just as enjoyable (if not more so) the second time. Dean gets a better understanding of what it's like being an angel. (And Cas is written so well in this fic! He's just like he is in the show. It's incredible!)

5. A Hole in the World by @bauble - Live Journal.

Thoughts- This one just hurts and hurts and hurts. This is one that you'll just have to read and see for yourself. No happy ending. (You've been warned.)

6. In the Shadow of Your Wings by @EnochianThings - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a really well written fic. There were several times that I almost forgot that I was reading a fan fic because the characters and story are just so well though out. It's a bit of a long one and is set in a (sort of) canon!verse.

7. My Throat is An Open Grave* by @inkandpaperqwerty - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This was one of the first fan fics that I ever read for Supernatural. This one is just so heartwarming, but not before plenty of angst and hurt/comfort. The author seamlessly puts Sam and Dean into a heartbreaking AU and it's all about the love that Sam and Dean have for each other. (NOT Wincest.)

8. Thursday's Child* by @strangeandcharm - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- All I can say is... Ow. Slow burn to end all slow burns, but so worth it in the end. This one is set in the End!verse (which I'm a total sucker for.) Dean and Cas are just so sad and I just want to hug them and make it all better. Imagine, Future!Dean's plan to kill Lucifer!Sam works and now he has to live with the fact that he killed his own brother, devil or not. And Cas has to come to terms with the fact that he survived the epic showdown, despite his belief that he wouldn't, and now has an addiction that he has to get under control. I love this fic and it really is a painfully slow read, but more than worth it in the end.

9. Après by @imogenbynight - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Dean and Cas go to Paris... Need I say more? I love this fic because it addresses the crappy way that Dean always has Cas coming to him and how Dean needs to step up and realize the sacrifices Cas has made for him (shameless bias opinion... Sorry) All us Cas stans will really appreciate this one. Written well, characterization flawless... What else can you ask for?

10. Dean's Days Off* by @MittenWraith - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is just the sweetest, fluffiest fic you could ever ask for. Reading it made me want to fall in love so badly it hurt. Cas and Dean just get some well deserved rest and quiet. I am absolutely in love with this fic and I'll read it over and over again. (Especially if I've had a bad day and need some happiness)

11. Unlit, Unmarked, and Forgotten by @awed_frog -

Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a beautiful coda for 11x17. There's some Destiel if you squint. It's very sad but somehow manages a happy ending that renews your hope and brings a soft smile to your face.

12. Down Like Water by @museaway - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I really like this fic a lot. It is very sad with a lot of Hurt!Castiel but it does actually have a happy ending. Just grit your teeth and bare through the angst and sadness to make it to the beautifully sappy ending.

13. Till Kingdom Come* by @freckles_n_feathers - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This is a season 11 AU that was written before season 11 aired (the author actually somehow predicted things that were going to happen before they aired!!) This fic gave me really high hopes for season 11 that weren't quite fulfilled. I loved season 11, don't get me wrong (it's actually one of my favorite seasons) this fic was just so perfect and I wanted it to be canon so badly. (I re wrote this review like four times because I kept saying "actually" lol)

14. 12x19 Destiel Ficlet by @Samanstiel - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This was written before 12x19 aired, and if you were upset with how things went down then this is the fic for you. The characters are written so well and it really feels like an actual episode.

15. Contrapasso*** by @takadainmate - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This might be the best fic ever (trumped only by Twist and Shout...) Inspired by Dantes Inferno and so beautifully written! I just... There aren't words. It's very dark, and the ending was not at all what I wanted (but after much thought, I realized that there couldn't have been a better ending.) I really got lost in this fic. I could see exactly what the author described, I could feel what the characters felt. This is true art... This is the fic we've all been looking for.

16. Put Up Your Dukes by @takadainmate - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This fic is by one of my favorite authors (who has featured on this rec list before...) Hilariously dirty. Dean and Cas are bone heads who can't make up there minds. Human!Cas is also a little sh*t and I'm living for it. There's some smutty times in this one... (which can easily be skipped if you're not comfortable without losing any important points of the story. {at least I didn't feel like I missed anything})

17. Then I Defy You Stars* by @speary - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - So many tears were shed while I read this. The plot is just so amazing and a plot twist to end all plot twists at the end. It's full of sacrifice and love and angst and bittersweet moments. I love this fic (and I promise you will too.)

18. All the Nights by @NorthernSparrow - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This takes place after 15x03 episode "Golden Time". A bit of a fix it fic, but canon compliant to a point. I really love this fic (I love anything written by NorthernSparrow). Also a case!fic, which I'm always a softie for. Some big questions that I have since season 15 are addressed in this fic, and I absolutely love the way they are answered.

19. A Winter's Tale* by @NorthernSparrow - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Oh my gosh. So much Hurt!Castiel. There isn't outright Destiel but there is heavy DeanCas relations. This is a season 9 re write and it just hurts so much. If you can make it through all the pain, the happy ending makes it all worth it. Human!Cas just deserves so much better... Ahh! It's just so sad and perfect and awesome.

20. Give All My Secrets Away by @morganoconner - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This is a sweet little fic. Not particularly long, but oh so meaningful. Dean gets cursed and his soul is pushed from his body, leaving him vulnerable and scared (the author portrays the human soul in a very interesting way). Cas looks after him and it's just so fluffy.

21. Plot Holes* by @saltyfeathers - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Holy crap! This fic took me a whole week to finish and I enjoyed every minute of it! Every chance I got I would pull my phone out and read. I was rudely interrupted many many times so I just decided to finish it at night and stayed up until 2AM on a school night. (oops?) It's soooo well written and feels like an actual season of Supernatural. 12/10 all the way.

22. Someone Who's Feeling For Me by @ellispark - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Here's a fic to kick you right in the feels. I actually really genuinely enjoyed reading this fic because of how well the characters are written! Dean, Sam, and Cas run into Lisa Braeden post her mind wipe in season 6 and it brings up a whole bunch of drama for our boys. (While also helping Dean realize that she was never really the person he wanted to be with 😉) A bit of light smut and a bit of angst but definitely worth a read.

23. Chalk and Chainmail by @angelwingsandthings - Wattpad.

Thoughts : Oh this one is so good... It's very angsty at times and Dean is a lovable dork who can't win no matter what he does and Cas is just a confused little assbutt who doesn't know what to do with himself. (So he's himself if we're being perfectly honest here 😂) There's some light smut but nothing too graphic. This one is a Highschool!AU, so prepare yourself for the delightful drama that comes along with teenage hormones. (And Charlie is a total QUEEN and I'm living for it. I love her so much.)

24. Remember When * by @VioletHaze - Archive of Our Own

Thoughts: Sooo... I've been on a bit of a School!fic kick recently. (Not a little bit. Like a lot a bit thb) This one is just so god da*n perfect (scuse my French) Dean and Cas have been best friends since fifth grade; they do everything together. Then some crap happens and they get in a huge fight junior year. Years later, they finally make it back to each other. (*Cries in fangirl*) Warning, it's sad, it hurts like heck. But there's also so many perfect moments. I promise you won't regret reading it. (And once again Charlie is a total queen and I would give my life for her. She deserves so much better... {SPN writers I'm looking at you.})

25. Everytown, USA by @aileenrose - Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts : I've seen this fic on tons of recs but never really thought much of it. But I kept seeing it so I decided to give it a read and boy was it worth it! This is just a great fic that has plenty of fluff (And angst... Because what's a Destiel fic without sadness and pain?) Cas is a lot different from his character in the show but somehow the exact same? He's Cas, but it's like he's what Cas would have been like if he had grown up human. I just love him so much in this fic (and I want to give him a hug too... 😢)

26. I Through My Window by @dehavilland - Live Journal.

Thoughts: I've seen this fic on several recs and I finally got around to reading it myself. Some ample Destiel angst to hit you right in the feels. But I love this fic because it is incredibly motivating! Post season 5 canon-divergent and Castiel is permanently rendered human. Dean is a ginormous penis head and leaves Cas to fend for himself. Cas pines after him for a while before realizing that he doesn't need Dean to live his life. Cas stans will love this one. I just gotta include a quote because it's just beautiful. "No, I don't need you. But I want you."

27. A Light for My Path* by @domesticadventures - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts : Oh my goodness. This fic is just... *chefs kiss* Told from the perspective of Cas' Continental. (A.K.A "Connie") Dean and Cas are having a difficult time figuring out who they want to be after the end of the last The-End-Of-Times-We're-All-Gonna-Die, but they figure it out together. There are plenty of Impala!pov fics (and even an actual episode), but I don't think I've ever come across one from Connie's perspective. Definitely worth a read.

28. Named* by @RC_McLachlan - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts : Hooo boy. This fic.... This is a complete season five re write and I LOVE IT. It's pretty angsty, but it also has some funny times thrown in. Dean is a sassy girl the whole time and I love him so much. And the plot twist at the end literally blew my mind. (brains splattered on the ceiling and everything.) 12/10.

29. And Even In The Quiet Night by @KelpietheThundergod - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Okay, this one is pretty sad. Not full on angst, but more fluffy sad. (If that makes sense...) Dean wants to celebrate Christmas but no one else seems interested. I just want to wrap Dean in a blanket and sing Hey Jude until he feels better! But don't worry, an absolute beautifully written cliche and sappy ending will make up for it.

30. Just More of the Same (*??) by @outpastthemoat - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts : There really aren't words to describe this series. It's just so fricken bleak but beautiful at the same time. I really don't know how to describe it. Read it, the only regret is that it ends. I honestly hated how it ended, so unfullfilling. But, that's life sometimes, and I think that's the whole point of the series. I don't know if I love it or hate it but there's no denying that it is absolutely beautifully written. 12/10

31. the cost of a thing**by @quiettewandering - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Hooo boy! This is a great fic! Fake marriage? Check. Slow burn? Check. Case!fic? Check. Fluff and angst? Check. This fic has it all. This fic kicked me right in the feels. My gosh, beautifully written and the characterization is FLAWLESS. But trust me, bring tissues as you watch Dean and Cas, slowly, painfully, but surely heal the trust that was shattered between them. This is an AU for season 8 in which Dean was the one who undertook the trials, not Sam. Dean is dying and there's nothing Sam and Cas can do to stop him, especially since Dean is insistent on just giving up and accepting his fate. Cas can save Dean's life, but at what cost? Surely a terrible one... Angst insues. 10/10.

32. I'll Dig a Hole and Pull You Through by @JoCarthage - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: If yall hated the DeanCas interaction in season six (didn't we all...?) then this is the fixit!fic for you. In this fic, Dean helps Cas defeat Raphael. And boy, there's some flangst. (Also Dom!Cas is a thing 😏)

33. Stitches by @Askance - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: I wouldn't exactly call this a fixit!fic, buuut it is a sort of fixit for season 7. (Except Cas gets hurt, which I hate. {So does Dean...}) Cas survives the Laviathan taking over his vessal but is rendered blind. Sam and Dean have to take care of him. Loads of whump and hurt/comfort. Definitely shed a tear or two (or twenty.)

34. The Way Out* by @awed_frog - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: *fangirl noises*. I hate to say this, but OMG! This fic blew my frickin mind! The time line is very confusing and the author gives you a way to read it in chronological order, but it's worth it to read the way it was published. Everything starts making sense around the third to last chapter and it is glorious (-ly sad and angsty.) But there is a happy ending and it's soooo worth it. First timetravel!fic I've ever read and it did not disappoint.

35. What is Hidden, What is Seen* by @ExpatGirl.

Thoughts : Wow! This is a pretty long fic but so worth it. The author joked several times about the fact that the fic is longer than her Masters thesis. This is a complete season 11 re write and I LOVE it. It's got some beautifully written OCs, Crowley, Rowena, and a certain someone who needs to come back canonically. (Again, looking at you Spn writers...) This is just written so well and the author was able to put in small Easter eggs the whole way through just like any real season would. Some light smut but nothing too graphic, angst (Hello, my name is angst but you can call me Destiel.) There's even some humour in here too! All in all, an absolutely beautifully written fic.

36. And This, Your Living Kiss*** by @opal_bullets - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Okay, first off, insert fangirl screams here! I LOVED this fic. (And not just because I'm a clown {which I totally am} but for some personal reasons I'll elaborate on in a sec...) This is an amazingly written, thought-provoking, and heartwarming fic to read. I loved it especially as it featured poet!Dean which I don't find a lot of. Now, I particularly liked this fic because it really hit home for me. The author described exactly how I feel when it comes to poetry. They described how poets often write best in times of sadness and misery and how we often stop writing because we are destroying ourselves in our own heads and can find nothing to write about when we finally allow ourselves to be happy. The author puts it perfectly in this fic. Not only did the fic make me rethink some of the opinions that I've had on poetry writing for years, but it also inspired me to pick up my pen again after not writing for almost a year and a half. So, thank you to the author for getting me back into writing poetry. (I can't thank you enough! ❤️) Please read this fic yall!

37. What We Remember by @Tiro - Fanfic.net

Thoughts : (Not Destiel btw) Oh my Chuck. This is soooo sad. Some nice emotionallyscarred!Dean for ya. It starts out so unassuming too! Totally blindsided me with the angst. But also some brotherly love between Sam and Dean. Definitely worth a read. (P. S, I'm writing this from the floor of my room while I sob in fangirl.)

38. More or Less by @schmerzerling - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Oh my goodness this is such a great fic. Lots of emotional angst and trauma (Just the way I like it.) This fic is so amazing and I loved every minute of it. There are so few stutter!Dean fics out there. This fic is unfinished and hasn't been updated since 2016 but I think it is still worth a read. The point at which the fic is left off has no immediate cliff hangers so I think that the fic can still be appreciated as is. Definitely worth a read.

39. Every Part of the Animal (*?) by @Askance and @Komodobits - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - I hate this fic. I hate how dam* near perfectly written it is. I hate it for the hours I spent crying. I hate it for the hope it gave me before ripping it away like it was a game. This fic was recommended to me on a group chat. I was warned. I was warned that it was a terrifying, horrific, and heartbreaking fic. What did I do?? I read it anyway. (Shocker, I know...) This fic is genuinely terrifying. It's horrific and I have to say, READ THE THE TAGS. Beautifully written, as to be expected by the authors. (Both of whom have featured on this list before.) This is a case fic gone horribly, horrifically, disgustingly wrong. 10/10 would recommend, but be warned: there is NOT a happy ending.

40. Hautley's Bend **** by @ColdInTheStudio - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Okay! So, first of, if you aren't into long fics this is absolutely NOT the fic for you. A whopping 42 chapters, all masterfully written without a flaw or typo in sight. I LOVE this fic with all my heart. I mean, I'm an absolute clown when it comes to Highschool!AUs, but this fic is just... *chef's kiss. * This is the Highschool!fic you have all been wanting. It's got angst, it's got fluff, emotional trauma, not to mention some fan favourite characters. (Gabriel, Charlie, and Kevin to name just a few.) But you should check out the tags before reading as there's some heavy stuff dealt with in this fic: Dean is not a very nice person at the beginning of this fic. There's also underage drinking and detailed substance abuse. Self harm is also pretty prominent in this fic as well as some A+ John Winchester parenting. But the pain is so, so worth it. Bring tissues!

41. Stay With Me, Sweetheart by @MandalaRose - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - The fluff is too much! I mean, we got firefighter!Dean saving Cas' life! (For Chuck's sake...What more could you ask for?) Also some single father Cas caring for a baby Clair, so some cute daddy!Cas for your troubles. So sweet and heartwarming and a very happy ending. 10/10.

42. Season Z*** by @Castielslostwings, @CR Noble, @cutelittlekitty, @EllenOfOz, @fangirlingtodeath513, @heylittleangel, @jscribbles, @MalMuses, and @son_of_a_bitch_spn_family - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - So you might notice that there are LOTS of authors listed above and they all came together to create something beautiful. They started publishing chapters right after the season 14 finale and published a chapter every week until the season 15 premier. This is, essentially, a complete season 15 re write. It is masterfully done! Team Free Will vs. a zombie apocalypse. Also, lots and lots of old faces all brought together to save the world one last time. There's some heartbreak, some love, some smut, some fluff. (Also some Samwena to make everything even better.) 22 long chapters, each feeling like an actual episode, made this fic seem like an actual season. (And I wish the writers would steal from this fic's finale and make some... stuff... finally canon.) Truly a timeless Destiel masterpiece.

43. Something about Pinneaples by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This is an EXTREMELY adorable little DeanCas ficlet. No angst, no Big Sad ™, just sweet sweet, tooth rotting Destiel fluff.

44. Last Night on Earth by @the_communist_unicorn - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Sooo, I'm sure we all remember that disastrous night out, when the first big ol Apocalypse was gearing up, and Dean found out that Cas was an eons-old virgin... And I'm sure we all remember the disaster that was Cas and a prostitute. Anyways, here's what might have happened if Dean had taken a bit more of a... hands on approach. 😏 The chapters are all episodes that took place after the season five episode "Free To Be You And Me" and how they would have unfolded had Destiel become canon. I will warn you, their is smut (easily skippable) and there is DEFINITELY some angst. The whole thing is capped off with a bittersweet alternate ending to season five finale "Swan Song." I can't say much else without spoiling the ending, but all in all it is a very good fic to read.

45. Painted Angels *** by @WinJennster - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- HOLY FRAHOLY. I love this fic. A beautiful take on the classic trope of "We Had Something Good But I Ruined It, Now I'm Gonna Show Up Twelve Years Later And Try To Fix It... Also You're Engaged To Someone Else. Oops?" But seriously, all joking aside, this is an awesome fic. Painter!Dean x Writer!Cas, a match made in Heaven. (Hehe, get it? Heaven? Sorry I'll leave.) HOWEVER, do please be mindful of the tags. There is mentions of suicide and a couple paragraphs describing a rather grizzly accident to one of the main characters. Also, some lovely A+ John Winchester Parenting ™ and several instances of homophobic language. Still, this is an amazingly written fic and I can't stress how much I enjoyed it.

46. Forgotten *** by @NorthernSparrow - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- So, first off, I have to talk about the author for a little bit. I have read every single fic by Northern Sparrow and EVERY SINGLE ONE is a friggin masterpiece. The amount of research and backstory that goes into these fics is truly awe-inspiring. Northern Sparrow leaves no plot holes, no mistakes, no typos, nada. Now, the actual fic in question is no exception. While not particularly a Destiel fic, it can be taken as pre slash. There is a sequel, a Destiel version and a non Destiel version, called Flight that I am currently reading as well. (The Destiel version of course 🤡) There is some serious whump and angst here, both physical and emotional. This fic is a canon divergent from around mid season 9, in which there is no Mark of Cain and is a continual re write of the season. Cas goes through a lot in this fic (my poor baby) and Dean and Sam go through some gnarly stuff as well. This is such a good fic, I really can't stress enough. I wish I was half as talented as Northern Sparrow is when it comes to writing stories. I promise, you will NOT be disappointed. 12/10

47. All is safely gathered in by @randomdestielfangirl - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here is a cute little coda for season 12 episode 6, “Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox.” It’s mostly Mary-centric and her understanding of the Dean/Cas relationship. I’ve always had a soft spot for season 12 codas where Mary sees that Dean and Sam have grown up. (Especially those that have DeanCas in them.)

48. Bring Up the Deep by @deathbanjo - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here is a pretty cool case!fic with eventual Destiel fluff at the end. The story line is a little heavy and dark, but nothing more than canon-typical violence. This involves Sam, Dean, and a human Cas traveling to the beach to investigate a “sea monster.” Fair warning, there are moments describing Cas’ depression and struggle with figuring out who he is and who he wants to be, but again, not as bad as season 9... (STILL not forgiving the writers for that fiasco.)

49. Hazy Shade of Winter by @GeekPrincess - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here is yet another case!fic. This one has Team Free Will and Mary teaming up to solve a case in rural Wyoming in the middle of winter. It takes place not too long after Mary’s resurrection and Sam being freed from the British Men of Letters. At first it seems to be just a normal case, but per Winchester fashion, someone ends up getting attacked. Definitely worth a read.

50. A Little Old Fashioned by @theheartchoice - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Another coda, sorry... (I’ve been going through a faze) This one takes place in the aftermath of 14x13 episode “Lebanon.” I was disappointed that Cas didn’t play that big of a role in the 300th episode. I thought for sure he would considering he WASN’T EVEN IN THE 200TH EPISODE. *Clears throat* Umm, ya. Just some Destiel fluff of Cas taking care of Dean’s wounds the old fashioned way after John’s departure.

51. Same Deep Water by @braezenkitty - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Team Free Will heads to California to investigate a string of mysterious deaths in a supposedly haunted hotel called the Brookdale Lodge, nestled in the redwoods of Santa Cruz. I particularly enjoyed this fic because it has a definite early SPN vibe. Very creepy and eerie and reminded me a lot of No Exit (2x06) and Playthings (2x11). Also a bit of flirty!Cas and jealous!Dean.

52. Looking for a Sign* by @emwebb17 - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- THIS FIC... is sooo adorable. Holy Chuck. Dean meets Cas on his bus ride to work and tries to talk with him. Not realizing that Cas is deaf, Dean just assumes he’s being ignored and goes out of his way to get Cas to interact with him. After weeks of no response he finally realizes that Cas can’t hear him and so Dean offers that they start over with their acquaintanceship. Dean meets all of Cas’ friends and they quickly grow closer and closer. They would be perfect for each other except Cas refuses to date hearing people. (Also, bonus points for the pun in the title.)

53. Peanut Butter-Pumpkin Wedding Cake by @Sparseparsley - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I’ve seen this fic on so many rec lists and I’m so mad that it took me this long to finally read it. Bartender!Dean meets Cas at a bachelor party and they hit it off right away. Then, when Cas’ car breaks down, Dean offers to drive him around to make preparations for the upcoming wedding. Dean has a massive crush, but thanks to Dean’s remarkable ability to jump to conclusions, he thinks that Cas is the one getting married in 2 weeks. Read it just for the sake of watching two idiots dance around each other for weeks on end. They aren’t fooling anyone but themselves.

54. My Marble Guardian by @LadyDrace - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Bring tissues cuz this one hurts like a season 12 finale. (Heh. I’m hilarious.) Dean is killing himself trying to support little Sam after their parents die. Dean is close to ending it all and takes to talking to the marble angel statue that sits by his mother’s grave. I can’t say much else without spoiling the ending so you’ll have to read it yourself to find out how it ends.

55. The Law of Equivalent Exchange** by @awed_frog - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Holy crap! This fic is truly amazing. @awed-frog is one of my favourite authors of all time. (And has featured on this rec list before.) This fic follows Castiel caring for his ward, a man who will one day be called Dean Winchester. Follow Cas through Rome, Greece, Paris, Russia, Germany, and more as he guides the impossibly bright soul that Heaven claims will one day save them all. In other words, Cas is sent to earth to watch over Dan, son of Enoch and continues to do so until January 24th, 1979, the day Dean Winchester is finally born. The fic then becomes canon-compliant all the way until season 11, then stems into a canon-divergent for defeating Amara. All from Cas’ POV, we see how he went from being Castiel, Angel of Tears and Thursdays to Cas, Angel of Dean Winchester. 12/10.

56. A Way Back Home* by @thatpeculiarone - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Another AU with deaf!Cas. Dean is a lonely bakery owner whose past is full of heartbreak and loss. He meets Clair Novak, a mute girl who has no one to talk to, after Jody suggests that they meet. Neither are too keen on the idea at first, but they soon discover a perfect remedy for their predicament. Dean loves to tell stories and Clair loves to hear them. Dean has a story for every pastry in his bakery, and Clair soon realizes that all of Dean’s stories seem to revolve around one person. After finally discovering why Dean always looks sad when no one is looking, hates Valentines Day with a passion, and only ever talks about his best friend in the past tense, Clair is determined to help Dean get the happily-ever-after that he never got to have.

57. Such Familiar Magic by @saltnhalo - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This fic was inspired by the artwork of very talented @lizleeships here on Tumblr. This is the first witch AU I’ve ever read and it did not disappoint. Cas is a reclusive witch with unimaginable power and Dean is one of the most powerful familiars in North America. Both of our boys have some dark secrets and ghosts from their pasts threaten to separate the two for good.

58. I'm fine by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Can I just say, WOW. This one is yet another small ficlet to go along with @lizleeships artwork. This fic, despite its short length, is so potent and amazing! The writer effortlessly blends the canon SPN with the world of Destiel and I am LIVING for it. The somber and quiet nature of this fic makes it an excellent read for a late at night fanfic session.

59. The Shadows on his Shoulders by @lizleenimbus (Yes, I know. Two in a row... I don't care.)- Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Okay, first off, @lizleenimbus has become one of my favourite fic writers EVER. This fic is canon compliant (sort of) for season 6, just when Dean is beginning to figure out that something is wrong with Sam. (In the soul department, that is.. .) This here is a wingfic to end all wingfics. I love the writing, the characterization, the plot, everything, just... *chefs kiss.*

60. The Care and Feeding of Castiel by @MalMuses - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Soooo, another wingfic!! (No, I don't have a problem. YOU have a problem...) I am a total sucker for wing!grooming DeanCas fics. I just, gosh! I love them so much! I love this fic more every time, no matter how many times I've read it before.

61. Asunder by @rageprufrock - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Now, listen here lil clowns. Everyone loves a good "I need a plus one for my brother's wedding" trope and this here fic is the perfect one. And if you don't love it, this is absolutely NOT the fic for you. Sam is getting married and Dean doesn't want to go to it alone, so he enlists the company of his best friend Cas to go with him. Shenanigans and misunderstandings ensue, topped off with a healthy serving of meddling family members. A great rainy afternoon read.

62. Good Call by @sysrae - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - First, please be mindful of the tags as Dean meets Cas by talking him off of a ledge. However, despite the horrible start, this series is still incredibly fluffy and sappy. It also has Therapist!Benny being exasperated by Dean and Cas' utter stupidity around each other. This is a very heartwarming fic that balances the angst with fluff perfectly.

63. 'Tis but a Crush by @Annie D - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Here is an awesome little meet cute modern AU fic! Cas notices that a man with startling green eyes stares at him whenever they are together. Cas is interested immediately but the green eyed man seems too shy to approach Cas. Fluff and awkward moments soon follow.

64. Where There's Smoke, Theres Fire** by @OsirisApollo - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - So, first of, I am absolutely in LOVE with Firefighter!Dean. Cas is an ER doctor who meets Dean after the fire alarm in his apartment building goes off. Cas manages to make a fool of himself but is comforted by the fact that he'll never see the attractive firefighter again. Boy, was Cas wrong. The two men seem to run into each other practically everywhere, and no matter how hard Cas tries, he always seems to embarrass himself with every meeting. This fic was responsible for making me squeal aggressively at 2 AM. 10/10 Destiel fluff.

65. Forget - Me - Not -Blues*** by @noangelsinthegarrison - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a fic that I go back and read over and over again. It’s got a perfect balance of fluff and angst, misunderstandings, and a healthy dose of clueless, meddling family and friends. Bottom line is, Sam is getting married and Dean is going to be the best man. He’s thrilled, until he finds out that Castiel Novak is Jess’ honorary Maid of Honour. Dean and Cas had a... something or other back in high school. Dean would ask to be friends again but Cas is intent on pretending that they never knew each other in the first place. Misunderstandings, awkward moments, and an obscene amount of embarrassment ensues, no thanks at all to the “tradition” surrounding the Maid of Honour and the Best Man. 10/10.

66. Ignore the Butterflies: Best Friend Advice from Dean Winchester by @impatient14 - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay, this one has practically every romcom trope out there... AND I AM LIVING FOR IT. (*Clears throat) Ya, soooo. Doctor Cas and Firefighter Dean are friends. Best friends actually. Totally platonic bros. A bromance for the ages. The broist bros to ever bro. That’s it. No homosexual feelings to be found here. None at all... Or so Dean tries to convince himself.

67. Prosopagnosia by @misseditallagain - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Man, this fic is really adorable and quite heartbreaking at times. Cas has a cognitive disorder that means he can’t ever remember faces. He’s given up on finding love until he meets one Dean Winchester, but he’s afraid to tell his hot date the truth about his condition. Assumptions are made and misunderstandings threaten to tear the two apart for good, but maybe there’s a chance for these two after all.

68. Midnight Blues AKA To Hell and Back (Courtesy of Sig Sauer) by @outofminutes - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- As we all know, I am a glutton for damaged!Dean being cared for by Cas. Dean is a war veteran. He’s been discharged for five years but he hasn’t dared to go back home until now. He’s not the same person he was all those years ago and the constant haunting of horrors past threaten to tear him apart. Thankfully, he’s got a loving family and a new friend (Hehe. Guess who. Sorry, I’ll leave) to help him pick up the pieces.

69. Scars by @lemonsorbae - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay, first off: WOOOO 69! NOICE! OKay, I’m done... So, this fic stands out to me for the writers unique take on some popular tropes. Dean is a tattoo artist with green hair (Insert Priestly from Ten Inch Hero here.) and Cas is the stereotypical hipster. They don’t get along very well at the beginning of this fic. (Which is a HUGE understatement btw). Then, a drunken party leads to certain... unsavory actions, and both swear that it will never happen again. And that’s a total lie. Lots of smutty times in this one so be warned, also references to past trauma for both of our favourite boys so please mind the tags before reading.

70. The One Thing You Can’t Lose by @MajorEnglishEsquire - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is just a cuddly, tooth-rottingly fluffy little ficlet for some happy DeanCas feels. Warning: Do not read in public place for there WILL be squeals.

71. The Ugly Sweater Verse by @nerdylittledude - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I know, I know. Everyone who’s ever read Destiel fanfiction has heard of the Ugly Sweater Verse. I don’t care! I’m reccing it anyway. A newly human Castiel wants to experience every holiday to its fullest, dragging Dean and Sam (But mostly Dean) along with him. This is an AU for after season 5 in which Sam is alive, Cas is human, and Dean finally gets his head out of his ass. (With a little... okay a lot of help from the rest of Team Free Will.) This is an awesome feel-good Verse that is always nice to read after a bad day. There is a prequel to this Verse that is stand-alone, but you don’t have to read it to get the rest of the Verse. (Also, if you’re only looking for fluffy times then I wouldn’t recommend reading the prequel. You have been warned.)

72. Cats and Tats by @Jemariel - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This here is the quintessential Coffee Shop AU that no one asked for (Well.. I asked for it. I’m lonely dammit) Cas owns a coffee shop that is right next door to a tattoo shop owned by our own Dean Winchester. Dean doesn’t like the pastel coffee shop because it totally ruins his badassery vibe, and Cas doesn’t need another distraction like Dean, and poor Sam never gets a moments peace.

73. Moving On by @BruisedCastiel - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Castiel is a witch who reads fortunes for a living. One day he gets a customer named Dean whose reading has a shocking outcome. Not too much later, Dean’s ghost comes looking for Castiel seeking answers. This fic starts out pretty sad and things look hopeless for Dean and Cas but don’t worry! There’s a happy ending.

74. Into the Fire** by @NorthernSparrow- Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I’ve mentioned on this list before that NorthernSparrow is my favourite fic writer of all time. And their work has been featured several times on this list before. Now, be warned. This fic gets VERY dark VERY quickly. Dean, shortly after the Mark of Cain is removed, is cursed and he kills Cas. The trauma of the Mark, the guilt he feels for killing Cas, and the looming threat of the Darkness sends Dean into a mental breakdown. Sam, mourning the loss of Cas himself, is left to try and put together what is left of Dean’s sanity AND to come up with a plan to defeat the Darkness. Sam and Dean, with the help of several allies, come together to save the universe once and for all. This is a full AU starting sometime in early season 11 and finishes all the way through the end of the season. There is a lot of sadness and guilt in this fic, so please be careful going into it. Bring tissues. I cried gratuitously throughout this fic. But don’t worry because THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING. Bonus points for TrueForm!Cas. 15/10.

75. There’d Be No Distance by @imogenbynight - Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts- Just a short, feel-good, fluffy Christmas fic for ya. Cas is lonely on New Years because he assumes that he won’t be welcome to the family get-together. But don’t worry! Dean sets the record straight with his angel. (Well...Not straight but... you know what I mean.)

76. Imperfect Proposals by @Fallen_Angel_Meg - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay, so, Cas is a total jerk at the beginning of this fic. He’s demanding, arrogant, cruel, and just rude to practically everyone who works at his firm. Dean is his new assistant and needs this job if he’s ever going to make it as an architect, but Castiel isn’t making it easy for him. Things get more complicated when Cas is threatened with being deported so he says that Dean is his fiance. Dean isn’t on board until Cas threatens to fire him if he doesn’t play along. Now they just have to make it through Sam and Jess’ wedding. Easy... Right? (There IS a happy ending it just takes these two idiots a while to get there.)

77. The Novak Hickey Mystery by @FagurFiskur - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is just a short ficlet involving Professor Novak’s mysterious relationship and some VERY nosy students. Nice and quick happy-go-lucky fic with no angst and plenty of tooth rotting fluff.

78. Come Back* by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is yet another short, canon-verse ficlet for you guys. (I know these last couple fics have been pretty short but I have been reading so many long fics recently that I’ve needed a bit of a mental break from the stress of a slow burn lol) Anyways, this is one of my favourite authors. Literally, every single thing by this author is a freaking gold mine of Destiel goodness. This particular ficlet chronicles Dean and Cas sharing an intimate conversation after a particularly nasty hunt. I love these types of fics in which Dean and Cas actually Use There Words™ and talk like Grown Ups™. (Never happens canonically so I’ll take what I can get. Looking at you SPN writers.) ALSO, this has artwork also by @lizleeships! I swear, this individual is too frickin talented. 10/10!

79. And then there were Six* by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I know, I know. Two in a row by the same author... This author rocks okay! (Seriously, go check them out) This right here is a wing fic my friends. But not the type we are used to. It involves a bashful Cas, flustered Dean (And I know we ALL love a flustered Dean), and a very amused little brother. I love this ficlet especially as it is a beautiful take on the fact that Seraphim are supposed to have six wings.

80. Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day by @awed_frog - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here’s another fic from a “rec list favourite” author of mine. This is a pretty cool case fic with an awesome monster of the week. (Japanese folklore at its finest.) A creature manifests itself as a person’s true love. Sam sees Jess, Cas sees Dean, Dean sees Cas (And has a freakout along the way.)

81. Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) by @sobsicles - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Hoooo Boy! Talk about an angst fest. Set sometime in early season 15, Dean and Cas get their memories wiped and Dean is convinced that they are serial killers on the run from some tall guy named Sam. Things get awkward when they get their memories back, as they also remember what the two of them did when they were on the run together. Dean talks out of his ass, Cas gets angry (rightfully so), Sam and Eileen just want a moments peace, and LOTS of bad blood gets let out out into the open for the first time in years. This fic was hard to read because, true to Winchester fashion, Dean and Cas’ communication during this fic is TERRIBLE. Just when you think the two of them are about to hash things out, one of them goes and says something stupid and they have to start all over again. I definitely recommend this fic, but be prepared to brave some hardcore angst before Dean and Cas get their happy ending.

82. Lost in Words, Hand in Hand* by @hallowgirl - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is the fluffiest fluffy fic to ever fluff! (Try saying that 10 times fast.) Dean tells Cas that he never got read to as a child, so Cas takes it upon himself to read to Dean. It was supposed to be a one time thing, but the two enjoy the time together more than they thought they would. Plus, there’s so many books to read, and laying in the same bed is just practical. That’s it. Just guys being dudes. And if Dean happens to fall asleep on Cas’ shoulder? Well, that’s not his fault at all. (Also, bonus points for Sam being the typical smug little bro who lets Dean know that he and Cas aren’t as subtle as they think they are.)

83. La Hantise** by @quiettewandering - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay so, I have been waiting to read this fic for FOREVER. I read the first couple chapters a long time ago (back when it was still a WIP) and I immediately fell in love. I decided, rather painfully, to stop reading and save it to my Marked For Later until it was finished. I have a hard time when it comes to WIPs because I forget what I read during the previous update and I often times lose interest until I can read it all in one go. I couldn’t wait to read it and I was not disappointed! This fic is BEAUTIFULLY written and the story seems to come to life before your eyes. This is the Destiel we all fell in love with; Two damaged and broken beings finding peace within each other. Warning: these two are complete idiots and there’s a lot of pining and some pretty hefty angst. Castiel’s backstory is truly, completely and utterly, tragic. Dean’s isn’t a picnic either I suppose, but it’s Cas past that comes back to haunt Dean and Cas in this fic. The author seamlessly interweaves the reality with the make believe and it sucks the reader into the story effortlessly. 14/10. A Destiel classic.

84. Cheers, Angel Eyes by @wannaliveindeansdimples - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- As I’m sure you all know by now, I am in love with bartender! and barista!Dean. This fic has a healthy dose of bartender!Dean for you. In this fic, Castiel, known to Dean only as Angel Eyes, is a regular at the bar that Dean owns. The two hit it off during the few conversations that they have and decide to give themselves a chance. Very minimal angst and only just a small bit of pining from Dean’s POV. A very good, quick, none painful read.

85. best friends without benefits by @lizbobjones - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This fic is set between the end of season 11 and the beginning of season 12 and is canon divergent for the most part. This one is pretty funny and enjoyable to read, if only for the sake of poor Sam and Mary dealing with two complete idiots. Dean lets slip to Cas that he finds Cas driving Baby “hot” and Cas admits that he has known of Dean’s attraction for years. Cas proposes he and Dean enter a Friends With Benefits relationship and Dean just can’t say no. But Dean just digs himself deeper and deeper into trouble after he mistakes Cas’ preposition as a rejection of deeper feelings. Misunderstandings happen, Dean is a big baby, Cas is clueless, and Sam is stuck in the middle.

87. Shifter by @@LadyLini - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- There are tons and tons of fics out there where Dean and Cas are the bumbling idiots of the story (Yes, just like in the show) and Sam is the one who has everything figured out. But this fic looks at the idea of Sam being the one out of the loop and Dean and Cas being the ones who actually know what the heck is going on. This is a cool AU in which Sam went to Stanford, John Winchester is still an ass hole, and Destiel is canon. This was a cool take on how the events of the show would have taken place if Sam wasn’t there and Cas had been the one to save Dean from Azazel.

89. diamond star halo by @jad - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a wonderfully light-hearted little fic in which Cas possesses Dean while his vessel recovers from the attack dog spell. We also get some great brotherly banter, Cas and Dean bickering like an old married couple, and other Team Free Will shenanigans. Also, poor Sam.

90. like moses and batman and james dean by @saltyfeathers - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Oooohh boy. This fic is quite the can of worms for me. Here, the author gives us a more detailed account of Dean’s past of turning tricks in order to raise little Sammy, and how this past is affecting his current relationship with our Wayward Angel. This is a heavier fic and please be mindful of the tags (Yes, John Winchester’s A+ parenting is one of them...) But it DOES have a happy ending.

91. any port in the storm by @mishcollin - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- If you are looking for a case!fic with Dean and Cas pretending to be dating on a couple’s cruise then you have come to the right place. I love this fic specifically for the care and detail of the case. Even more, there are lots and lots of OCs in this fic and every single one of them has their own personality and backstory. Be warned: there are lots of arguments between the elder Winchester and newly human Castiel. (Most of them because Dean is a big ol idiot in this fic and keeps the possible location of Cas’ fallen grace from him because of his Winchester Fear Of Abandonment ™)

92. Sunset Plaza by @LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Dang! This is a great fic. Cas is practically married to his work and never goes on vacations, so his loving brother Gabriel decides to book him a weekend at a resort. Cas ends up having to share his room with one Dean Winchester the first night due to a problem with the server at the hotel. But they manage to make the best of it (if ya know what I mean...) Everything is great until its time to go home. They could make it work, but our lovable idiots can’t let anything be that easy. (Extra points for a little dash of Sabriel and meddling Gabriel.)

93. Longing by @whelvenwings - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a really fluffy fic set in canonverse. Dean and Cas finally have a discussion that has been long in the making, ending years of mutual pining. The tone of this fic is very sweet and is a great, feel-good, nighttime read. Give me Destiel and Impala confessions and I’m one happy clown.

94. Hallelujah! Noel! Be it Heaven or Hell by @EnochianThings - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- EnochianThings is one of my favourite fic writers of all time! I can’t believe its taken me this long to rec this fic. This is an angsty holiday fic in which Cas confesses his feelings first and Dean is a total assbutt about it. Dean is at a loss after he realizes that he might of just driven away the one thing that could have made him the happiest: Cas. (Oh, don’t get me started on a rejected Cas... My heart can’t bear his sultry seraphim sadness.)

95. I’ll Cross the Sky for You by @superhoney - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I am going to start this off by saying that I wasn’t really into this fic at first. I had found it through tags alone and it sat in my Marked for Later for months. I liked the tags, but I wasn’t sure about the premise of the fic. I could NOT have been more wrong. This fic was absolutely adorable. Barista!Dean meets Captain!Castiel... but in space! (With space ships and everything!) Anyways, very adorable, very cute. Definitely worth checking out.

96. Nepeta Cataria* by @thepopeisdope - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I would literally give anything for there to be more Witch!Cas x Familiar!Dean fics out there. This is one of my favourite AUs and I feel like it is so lacking compared to many of the others. In this fic, Cas is a lonesome witch who plants catnip to prevent mosquitoes from being in his garden. Little did he know that it would also attract Dean, a powerful familiar, who just so happens to be the love of Cas’ life. (Familiar!Dean is almost always a dog in the fics I find so it was great to get to see him as a cat. Honestly, Cat Familar!Dean might be my favourite.)

97.Texas State of Mind** by @palominopup – Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is an awesome fic with country singer Castiel Novak meeting Dean Winchester, a man who was once an award-winning country music star. Dean has a complicated past, as he didn’t leave the industry on a good note (Compliments of John Winchester’s A+ Parenting™) He’s sworn off ever singing again and is content to look after his horses for the rest of his life... That is, until Cas Novak wants to sing a duet. This is an awesome fic with lots of familiar SPN faces. It takes Dean and Cas a little while to come around for each other, but once they do, they’re a fluffy force to be reckoned with.

98. In Real Life by @cloudyjenn – Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a hilarious little meetcute in which Dean has been communicating with this guy online... They’ve never done anything but exchange messages and texts, never even seen each other’s faces, but Dean is pretty sure he’s in love with him. Sam decides that such a relationship is completely pointless if the two will never meet so he introduces his brother to Castiel. Dean thinks he’s hot and would totally go out with him, but he just can’t bring himself to like someone other than his online mystery man. But Cas is fine with Dean not being interested, mostly because there’s this guy he met online who, even though they’ve never met... Aaaand ya. You all can guess where this is going hahaha. But it gets even better when Sam realizes that Dean and Cas are each other’s mystery online crushes and decides to have a little fun with it.

99. Rentboy by @Naoe – Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Dean Winchester’s life hasn’t been pretty, but he’s happy with it because at least he got Sammy the life and opportunities he wanted. Dean’s life takes an interesting turn when he meets Castiel at a benefit. Dean, ashamed of his job, comes up with a new name and a new life story for this strange man. Somehow, the two form an unlikely bond, Dean supporting Castiel as his wife is dying. But the lie Dean told is still there and he has no idea how to fix it. And once Castiel’s wife is gone, the lie is the only thing keeping them from truly being together. Castiel isn’t in love with Dean Winchester... at least, not the real one. Needless to say, life isn’t easy for a Rent boy in the 80s.

100. Silver and Cold by @superhoney – Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Silver and Cold is an amazing AU in which Castiel is a wayward hunter afraid of settling down and a dark past that haunts him everywhere he goes. While on a case investigating a possible werewolf attack, Cas runs into Dean Winchester, a recluse who lives up in the woods of Sydnam, Maine. He’s got a bad temper and a past to rival Cas’. If it weren't for the alarming amount of evidence pointing towards Dean being the werewolf, Cas thinks Dean might just be more kind than he lets people believe.

101. Any Little Heartbreak* by @followthattardis – Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This was a fic that I started reading a long time ago, but somehow lost and couldn’t find it again. But I finally found it and the joy I felt was unparalleled. (My little clown heart could barely take it) Dean is a heart surgeon. He’s frickin good at it to... Maybe even one of the best in the US. He knows everything there is to know about the human heart. (“Anatomically speaking”) He’s just transferred to a new hospital and the head nurse is totally hot. And Dean also happens to make a fool of himself in front of said nurse on his very first day at the hospital. From there, it seems that despite his best efforts, Cas doesn’t like Dean at all. (And EVERYONE likes Dean so, what the hell?) Dean thinks his crush will go away if he can just get all that tension out of his system... Boy was he wrong. I LOVE this fic and I am so glad I was able to find it again. I especially liked how all the hospital staff were all familiar faces. 😊

102. What happened between me and Cas* by @AthenaErrata – Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This right here?? Broke me. BROKE ME I TELL YOU. (*Clears throat) This is a coda set just after 11x19 episode The Chitters, in which Dean finally tells Sam everything. The secret kisses, stolen touches. The betrayals, the lies, the guilt. Everything. All the things involving Cas that Dean promised himself he would never tell another soul. Dean retells events from seasons 4 to 11 and gives a bit more info into just why he and Cas can never truly be happy together. The fic continues into a canon-compliant tale all the way until a beautiful happy reunion set in 13x06 episode Tombstone.

103. True Faces* by @Tibbins – Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I'm pretty sure that this author has featured on this rec list a couple times before. Tibbins is one of my favourite SPN writers of all time. This is a trilogy verse in which Dean, Sam, and Cas tell some truths that should have been shared a LONG time ago. In the first one, titled “Behind the Mask”, Dean convinces Sam to open up about some things that has been bothering him and Sam finally sheds some light on what it was like being tortured by Lucifer. The second, titled “In the Mind”, follows Dean as he opens up to Sam following the conversation from the first fic. He tells Sam more of what happened in Hell and why he will never really be able to wipe the blood off his hands. The last fic (Which is pre slash Destiel) titled “Under the Skin”, Cas gets to discuss with Dean the things that haunt the angel’s mind. The last one is especially painful... Though the two finally admit their feelings for one another, Dean explains to Cas why he just isn’t ready yet. It’s sad, but it has a hopeful ending.

104. In My Time of Vinyl by @freclesarechocolate - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- First off, damn! This fic is one to pull at your heartstrings. I am a a shameless lover of hurt!Dean and this fic delivers beautifully. Cas, driven to seek shelter from the rain, enters the record shop owned by Dean. Dean is sweet and offers shelter for the night and Cas ends up promising to come back to buy some records. The two create a fast friendship but Cas ends up noticing some things that are a little off with Dean. He’s always smiling, but sometimes the smiles can’t cover up the sadness in his eyes. He doesn’t talk about his family or his past, and he never seems to have a lot of food in his fridge. This is a story of coming to terms with mental health, friendship, love, trust, and letting others help you. I absolutely recommend this fic! Quick warning, however, Dean has a very troubled life and his story is no picnic ride. Be sure to check out the tags before reading.

105. Hunter’s Caress*** by @Ltleflrt - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is probably in my top five most favourite Destiel fics of all time. I have read this fic all the way through at least twice now. The story follows Castiel Jameson, a Pinkerton Detective, who is on a quest to revenge his murdered brother. He seeks the help of the outlaw Dean Winchester, a dangerous man who supposedly has enough blood on his hands to fill an ocean. Cas saves Dean and his brother Sam from being hung in exchange for their assistance in tracking the rat bastard who killed his brother. The two start out as enemies, then to begrudging allies, friend, and maybe even something more. Cas tries to keep his mind on business, but he aches to learn the feeling of a Hunter’s Caress. 20/10. Be warned though, this fic gets pretty gritty. The world of hunters and outlaws is messy and dangerous. This fic deals with death, injury, rape, and worse. Be careful before heading in but I assure you, this fic will not disappoint.

106. Love Bites* by @malmuses - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- MalMuses is one of the best fic writers out there. A true legend in the SPN fandom! This fic is one of my favourite as it features Creature!Dean x Human!Castiel. In this fic, Cas takes in a bat that his cat got a hold of. Cas knows that there’s something special about this bat. He seems to understand human speech and loves hamburgers. But even stranger, his eyes are the exact same green as the cute mechanic who comes into the coffee shop sometimes.

!107-117. All of these are just codas set for post 15x18 and for post finale/finale rewrites. They are pretty much very similar. Dean breaks down and Sam is left to pick up the pieces. Most, if not all, have happy/hopeful endings.

107. Everything is Blue by @malmuses - AO3

108. Tag to “Despair” by @Alvinola- AO3

109. Time by @Chipper99- AO3

110. When It All Crashes Down by @spacegirlstuff - AO3

111. Through the clouds by @judithhandronicus - AO3

112. Because it is by @60r3d0m - AO3

113. the burden of belonging by @Newtondale - AO3

114. Counting the days by @WanderUntilLost - AO3

115. The Weight of Silence by @jscribbles - AO3

116. As It Should Be by @Loser_Angel_666 - AO3

117. When you have a home by @Firebog - Archive of Our Own.

118. What’s Left Unsaid (Is Finally Said) by @A_Place_To_Roam - Archive of Our Own.

119. When you have a future by @Firebog - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a lovely fic in which Sam succeeds in closing Hell and Castiel is able to board up Heaven. Everyone lives happily-ever-after. No looming Apocalypse, no higher power, no fate. Found family is the only thing that remains. But Dean is left with this strange feeling rolling around in his gut. Like he’s waiting for the next disaster to happen. Meanwhile Sam learns about dog poetry from Castiel, Team Free Will gets pet rabbits (named after porn stars), Dean finally gets his head out of his ass, and Sam learns something shocking about his older brother.

120. Remarkable by @shiphitsthefan - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Castiel’s the new elementary school teacher in town. One of his classmates, one Ben Braeden, has a father who is just as annoying as was promised. Dean’s “helpful” books and readings he brings Castiel about being more socially aware get easily dismissed as overly-involved-parent-crap. But that all changes after Castiel reads Ben Braeden’s essay assignment.

121. (Dis) Affection by @justkeeponwriting - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This fic!!!!! This fic is soo frickin adorable. Dean and Cas’ nosy friends set them up on a blind date. Neither of them is very happy so they devise an epic plan of revenge. Act like the most disgustingly in love couple ever and then have a terrible public breakup. Hopefully their friends will feel so guilty that they never try to set the two up again. The plan goes amazingly. Dean and Cas find it easy to fake being a newly in love couple... Almost too easily.

122. Uniform of a Winchester******** by @monsterfuckerdean - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Its fics like these that I think set the SPN fandom apart from others. The thought put into these works makes them so real, so painstakingly relatable, make the characters come to life both on screen and in words. This is a heartbreaking character study of Dean Winchester. The author gives the reader a glimpse into the backstory behind Dean’s jewelry. The skull bracelet given to him by Missouri, the ring given to him by a childhood friend named Lee Webb, and more. This fic will break your heart. And if you’re like me, you won’t be able to find another fic that comes anywhere close to it. (If you do, please give it to me.) I’ve read this fic many times over. I take this fic as canon, completely and utterly. Dean Winchester is written so perfectly that the writers of the show are frickin jealous.

123. In Someone Else’s Life by @blue_morning - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- A classic Destiel wedding trope! Cas, along with his obnoxious-but-lovable brother Gabriel, accidentally crash a stranger’s wedding. Cas meets Jessica, the lucky bride, along with Sam, the best man. But its the groom with beautiful green eyes that Castiel can’t take his eyes off of. Assumptions are made, embarrassment ensues, and maybe... just maybe, happily ever afters do really happen.

124. Nobody’s Fault But Mine by @peanutbutterjelly-pie - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Oh! the fluff! Its killing me. Cas meets Dean and Sam Winchester. Both ridiculously attractive and both total sweethearts. But Castiel finds himself falling for Sam, the older brother with the beautiful green eyes. Too bad he’s getting married to Jessica in a few weeks... Tee hee hee. It’s glorious.

#destiel+ficlet #Destiel #destiel fluff #destiel feels #SPN #SPNFamily #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #castiel #charlie bradbury #crowley #deancas #dean winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #dean whump #castiel whump #clownin' around

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mangomochi-yn · 4 years

Text

unexpected lovers [simple, really]

shiratorizawa. ushijima wakatoshi x reader

g. the softest fluff, im weak

tw. just mad ushi lovin wc. 1.7k (holy das a lot..)

everything you do, i don’t know how, strikes a chord within me

on Wakatoshi

this one

this one is well known for having basically one (1) constant thoughts only really

and that is— volleyball

(maybe some farming and the necessary school work every now and then)

but everyone knew not to expect more than that from him

except Ushijima really is still human, isn’t he?

on the rare moments he thinks of the future and is not ridden with being a pro volleyball player, he does think about one thing that go hand in hand with a nice farm

a family

and this happens once in a blue moon for him

literally twice a year at most

((once was when he sees a lovely sister and baby brother walk up to their parents during a small hanabi festival Tendou took him to, the scene of them all in yukatas gleaming at each other hit a chord in him for just a split second))

no it wasn't the confessions he would receive by the girls in his school, none of those fazed him

instead—for the second time that year—it was when he went to their school’s annual art exhibition with the rest of the vbc

((cause you KNOW that school is fancy enough to have a grand one))

he mainly went because they had to give up the gym early for art clubs to set up their works there too

but once he sees the all kinds of works lining the halls of the gym and 1st & 2nd floors of their school he would be lying if he said wasn’t astonished

it was his first time to attend one of his school’s annual art exhibition (despite being a third year)

((Tendou told him that this year’s was held shorter so he might be able to use the gym after they clean up))

(Semi scolds the red head for lying to him later)

but as they see how Ushijima’s gaze gleams just a little bit brighter that afternoon—they deemed the lie worth it

at least their captain might have one beautiful memory of highschool that wasn’t the sport he was so dedicated to

the various paintings, sculptures, photography, and many more works kept catching his eyes in amazement— just like a shy kid brought to a candy store

but it was deemed even more worth it once they pass by this table— a little bit smaller than the others— stationed in the second floor

in front of the classroom at the very end of the hall, furthest from the stairway

there was a table filled with the randomest objects painted with different kinds of oil and water based paints

a pillow, glass cups, a broom and even a stop sign were colored vibrantly in display

while tendou and reon laugh at the painted broom, shirabu and semi stare at the stop sign, discussing about how it should have been illegal to take the government’s property off the streets

they were all loudly throwing comments and compliments at the bizarre trinkets but ushijima was the one silent— unwavering gaze at one object he was all too familiar with

“May I hold that one?”

the rest of the boys’ eyes finally snapped to the ace’s direction and all simultaneously their eyes widen comically, amazed by the object

“Holy crap how did they think of painting that?” Yamagata exclaims while Tendou was freaking out

“Wow... that is so cool.” Goshiki’s eyes sparkled as Semi and Shirabu nod in agreement

their captain was the quietest—and although that was common—even they could see how his eyes had a stunned look to it as he held the object in hand

a single painted volleyball

painted with all four seasons of the year angled in a way the colors lined with the ball’s stitching

in each patch were small silhouettes of people too— one was a lone man, then a couple playing walking hand in hand, a family of four by a swing set, then a couple again but with hunched backs and older looking statures this time

and at the last patch—a small pair of gravestones, with the wind blowing leaves on them

Ushijima hadn’t even noticed he was holding his breath as he gazed at each vibrant season

he only blinked again as Tendou rips the ball out of his grasp, fawning over it with the rest of the team

this was the second blue moon for him

the second time thoughts of love and family run across his head—and this time it wasn’t for a split second

his unexpected lover was a piece of art

—a piece of art that made something he held everyday seem so unfamiliar yet familiarly beautiful

as he scans the rest of the works laid on the table he finally notices the similar themes for each one of them too

the glass cups had wedding rings and white flowers painted delicately

the stop sign had two hands clasping on a car’s armrest, driving in a road at the side of a mountain

the pillow was painted like an ultrasound albeit having starking colors unlike the typical black and white—a vague silhouette of a baby was airily painted on it

and the broom

it was the simplest of them all

the broom had different sized hands plastered on it— one gruff and large, two pairs of dainty slim ones with one pair smaller, and the smallest one chubby and stout like a toddler’s

it reminded him of the family he saw on the hanabi festival he went to

and it was so fascinating

—how those few artworks had his heart beating a different pace and made his ears seem to hear clearer, more openly

he fell in love with them

and he couldn’t help but think of the person behind them as well— wanting to thank them for giving him this foreign but warm feeling

“Oh? You’re Ushijima-san from the volleyball club, right?”

a jolly voice snaps him out of his thoughts

matching the voice was you— with some paint stains on your face and a dirty apron tied to your front

you glanced around with a wide smile and see the rest of the vbc, making your smile even brighter

“Oh you guys are all here!”

the boys shift their attention to you as you drop your messy palette and brush on the chair behind you, bowing slightly as you tuck a hair behind your ear

“Ahh.. I see you guys saw what I stole from you.”

you point towards the volleyball

Ushijima’s eyes stuck to it again

“I’m really sorry for stealing it! One of my assignments was to paint on a round object and the basketball was too rough while the baseball was too small!”

you clasp your hands for forgiveness and in the back of his head Ushijima was fascinated by how your personality seemed to match the vibrant paintings so perfectly

it was as if you were one of the paintings as well— he thought

“I just borrowed it really! You can definitely take it back and I’ll wash it if you’d like.”

the thought of washing away the masterpiece on the ball made Ushijima’s brows furrow

(although he never liked when the volleyballs they used were dirty, it irked him to even think of washing the one Semi was holding)

“What?! Definitely not, it’d be such a waste!” Tendou conveys the club’s mutual thoughts, all of them nodding along

“And we have a whole cart of volleyballs to practice with yknow? You keeping this one wouldn’t hurt.”

“Here.” Semi shoves the ball back to your chest

((and secretly it displeases Ushijima how roughly the ball was handled))

“Eh? But really I didn’t even ask you guys first if I could have one before taking it...” —Tendou only shakes his head defiantly with his hands on his hips, not willing to take back the volleyball in your hands

“Really, you should keep it.. umm Painter-san. We could never take your artwork away from you.”—Goshiki says barely above a whisper

and although you’re in awe at the club’s thoughtfulness, the guilt was still gnawing in the back of your head— wanting to give the volleyball to its rightful owner

so you glance and notice how their tall captain was silent— eyes staring straight into the volleyball in your arms and an idea pops in your head

“Ushijima-san, would you like to keep it? Think of it as a makeshift trophy of sorts, by your guys’ new biggest fan, Y/N.”

and his eyes snap up to yours, scanning to see if there was any trace of hesitation in them

the answer was clear as day to the rest of his teammates really

ever since you held the volleyball, their captain’s gaze hasn’t torn away from it

again like a shy child, this time staring a the last piece of candy— waiting for the okay to have it

“Yes, I would love to keep it.”

immediately his large hands carefully reach out for it

—a soft smile mirroring your large and bright one as you hand it to him

“I’ll be sure to keep it in my trophy case...” he lingers for a little bit before continuing his sentence

“And if you could please teach me how to properly care for and clean it? I would appreciate it very much.”

your eyes bug out as Tendou snickers uncontrollably at the side

“ushijima you sly dog” he says under his breath

all you could think of was how blunt the captain was, a deep blush stark on your cheeks

“Umm, yeah definitely! I can show you um.. when?”

“Tomorrow after practice would be the best if you are available.”

“For sure, Ushijima-san! I can wait by the gym after class.”

in your head you were thinking— the volleyball was varnished just a wipedown with a wet rag would be enough to keep it really

but as you stare the larger man in front of gaze gingerly at the volleyball, as if it was made of glass—

maybe he didn’t need to know that fact right away…, you decided

“Okay.” the same warm feeling floods through as he caresses each patch, longingly lingering at each silhouette

—after that it wasn’t just in a blue moon would Ushijima have those thoughts he never gave attention to before

as often as he saw you and your paintings he would think of thoughts like love and family

and sometimes—he noticed— he saw you in them with it

bonus— but thoughts are just thoughts really, would Ushijima ever actually act on them?

a/n. when i say ushijima is the loml i mean USHIJIMA👏 IS THE LOVE 💖❤️💕 OF MY LIFE 🗣

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons

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pathos-logical · 5 years

Text

One Picture, a Thousand Words

Roman is a wonder that cannot be put to words, Logan a marvel that ink cannot capture. They try anyway.

Hoo, this sure was a labor of love! Love because I love @bleepblopbloop56 with all my heart and labor because HOLY HECK WAS THIS HARD TO WRITE. But never mind any of that, because HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my friend!!! I absolutely adore you, and I hope your year is as fantastic as you are!!!

Trigger warnings: Food mention; a joking mention of hallucinations. I think that’s it, but please tell me if I need to add something!!

There are a thousand words Logan could use to describe Roman. He would pull a Shakespeare and invent a thousand more if it meant finding a word that could accurately chronicle the tapestry of Roman, all colorful patches and carefully stitched seams. But Logan is no artist, and his words seem an inadequate medium.

Beautiful, he thinks and immediately discards. That is too obvious, the truth of it plain to see. Lovely is- better. More intimate. But too soft, perhaps, for Roman’s flame-edged hair, the bronze of his skin and the steel in his spine.

He has tried countless words, none of them quite right. Larger-than-life. (And no, his charisma and magnetic smile absolutely did not excuse the way he didn’t seem to know how to shut up.) Captivating. (Roman did have a way with words, when he wasn’t being an idiot.) Extraordinary. (He was quite the artist and actor.) Brilliant. (Again, Roman was rather intelligent when it came down to it.) Perfect. (Technically impossible. But.)

All those words he longs to say, not one spoken aloud.

(Or- once. Alone in his room, he had tried the shape of mine on his mouth, thought about how it tasted on his lips and imagined the look in Roman’s eyes if he ever dared to say it in front of him. Once, and never again.)

Oh, he wishes. But Logan has always been better with words on the page than to other people.

Well, he thinks, looking down at the piece of paper in his hands, I suppose that’s what this is for. His eyes rove over the paper, skimming over phrases without really taking them in. If he reads it he’ll try to fix it, and at this point there’s too much of his heart in the words for him to change them.

He looks at the last paragraph. It’s the kind of declaration he sneers at in the romance novels Roman so adores, the kind of thing he would’ve sneered at barely years ago. But Roman always did have a way of making him question things he’d taken for postulates- himself included.

I tried, over the course of this letter, to pin down what exactly about you has drawn me so irrevocably into your orbit and left me floundering in unfamiliar space. However, as the length of this might indicate, I soon discovered that I could not.

You know me. It is very rare that I find myself lost for words. But I find myself unable to find the correct words to describe you, or even the correct words. Not because I have run out of things to say, or even because you have left me speechless, but because I could use a whole dictionary of love letters and fail to find the words that capture the way your eyes shine in the light when you laugh at your own jokes, and all the cliches in the world cannot express how I feel about every mundane, breathtaking thing about you.

But despite all that, I have three words for you, Roman, and I suppose there is no better day to deliver them than today (as of the day you receive this, at least).

I love you.

Roman has a sketchbook no one but him has ever seen.

The drawings are all in pencil, and Roman aches to paint them, to mix his colors until he finds shades that will truly bring them to life. But Logan is a peculiar kind of monochrome, with his navy hair and black polo shirts and countless blue ties, and Roman fears that no amount of paint could do that justice.

It’s undeniable that the warm brown of Logan’s eyes is a color he itches to find in a colored pencil, that the almond of his skin is one he longs to see redden at his touch. But those aren’t the things he really wants to capture when he puts pencil to paper anyway. No, when he draws Logan, his focus is on the subtle gleam that comes to his eyes when he speaks about something he’s passionate about, the curl of his lips when his emotionless facade breaks at some stupid comment Roman made.

Roman wishes he could show Logan the notebook, sometimes, the days when his longing overpowers his surety in the fact that it could never be reciprocated. He imagines coffee-colored eyes looking through the pages with delight, taking in the devotion clear in the meticulous lines. He pictures the hands he’s spent hours perfecting skimming over paper, taking care not to smudge the lead.

(He sees disgust settling in the curve of Logan’s lips and rejection showing in the set of his shoulders, and he pushes away the thought and hides his notebook under his pillow, pretends that he hasn’t memorized the shape of Logan’s smile.)

But he doesn’t think of any of that today. It’s Valentine’s Day, and Roman is dressed for it. He dons his armor that he definitely did not spend a whole two hours deliberating on and sets out the door armed with a kind of desperate false bravado, which is immediately undermined by how he jumps at his roommate Patton’s encouraging “go get ‘im, tiger!” shouted through the walls.

Still scowling at the door behind him, Roman briefly debates how desperate a text will make him sound before deciding, screw it.

Hey, we still on for lunch at Cream of the Cup?

The reply is prompt, as always, and Roman makes a futile attempt at smothering the smile he knows is blossoming across his lips.

>> Of course.

I’ll see you then!

Roman can so do this.

Virgil I can’t do this

>> why not?? youve been planning this for weeks, youll bbe fine

actually, knowing you, orobably months

Jfkdkfkfkfk

it’s

LOGAN

>> im aware, weve only veen best friends for years now

…

if yoy send a long rambling text ahout how wonderful logan is and how you dont deserve hkm im gonna lose it

roman i swear to god

HE’S JUST SO SMART AND AMAZING AND I’M JUST ME I DON’T DESERVE HIM AND WHAT IF I SCREW THINGS UP BETWEEN US FOREVER AND HE HATES ME OR WHAT IF IT’S AWKWARD I’M OKAY WITH JUST BEING FRIENDS REALLY HE PROBABLY DOESN’T EVEN LIKE ME THAT WAY ANYWAY I MEAN WHY WOULD HE

Whoops sorry

>> youre not

I’m not

But

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

>> okay roman, listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once.

first of all, cut it with the self-deprecating crap. one, that’s my thing. and two, I WILL pull a patton and fight you.

stop doubting yourself, it doesn’t suit you

I might not have known you as long as I’ve known logan, but I know

I can see you typing. shut up.

maybe I haven’t known you as long as I’ve known Logan, but I do know you’re a good guy, and you /clearly/ love him

KSKFKFKKFKGD W H A T

>> yes, everyone knows, no, Logan does not, LET ME FINISH

it means a LOT to him that you actually read the articles he sends you about mars rovers at 3 am and that you don’t tell him he’s annoying for infodumping about alpha centauri or whatever star system he’s planning to go to and that you deal with his hypocrisy about sleep schedules and his general inability to do emotions

also, knowing him for years means I know his type, and trust me, you’re it

and even if by some miracle he doesn’t like you back, you guys are too close to ruin your friendship. okay? so however this ends, I promise you’ll still be friends

>> But

ROMAN

listen, you don’t tune him out when he starts babbling, and he does the same for you. he loves listening to your rants about art theory, he goes to every single one of your shows, and he started learning Spanish just to impress you. yes, he’s learned more phrases than just insults, he’s just been hiding it so he can surprise (aka impress) you later

and roman? he really really does value your friendship. you know that we’ve known each other since forever, so you know I mean it when I say that I’ve NEVER seen him get so close to someone this quickly.

and… you’ve been good for him too, okay? he’s not really the type to get lonely, but that’s just because he gets so tied up in his giant brain he forgets there are people in the outside world to talk to. but it really is important to him that you’re always there for him, and… I can tell you right now that he’s told me how much he appreciates you for it

after all that? I’d say he loves you too, dude. go for it.

you can talk now

Holy heck you DO love me

>> eh

Holy HECK

Wait

Did you turn on autocorrect just to yell at me???

>> Only for you, babe.

Please never do that again

yeaj that was oncredibly unconfortable

now GO GET YOUR MAN

Roman, for all his theatrics about love at first sight and true love’s kiss, hadn’t mentioned Valentine’s Day plans once in the weeks leading up to it. Then, exactly one week ago, he’d texted Logan with a simple request to meet up at a nearby cafe. Logan knew him too well to miss the possible connotations of such an invitation. But it was entirely possible that this was merely meant to be an outing between two friends. A platonic outing.

A platonic outing where there was barely room to stand, forget sit. Logan curses under his breath. He’d decided for once to not show up fifteen minutes early, as that would only give him more time to second-guess himself, especially as Roman was notorious for being chronically late. But he had failed to account for the obvious fact that, it being both a Saturday and Valentine’s Day, the usually quiet cafe is filled to the brim with couples ordering the heart-themed specials and kissing and generally clogging the air with sweet words and PDA. And no, Logan is not irrationally annoyed about this, he’s just worried he won’t be able to secure an empty table for him and Roman.

But just as the thought crosses his mind, he catches a familiar head of fiery hair at a table against the wall, bent over his phone and apparently completely absorbed by whatever he was looking at. An incredulous “Roman?” slips from his lips unbidden, because- well, Roman had once nearly been late to the first show he was the lead in. But there he was, reserving a table at exactly 12:30 with a croissant in front of him. Maybe today really was a day for miracles.

He watches with amusement as Roman jumps and looks up at the sound of his name. His face lights up as soon as he registers who it is, and Logan abruptly goes from amused to filled with some kind of fluttery warmth he doesn’t want to quantify.

“Logan!” Roman exclaims, hurriedly tucking his phone away. “Hey! How are you?” His smile beams out like the sun, but it dims upon Logan’s next words.

“Not well, unfortunately,” Logan informs him gravely. “I fear I have been having severe auditory and visual hallucinations. For example, I am currently experiencing one so vivid that I believe I am conversing with a friend in a cafe when I know that there is no chance of him being here yet.” Maybe Logan should feel bad about the way Roman’s expression morphs from worry to alarm to overblown outrage, but the challenging gleam in his eyes arrests him as surely as that of of Roman’s heart-shaped studs, and he can’t bring himself to regret it.

“Hey, I’m not always late!” he protests so loudly several patrons turn to look at him, perhaps expecting a scene.

Logan can’t help the smirk that creeps across his face as he slides into the seat opposite Roman, surreptitiously tucking a navy blue folder besides him. Thank goodness for Roman being typically Roman and reserving a booth that could seat six for a party of two. “Roman. Once Virgil and I deliberately told you to meet up an hour after we were actually supposed to meet so that when you inevitably showed up late, it would only be by five minutes rather than fifty. And the very idea that you could be on time for something went so flagrantly against the laws of the universe that the universe struck back by making your car break down, and you missed the meeting entirely.”

“Is that what happened?” Roman asks, looking so genuinely gobsmacked that Logan can’t help the snicker that escapes him. Roman’s expression flips to one of self-satisfaction, and Logan tries to ignore the little burst of fondness in his chest at the sight. Even if the rest of today goes horribly, at least he can savor this easy banter between them.

And banter they do, debating over whether Logan’s physics professor or Roman’s marketing professor is more inept before commiserating over the “perpetual hell week” that is college. They bounce from the disappointing latest installment of one of Roman’s favorite series to a terrible documentary on aliens Logan had found on a “science” channel (“It’s called a having a basic grasp of eighth-grade geometry, Roman- which, unlike this nine-thousand year old civilization, these morons have clearly never achieved!”) to every little thing in between, their food forgotten in front of them.

It’s nothing special, technically- they’ve been friends for years now, and they often have talks about everything and nothing. But today Logan can convince himself that an electric current is charging the air between them, flushing Roman’s cheeks and lighting up his eyes as Logan is drawn in, helpless against his magnetism.

There’s no decisive moment where Logan thinks, this is it. There’s just Roman, his laughter like bells in the breeze, and Logan, gazing at him like he’d put the stars in the sky.

“Roman,” he says. That’s it- Roman.

Roman is still giggling at his rendition of the student who’d spilled their coffee on the drama professor on the first day, but he sobers at whatever look is on Logan’s face. “Hey- you good, Lo?”

The nickname catches at something in Logan’s chest, pulls it open so the next words come just a little harder, just a little easier. “Roman,” he says again, looking down. “I do not wish to… ruin the mood, but I have something to confess.”

(He’s looking down, so he misses the way Roman jumps at the last word.)

But when he meets Roman’s eyes, open and curious, Logan’s confidence abandons him. He exhales slowly in an attempt to regain some of the feeling from before, like the memory of Roman’s voice will fortify his. But all that comes out is: “I wrote- would you-”

Logan’s throat fails him entirely, something a little like dread and a little like hope clogging it up. Without another word, he slides the folder he had kept tucked at his side to Roman. When Roman raises a curious eyebrow, Logan simply smiles- a quick, brittle thing- and motions for him to open it.

Earlier, the noise in the cafe had distracted Logan, had made him frown when it rose over Roman’s voice. But suddenly it all fades into the background, the chatter of voices and clatter of spoons receding in favor of the thwip of the folder opening, the little breath Roman takes when he reads the first two words.

Dimly, Logan thinks he must have used up all his words in the letter. His fingers lay still at his sides, mind is utterly blank as he watches Roman read it. But his heart is pounding loud enough that for an absurd second, he’s sure Roman can hear it in the sudden quiet.

Logan waits for a minute, maybe five. He thinks he’d wait for Roman forever if he asked. But Roman doesn’t make him wait that long, because when he looks up his eyes are wet with tears, and when Logan uselessly opens his mouth- to do what? His voice certainly hasn’t returned- Roman lurches forward, clumsy in a way Logan has never known him, and seals their lips with a kiss.

And when they finally draw apart, Logan thinks he’s regained his words (or maybe just these three), because they force themselves out of his lips like they’ve been waiting to do so since Logan said Roman’s name. And Roman, his face a study in the kind of shock and delight that can only come from a thought-to-be-hopeless dream coming true, returns them.

#logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #my writing #a whole dictionary of love letters

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He’s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #normal au #reunion #enemies to friends to lovers #getting together #mysnowbazfic

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onepunchmiss · 5 years

Text

OPM S2e11 Live Blog

“The Varieties of Pride”

I left work an hour early just to watch the episode sooner and of COURSE I GOT STUCK IN TRAFFIC FOR AN HOUR because the universe BE LIKE THAT. But guys holy shit this is the second to last episode of the season. So much shit is about to go down. I’m eerily calm and concerning myself soooo uh without further ado I’mma WATCH

As always I’m watching from the perspective of someone up to date on the manga and web comic!

Ok so we’re picking up exactly where we left off, but I mean how could we not, really? And Garou still looks beautiful and I still cri evr tim KEK Glasses looks SO out of place like his fists arent even raised when everyone else is pointing a weapon ar Garou like dude?? Every time Garou laughs I gain a year of life btw, also god damn he’s really drawn SO WELL here, pls pls pls treat Genos with the same respect my bby boy pls

“Where are the S class heroes” oh dear be careful what you wish for…………………. asdfghjkl “any kid who heard you would be so let down” IDK GAROU ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT. ARE YOU. ohohohOH OH OH THE STAIRCASE!!! THE CRUEL STAIRCASE!! AH ok opening theme who it gon b this week

ASDFGHJKL A CHIBI GAROU IN THE OPENING IM IN LOVE

Oh no these flashbacks are going to be heartbreaking, but at the same time I cant not see a bunch of Geryuganshoops asdfghjkl ohhh oh no Garou no Garou is literally me I was that child this is personal and it hurts stopppp I just wanted Wile E Coyote to catch road runner once JUST ONCE I was SO that kid im- also what the hell kind of show is ‘Justice man’ why does the monster sound so sympathetic like, IM JUST TRYING TO STOP OCEAN POLLUTION TOO yall fuck just Justice Fire Kick me to the face too i guess

AAAAAAAAA IM SCREAMING GO MY BOY KICK ASS THIS IS LIKE THE EXACT MOMENT WHERE GAROU OFFICIALLY EARNED MY COMPLETE RESPECT IN THE FIRST PLACE THEY THINK THEY GOT HIM AND HES JUST LIKE WELL ACTUALLY FUCK YOU IMMA POWER UP BITCH AND I AM LIVING SEEING IT IN MOTION MY BOY asdfghjkl”like im not allowed to have one? talk about discrimination” son I love you THIS IS AMAZING THIS WHOLE THING IS AMAZING

BEHOLD the exact moment u shit ur metal pants, fool

IM JUST SCREAMING THIS WHOLE TIME I DONT HAVE WORDS THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ANIMATION IVE SEEN ALL SEASON JC STAFF DOESNT SUCK THEY JUST POURED 100% OF THEIR TIME INTO THIS FIGHT

WHOAH calm the fuck down there smiley face man?? I’m SO GLAD they made him look crazy a bit cause I honestly didn’t even notice him just nonchalantly suggest to kill him the first read through, holy shit fuck ?????

THIS IS JUST SO GOOD IM SCREAMING HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I WANT TO SCREENSHOT EVERY SINGLE FRAME ITS ALL SO GOOD

WHAT IS THIS

A GLASSES FLASHBACK

I THOUGHT IT WAS AN OMAKE OR???

WHAT IS THIS

WHAT

OH MY GOD HIS VOICE?? IM,,, BABY NO AND SAITAMA??????????? WHAT THE FUCK AM I WITNESSING RIGHT NOW

AND THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT LIMITS ST O P

SADFHGJKLKJMHNGBFVCXCVBRGHNTYMJ<KUMJYNTBRVECWRVTBYUMIKMYNTBRVECVBTNYUMIYNTBRVECVRBTNYUM

I CANT BELIEVE THEY PUT THAT IN THERE WHAT THE SHIT FUCK

OH GOD

I THINK IM GONNA LITERALLY CRY THIS SCENE GETS ME EVERY TIME I READ IT LIKE I JUST REREAD IT THIS MORNING BUT-----

oh no its happening. im crying ok oh dear lord

I just…. love him so much … holy shit… ah the laugh, +1 more year life, and again oh no im becomming immortal ahhhh

ASDFGHJKL FUCK “YOU GOT ISSUES BROTHER” GODDAMNIT U READ MY MIND GAROU PLS

Oh my god. The voice sound effect here. just everything about this. Oh my god. I’m so shook holy shit shit ----- ‘Oh your still alive’ WELL ILL TELL U WHAT I AM LIVING RN SO YEAH oh no and Garous little slightly heartbroken hand gesture as Tareo screams and runs and then he just starts limping away gasping for water and then

ASDFGHUJIKL GENOS

WAIT CAN SOMEONE GIVE GAROU WATER FIRST THO

I DONT KNOW IF IM EXCITED OR HEARTBROKEN RIGHT NOW HELP the MUSIC is so INTENSE and GENOS LOOKS SO COOL IM SO FULL OF EMOTIONS AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM IS CONFLICTING OH NO

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT THIS ANIMATION HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD OH MY GOD EVEN THE STILLS OF THE SMEAR FRAMES LOOK FUKKIN AMAZING GOD DAMNIT

wow ok saitama and king right ok gonna pause and give my heartrate a second to come down holy shit. I’m gonna watch and rewatch this episode 2000000 times I know it oh my god. phew. ok. ok. moving on

Saitama just keeling over and SCREAMING is me 24/7 HOLY- omg I’m dying thank you opm for being a glorious mix of BADASS and PEAK COMEDY ASDFGHJKL WHAT IS THAT FACE SAITAMA this is so good. How long have they been there playing games anyway?? Aww King being concerned for Genos’s safety thats so sweet?? Also Saitama worrying very subtly I love them so much I cri

AH THERE GOES MY HEART RATE AGAIN OK asdfghjkl THE watchdog Man movements!!! LOOK!! SO !! COOL!! Ouch ok I love seeing Garou smile but not while pinned to a tree like that no nope I dont like it not one bit oh no

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THERE IT IS THERE IT IS THERE IT IS THERE IT IS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ohhey its flowey undertale

ASDFGHJKL OK Genos looks so cool I just IM so GLAD im just so happy I cant Also IM LOVING ANIME GAROU WITH THE RED its just SO GOOD phew phew asdfghjk just EVERY SINGLE SHOT OF GAROU IS SO PERFECT EVERY. SINGLE. ONE

BANG ASDFGHJKL BANG OH MY GOD I WAS SO CAUGHT UP I FORGOT wtf this music is so funky i love it??? Holy crap???

This looks soo good I am alive I am living is this the thrill of life ?? ? Oh my god. This music is killing me this is so intense, I don’t want it to end here. Bang is also drawn SO BEAUTIFULLY here everyone in the whole episode is WAIT

WAIT

I DO NOT REMEMBER THIS FLASH BACK

THIS IS NEW

OH NO

ASDFGHJKL GODDAMNIT SOURFACE

One, Murata, JC, why did you do that. that was cruel. It hurts. i wasn't prepared. I mean im never prepared but like ESPECIALLY not for that just tear my heart out just tear it out i dont even need it please just JUST

oh no, you cant end the episode like that

please come back

wh-what about my favorite dopey bird man

please

wha

what am I looking at what is this end card “The wiping of the disciple’s butt” is that really how thats translated?? What a fukkin roller coaster

So this was by far my favorite episode of the season to date. I know a lot of people were worried about the animation quality and just overall quality JC staff has been putting out thus far, but I think it’s clear why the rest of the season has been average majority of the time. They spent. All the time. And budget. on. This. Episode. Every Character looked beautiful. The animation was fluid, not too blurry, not too flashy, well paced, and with high quality art. I just. Oh my god. I’m in denial right now that the season only has One episode left. Just 24 minutes more. Until WHO KNOWS when. Whos gonna cry with me next week? pls im gonna need like 100 shoulders my weak heart. ahh shitttttt

Side Note: DID YALL HEAR ABOUT THE OPM GAME COMING OUT??? I swear I JUST had a conversation with @joyandeggs last week about how they could make a game and what it should/could/would entail, AND LO, I HAVE BEEN BLESSED

June 2019 is a BLESSED month for me regarding OPM the past few weeks have been an OVERLOAD

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball Z 125

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes, a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

Every great saga has a beginning, and this one starts with a simple boar.

Did our porcine friend realize what his actions would bring forth on this day? Did he know that the Driver’s Ed episode of Dragon Ball Z would be born from his decision to chase after a woman walking home from the Mt. Paozu IGA? Maybe, but I’m more inclined to think that he just wanted some of the potato wedges Chi-Chi picked up from the deli.

Meanwhile, Goku’s training for the androids. Well, not at this exact second. Right now, he’s watching clouds sexually harass other clouds. Cloud Master Roshi belongs in Cloud Jail.

As Chi-Chi hoofs it back home after narrowly escaping the boar, she sees the couple from the other mountain driving home in their car.

When Chi-Chi gets home she’s greeted by her husband and son, who toss their filthy training gear in front of her and head for the tub.

And that tears it. She bawls out Goku for not driving her to the store like other husbands, and when he says he doesn’t have a license she tells him to go get one. Oh, and he can take Piccolo with him, since his useless green ass doesn’t have one either, smh.

Oh, and if they fail, she won’t cook for them. I’m not sure why that should matter to Piccolo, since he only drinks water, but maybe Chi-Chi makes some really tasty water.

So the next day the boys go to the “institute” to take driver’s ed. Piccolo doesn’t know how he got roped into this, but he doesn’t seem too interested in backing out, either.

What makes this episode a classic is that they’re both wearng civlian clothing for this aventure. Goku is dresed in what I like to call “Stealth Fred Flintstone Cosplay.” Piccolo, of course, is dressed in blue jeans and two shirts. One is purple with long sleeves, and one is yellow with the words “POST BOY” written on them.

In the dub, Goku asks him where he got such a ridiculous outfit, and Piccolo replies “Your wife got them for me... out of your closet.” That’s not in the Japanese version. Really, it doesn’t make a lot of sense for Goku to own this outfit, since Piccolo’s at least 18 inches taller than him. Then again, Piccolo has Clothes Beam powers, which could also be used to alter clothing to fit other sizes.

Besides, we know he got the hat from Goku, since it has the word “GOKUU” written on it. I think it’s safe to assume that the POST BOY outfit is definitely something Goku owns.

Here come the instructors. They have Capsule Corp. logos on their coats, so I assume this means this whole institute is run by Capsule Corp.

Somewhere in this episode, the old guy says he’s been teaching driver’s ed for 70 years, which puts him somewhere over 90. Personally, I headcanon him as gettng into the driver’s ed game much later in life. His wife divorced him at 53, and he struggled to find new purpose after that, until he got a taste of the driving school life, and he knew he would never be the same. Oh, he tried to get out of this world. But it kept calling him back like a siren song. The fame, the money, the women. He just couldn’t stay away. And by 55, he became a full-time instructor. Now he’s 125 years old.

I don’t know anything about this lady, except that I’m pretty sure she wants to fuck Piccolo in the backseat of a car while it speeds along a highway at 100 miles per hour. I guess Piccolo could use the Multi-Form technique to steer while he does his business in the back, but she doesn’t know that.

Piccolo-- excuse me... I mean Post Boy, has some dificulty with the seat belt.

Did you think I was kidding about this lady? Because I’m not. Back seat. 100 miles per hour. No one at the wheel.

Unfortunately, this car doesn’t have a back seat, so she just floors it and drives really, really aggressively.

EVEN POST BOY IS AFRAID

Meanwhile, the old man can’t even get the door open. I like how the hair on his head turns red, but his mustache and eyebrows don’t.

Goku starts dissociating in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, the Brief family is still amazed by Vegeta’s insane training regimen. I feel like these scenes are really trying to pressure Bulma into getting it on with the guy. “Boy, those Saiyans sure do have tough bodies, eh, Bulma? Such wonderfully tough bodies. Oh, and he’s living in the spaceship now. That’s how dedicated he is. You know, that spaceship would be a great place to have sex in, just throwing that out there. You could scream as loud as you wanted and your parents would never be able to hear it.”

Anyway, here’s Vegeta doing some pointless bullshit that isn’t driver’s ed. Let’s move on.

I guess Gohan’s studying while the boys are learning to drive. Of course, he can’t concentrate knowing that Piccolo’s running around in the Post Boy outfit. Check out this sweet fan art Gohan drew for this episode.

Then Icarus shows up and Gohan decides to sneak out of the house to watch his dad and Piccolo driving. I thought Episode 118 was Icarus’ last appearance, but I guess not. Pretty sure this is it, though.

See, I told you this guy has been in the business for 70 years. What’s got him flustered is that Goku can’t seem to remember anything he tells him. I mean things like “Push the pedals to make it go,” and “Welcome to driving school.”

What’s with this guy’s neck?

I think he was trying to get Goku to back into a parking place, but he ended up zooming forward instead.

Then they end up on the highway, and inside a tunnel going down the wrong lane. Now, in the dub, the guy tells Goku to “give him the wheel” I think. So Goku chops it off so he can give it to him. In the original script, he keeps saying “Cut in the steering handle”, which seems like an odd choice of words.

The end result is the same: Goku’s car flies out of control and lands in a body of water. The instructor tells him it’ll take him three years to pass the course, and Goku protests that he can’t wait that long, on account of the androids.

Later on, Goku seems to have gotten the hand of shifting the gear, but he still doesn’t grasp going slowly. Post Boy sees him zip past and thinks it’s a race.

Nearby, Gohan and Icarus show up in time to see this unfold.

The lady seems genuinely impressed by Post Boy’s off-road driving stunts. The tragic thing about this story is that Post Boy seems to have mastered this skill, but he never gets credit for it in the form of a license.

Anyway, one thing leads to another and now Goku and Post Boy are wanted for manslaughter. Just kidding, the instructors are fine.

Later, they have to drive around on public roads, and if they screw around again, they’ll get expelled.

To their credit, both of them seem to be doing a lot better this time.

Goku waves at a bus full of school kids, but the old man deducts a point for taking his hand off the wheel. When Goku protests, he takes another point off for taking his eyes off the road.

Then Goku slams on the brakes, causing Piccolo to rear-end him. Everyone’s confused, but the reason he did it is because...

The bus ahead of him got caught in... uh, an avalanche? Of water?

It’s going to fall off the road and over a cliff, is the point.

Goku flies through the windshield of his car to help...

... while Post Boy elbows the door off of his car. With authority!

They catch the bus,then Goku heads over to shoot falling debris so it won’t hit anything.

Post Boy helps too. So, a second ago, both of them needed to hold the bus, and now Post Boy is holding it one-handed. Why did Goku even leave the bus if Post Boy could hold it and shoot up at the same time? This episode proves that power levels are bullshit.

The instructors are astonished.

Goku waves goodbye to the kids while Post Boy stands with his back turned, all stoic-like. A watchful protector. A silent guardian. A Post Boy.

Goku apologizes for the disturbance, but the instructors are all smiles. Goku asks if they can resume their practice, but the old man refuses.

As he puts it, Goku and Post Boy are such skilled men that there’s no point in them learning from a driving school. They hardly need licenses when they can fly, right?

Now, in the dub, they kind of take a different approach with the punchline. The instructor praises their rescue of the bus, and their amazing powers, but he makes it clear that these two knuckleheads have no business behind the wheel of a car, so they’ll never get their licenses, ever. But so what, right? They can fly, so what difference does it make?

Either way.... I bet Chi-Chi won’t like this...

Yeah, I called it.

Why is Icarus in the house?

Sometimes, you have to have your heroes lose. It builds character, and it makes them feel more like people. It also makes it even more inspirational when they triumph. That is the lesson of this episode. Yes, Post Boy failed today, but he’s not going to dwell on his failures. He’s going to pick himself back up and keep living his life.

Anyway, Chi-Chi passes out from the shock of it. No, seriously, why is Icarus allowed in the house but Post Boy isn’t?

Anyway, from here, we flash forward three years and.... holy crap, I never noticed before, but they have a car in this shot! A few dozen episodes after this, we’ll see Goku driving, and Chi-Chi explaining how he got his license, but I never noticed that this very episode made it clear that Goku went back and tried again. That’s awesome.

It’s the morning of May 12, and it’s time for the fateful Android invasion. Chi-Chi offers the boys a box lunch for the day, but Goku declines.

No, Goku’s taking an early lunch today, around 10am. His meal: a couple of no-good androids. Big, marshmallow-y androids.

This is it. The waiting is over, the future is now. The Z-Fighters will either change history or they will become history. Z stands for the end, but not yet.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #post boy #trunks saga #piccolo #goku #chi chi #gohan #vegeta #bulma #dr brief #bulma's mom #icarus

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pinkykitten · 6 years

Text

I can be Loved

Marvel

Stephen Strange x plus size & fire power! female reader

Warnings: some curse words, violence, reader being self conscious, death, also i did not re-read this cuz i made this too dang long!

Specifics: death, sadness, romance, comedy, Avengers: Infinity War, man vs man, fire power, pictures, videos, plus size reader, race neutral reader

People: Stephen Strange, you, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Wong, Peter Parker, Ebony Maw, Black Dwarf, Peter Quill, Drax, Mantis, Thanos, Gamora (mentioned), Thor (mentioned).

Words: 4,229

Requested: By anonymously Hi doll❤️ I love your writing please keep doing what you are doing! Do you write for chubby girls or plus size cause I live for that!!!! If so could I request a plus size reader, where she is with doctor strange and many think she is all scrawny and can’t stand up for herself but she proves them wrong by fighting like a bad ass like Thanos makes fun of her and tries to degrade her but she is just too cool and she fights along side Dr. Strange so fluff and angst cause she reacts to his death

Authors Note: hi there anon! thank u so much for ur kind words. i do write for plus size beautiful woman! i luved this request and it makes me kinda sad to not see a lot of fanfics for dr. strange cuz he is such a cool character and it is the benedict cumberbatch. i went a lil bit overboard with this its just i really lived for this request also i made the reader have fire power because i wanted her to be powerful hehehe. but there is a lot to read so im srry. i loved writing this i didnt reread this so there may be mistakes but my back, fingers, legs hurt so yeah. thnx for requesting and i hope u enjoy this. remember i luv to hear ur guys thoughts.

The world as you know it was going to change, one way or another it was going to either perish or fight.

You all looked outside. The wind was strong and the noises of people screaming was all you could hear. Your heart racing in fear you consciously grasped Stephen, your fiance’s hand.

As Tony opened the door many citizens raced the opposite way of..something. Some falling, some terrified, like you.

“Y/n, I should go see what it is. You stay here,” Dr. Strange ordered you, letting go of your hand.

“No Steph, where you go I go. I can fight too you know.” With that you walked ahead of him following Tony.

Stephen quickly grabbed Wong’s attention. “Whatever you do, you keep y/n alive. Alright?”

Wong saw the seriousness in his friends eyes and just nodded.

As you turned the corner a ship that was a circle with a hole in the middle landed on New York City grounds. You gasped loudly at how large it was. This was no human tech, this was some alien crap.

Stephen, Wong, and Bruce followed you and Tony. Suddenly, a blue beam appeared and out came a skinny alien guy that looked like Voldemort, and another alien guy except he was huge and kinda looked like a dung beetle.

Your group walked to them, curious expressions.

The skinny alien then started to say how they were Thanos children, and that you all were about to die from them and it was a privilege.

You turned around all sassy to Bruce, “Is this guy serious?”

“I’m sorry Earth is closed today,” shouted Tony Stark to the alien men. “You better pack it up and get out of here.”

The skinny alien then focused his attention on Stephen, “Stone keeper. Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not, I speak for myself!” Stephen using his magic to maybe scare off the aliens and show that he was not playing. (god that part that he does that hand thing is kinda hot......anyways enjoy reading) “You’re trespassing on this city and on this planet.”

Wong after him brought out his magic.

Just then the huge alien was walking towards your group, hitting his giant hammer on anything he sees.

You tapped your foot impatiently, “hey guys are we gonna do anything? I really don’t think this guy likes us!”

Well since he was big you all then looked at...Bruce...well you all wanted the Hulk. You all stared at him awaiting for the green monster to rage on out. Instead, Bruce was having trouble getting him out, “c’mon man, c’mon.”

He was still pushing, and pushing, and pushing some more. Everyone awaiting, and staring impatiently.

“Ugh men!” You stated placing a hand on your plush, curvy hip.

“Wheres your guy?” Tony Stark asked looking as if Bruce lied to him.

“I don’t know we’re sorta been having a thing.”

“There’s no time for a thing. Thats the thing right there, lets go.”

The big alien man was coming closer and closer. Then he started running towards you all. You quickly turned your whole body into fire, your skin turning orange, and your hair turning into flames. Your eyes a bright sun orange (kinda like flame princess from at). “Step away boys.”

“I love it when she does that,” Stephen said as he stared all amazed at you.

(not my art! do not own!)

You stood in front of the massive alien, ready to shoot him with some fire balls.

(TONY’S COOL MOVE YASSSSSSSSSSSSSS srry) Tony decided to help as well. He turned his track suit into his Iron man suit. But in a cool way.

He added some blasters to his suit and all of them came out to shoot at the alien. You and Tony shot at the same time making the alien fall back onto the skinny one but surprise surprise, his powers were telekinesis.

He, with the power of his mind moved the other alien harshly to a car.

Tony put his blasters away.

“Holy crap that was frickin amazing!” A excited Bruce yelled, making you turn around and chuckle. “You turning into fire and you, Tony, where’d that come from?”

“Its nano tech, you like it?” Answered Tony, turning around to you all.

“I got to say that was pretty awesome,” you smiled placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony placed a hand on his mouth and gasped, “ooohhh wizard man, how you feel about your fiance touching me and oh wait, yeah, calling me awesome?’

Stephen shook his head and his cloak smacked your hand off Tony’s shoulder, “she was only trying to be nice to you...she calls me better things in bed.”

“Wow,” Tony said.

“Babe! Thats private,” you shouted, laughing at the end.

“Wow, that was so unneeded, like to the point where you didn’t need to do that.” Tony shook his hands, shaking his head.

Suddenly, the skinny alien man used his powers to throw a car at you all. The other worked on it while you and Tony threw it back to him. He used his powers to cut it in half.

Tony then used his boosters to try to fly to him. You used your fire power to fly to him as well. As you tried to fly, Stephen brought you down. “Hey sweetheart, why don’t you stay here, I really don’t think you going over there is such a good idea.”

“Are you serious? Honey, I’m fine.”

Bruce came into the conversation, “yeah y/n, maybe Stephen is right. Maybe this is a little bit too much for you.”

“You know what, I know this isn’t a woman thing because you all let Natasha fight. This is a size thing. Are you all serious? You think I can’t fight cause I’m too big, too fat for the normal superhero.”

Wong then raised his hand and tried to tell you something, but you just ignored him. “Thats fine think what you want to think,” you almost cried, Stephen going to you and saying that thats not it, and of course it wouldn’t be it.

“Y/n, I think you’re the most beautiufl woman on this Earth, and trust me I know you are capable-”

“Save it. I don’t need any of you. I am going to fight, whether you like it or not, and I’m gonna show you all that bigger woman can do things in this world, especially be a superhero!”

Your fire became more intense and you flew next to Tony. The skinny alien was using his powers to throw some of the road on you two. The big alien threw a claw at Tony and this set Tony back.

“Stark!” You shouted. “You are not eleven from Stranger Things, are you?” You raised your eyebrow to the skinny alien. “Thats okay, you look more like the demogorgon.” You blasted flames at both aliens. Dodging one of the punches of the big alien.

The skinny alien threw the fire back onto you. You just chuckled, “You do realize I’m made of fire, right?”

The skinny alien smiled and heaved a huge piece of building onto you.

“Y/n!” Yelled Wong and Stephen. They tried to get to you but they had to fight the skinny alien.

“Ouch!” You quickly burned the piece of building into ashes and saw the skinny alien go to your fiance. “Steph!”

He put Stephen to the wall and placed bricks on him. You knew he wanted that stone. You also knew Stephen placed a spell on it.

“-then I’ll take it off your corpse.” The alien took Stephen and threw him to you.

“Oh my god babe, honey,” you took off your fire power to touch him, carressing his face. “Steph are you okay?”

His cloak brought him up and he nodded to you. He tried to use the time stone but the alien wrapped thorny vines around his arms.

“Let him go!” You try to burn the vines away but its not use, they just keep reappearing. The vines go around his neck and knock him out unconscious.

“Are you serious?” You try to take the vines off of him, they are strong and grab on real tight. “C’mon babe, stupid frickin things get off!”

The alien brings Stephen with him and you fall off the platform. The cloak then takes Stephen away from the vines. You, your fire power ignited, go after him, with the skinny alien following you two.

“Steph I am right here. I got you.”

He then goes by Tony, and you notice Tony fighting with the big alien. You also notice your favorite...SPIDER MAN!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hi sweetheart!” You wave to Peter.

“Hi Ms. L/n!”

“Kid thats the wizard and y/n, get on it,” ordered Tony to Peter.

“On it!”

You flew backwards now, your attention on to the alien behind you. “Go away freak!” You started shooting fire at him, him dodging every time. Peter tried to get the alien but he through a piece of debris at Peter.

“Peter!” You shouted look at his state to make sure he was fine.

“Not cool, yeah Ms. L/n, I’m fine!”

As Stephen was getting away from the alien, the alien used his powers to stop Stephen. By bending the street lights one of the lights caught Stephen by the cloak making Stephen fall out. You tried to catch him but you would of burned him. In that moment you felt defenseless, helpless, unworthy. You couldn’t even do a simple job as saving your future husband. They were all right about you.

Peter came to the rescue and saved Stephen. With a sad face you thanked the young boy for doing something you couldn’t do. You just followed them slowly, until you were lifted in a beam. You tried to hold onto something but it was no use. You were going to die, how did you know this? What use were you, they didn’t need you, nor want you. You were garbage to them. You were garbage to everyone. You tried to shake the self conscious thoughts out of your mind, but you couldn’t. They were eating at you, telling you things that were not true.

Peter tried to hold on with his spider web to Stephen but the skinny alien used his powers to bring Peter up.

You entered the ship with Stephen and ran to hide behind a piece of the inner ship. Watching to see someone come by.

“This is bad,” you thought. “Really bad.”

You meet up unexpectedly with Peter and Tony. You see in the distance the alien is pointing these needle like things to Stephen to get the time stone. The needle things go into his skin and you hear his screams. Tears coming out of your eyes you try to go to him but Tony stops you.

“Don’t blow our cover y/n, we will save him.”

As you all try to think of a plan Peter says, “hey have you guys ever seen a really really old movie called Aliens?”

As the alien is threatening Stephen, you and Tony go behind him ready to blast him away. He turns around to the sound of Tony’s high pitched suit.

The alien uses his power to bring out pieces of the ship to you and Tony. You smirk and say, “have fun in space.”

You and Tony blast a hole in the ship sending him and Stephen flying.

“Steph! Peter get him!”

Peter grabs Stephen with his web and then a new feature of his suit comes out. HE HAS SPIDER LEGS!

“HOLY SH*T THAT IS AMAZING!” You squeal in excitement.

Peter jumps up and brings Stephen in. Tony closes the hole.

You quickly run to Stephen and hug him, “oh my god, I thought I lost you. I’m so happy you’re alive.” You look into his eyes and he looks into yours.

“Sweetheart about earlier, what I was trying to say is that-”

You stand up quickly, the emotions and self conscious feelings interrupting your mind again. “It doesn’t matter right now.” You turn around, shyly placing a hand on your arm and rubbing it. You then mutter as you’re walking away, “I don’t matter.”

Stephen tries to go to you to help you and to make you feel better but Tony places a hand on him to decide where to go.

Stephen thinks Earth but Tony thinks wherever the ship is going. His thinking is he feels wherever this ship is going Thanos must be there, if all of you were to go then it would be an element of surprise. Stephen disagrees in the begging but you agree with Tony.

“If Thanos is going to be there then maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. I mean I know, we have to protect the stone but I don’t think Thanos is awaiting this much of an impact or this much of a plan. I say we go for it.”

The ship lands harshly on a planet named Titan.

A smoke bomb lands between you all and with impact you all go tumbling back.

“What in the world!”

You look up to see some wannabes trying to fight you all. You fly to the one with the funny looking goggles.

He shoots you with his gun while you blast a hole power of fire.

“I call this roast some buns,” you blast harder your fire at him. He dodges it with his cheap looking jet pack thing.

“What are we in The Krusty Krab?” The unknown person jokes along with you.

You all fight with each other and form a circle of whos killing who.

The person you were fighting takes his mask off and point the gun at Tony. “I’m gonna ask you this one time, where is Gamora?”

“Yeah, I’ll do you one better,” Tony took his mask off. “Who’s Gamora?”

And then the alien, buff man talked, “I’ll do you one better, why is Gamora?”

“I’ll do you all one better, why are we still talking about this Gamora?” You stopped your fire powers.

After going back and forth on where this Gamora was at the guy holding Peter mentioned Thanos.

“Wait, what Thanos. Alright let me ask you this one time, what master do you serve?” You looked at Stephen as he questioned the new comers.

“What master do I serve? What am I supposed to say Jesus?” The guy answered back, still holding Peter.

After explaining that you were trying to defeat Thanos as well Peter took off his mask, “We’re the avengers man.”

Just then the alien bug looking girl said, “you’re the one Thor told us about.”

Tony asked, “you know Thor?”

The Missouri guy nodded, “Yeah, tall guy not that good lookin, needed saving.”

You eyes widened, “oh my god Thor’s alive. We may still have a chance...I say we all work together on this. We all want to take down the same purple raisin so we should combine all our powers to become one and destroy Thanos.”

“Thanks for the input lava girl, didn’t know we were all gonna turn into Voltron with all our lions.” The blonde hair man said as his eyes were on you.

You walked up to him with a serious face, “my name is y/n, and I don’t think fragile skin can stand against hot fire.”

You walked to the exit while Tony, Peter, and Stephen giggled. “Gotta love her,” Stephen said as he followed you.

You all came out of the ship and stood on the planet, trying to come up with a plan. You learned all the names of the new people.

Mantis in a low voice asked, “Does your friend do that?”

You all look back to see Stephen moving his head quickly back and forth. You go to him and place a hand on his cheek. He comes back to reality with a startle cry.

“You okay?” You ask worried.

Stephen was using the Time Stone to look into alternate futures. You ask about if you win the battle, but out of the millions of futures he foresaw, he sees that you are all victorious in none but one alone.

Your heart pounds and you squeeze your hand shut, tightly. All in your head was how you are going to die feeling worthless, feeling like you contributed nothing to this world. Tears start to form in your eyes and you walk to a nearby rock, covering yourself from the others.

You wanted to show Stephen that you were not just the girl that got made fun of in high school because of her weight. You’re not someone you can make fun of and push around as if you don’t have feelings. You wanted to come out victorious and explain these terrible feelings you’ve been having lately to Stephen.

Stephen see you crying behind a rock and walks over to you. He kneels down to you and takes your hands in his.

“Sweetheart please talk to me, I’m here for you.”

You wipe your tears, “I know I can’t do many things in life, I can’t prevent many things. But I can try to fight. I know I’m fat and ugly and big but I want to try to prove my worth. To you and to them.” You pointed to the group. “I’m so useless, aren’t I?”

Stephen kissed your hands. “No. You are so much more than those degrading words. Back there I wasn’t trying to make fun of you honey, or bring you down in any way. I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn’t want, I don’t want anything to happen to you. You are so important to me and to so many others, you just don’t see it. You prove to others and to other young girls, just women in general that even if you feel useless and nothing you can make something of yourself, you can save the world. You are beautiful in and out y/n, you are my superhero, my hero, you save me y/n. It will always be that way. I know you are so capable of so many great things and I encourage you to do everything in your power to be you, to be the amazing, powerful, strong you. This means so much to me,” Stephen said holding up your ring on your finger. “It means that soon you and I will be one, we will be husband and wife. We will not just show love but be love. You are my everything y/n, thank you for standing by me sweetheart.”

Your eyes were wide and you were shocked. “I love you so much Steph, thank you for saying those things. I really needed to hear that, you make me so happy Stephen Strange. I can’t wait to get married to you and when I call you mine. Thank you love.”

You sit on his lap, not caring about your weight. Stephen holds you upright with ease, resting his hands on your hips. You trace massage your fingers into his dark locks seeing his ice blue eyes look into yours. You place your hands on his cheeks, taking in his complexion of high cheekbones and milky white skin. You kiss him on the lips lightly, enjoying the presence of him. He deepens the kiss his right hand going to your cheek, making the kiss more passionate. In the middle of the kiss you hear a cough. You and Stephen turn your heads to see a startled Peter, and a annoyed Stark.

“Sorry am I interrupting something, cause we’re in the middle of a war if you haven’t noticed. Anyways, you two, The Notebook, we have a plan.”

Thanos had come to the planet Titan and tried to explain his belief of genocide. It all seemed so crazy to you. You all almost got the gauntlet off but you all especially Peter Quill learned that Gamora was dead. Peter got so mad at Thanos that he punched him knocking him out of the sleep phase he was in with Mantis.

It almost worked the plan, now it was to make it up as you guys went.

You gave this war, this battle everything that you had. All your being your strength, everything.

Everyone was focused and paying attention to other things in their way that you were left with Thanos.

By yourself.

All the struggles in life, all the beat downs, the I’m not good enough have led you up to this moment. You were going to show this monster, this demon that you are good enough and you do deserve love and happiness.

“I, I’m not afraid of you,” you stood proudly in front of this giant.

“No my dear child not of me, but of others.” Thanos said as he walked slowly to you, bringing out his hand to your cheek. You gave him a scowl, scoffing.

“What do you mean?”

Thanos shook his head, “I know your deepest fear. Y/n, you are afraid of how others perceive you, how they think of you. You try your hardest to please others. You are the coward, you say you are not afraid but I know deep down you’re terrified.”

Your eyes were wide, “no, no, no, I’m not like that. Stop.”

“But of course you would be young one, you know how it feels to have your inner demons. To know your not good enough, not even good enough to be in this world.”

You started to shake your head, hands clutching the sides of it trying to not listen to those terrible words that have scarred you. Thanos smiling, knowing that he was getting to you.

“Stop leave me alone you monster,” you cried out.

Stephen came out and stood by you, “Y/n don’t listen to him. Remember what I told you. You are better than this.”

“Leave her be, let her make her own decisions. Y/n you are not happy with how you look, when you see yourself you see disgust. You are not afraid of me.”

You started shaking your head while tears were starting to come out, “no stop, stop!”

Stephen tried knocking sense in you, “Honey don’t listen to him, you are better than this. Remeber how much I care for you.”

Thanos kept going, “you are not afraid of death.”

“STOP! Just stop it!”

“No, you are afraid that no one will love you for who you are.”

At that being said it ignited something in you. All your power, the fire held inside you spilled out with a cry and shriek.

Thanos eyes widened and he used the power stone to be able to go through the fire you ignited.

“You are wrong about me Thanos! I have love, I have someone who loves me! You don’t, you know why, because you KILLED HER!”

Thanos used the power stone again on you to try to destroy you, but you were too powerful and uncontrollable to stop.

All the fire coming out of your body amazed everyone, you were so powerful. With another cry more fire came out making Thanos go behind some boulders to shield himself from the flames. Stephen stared at you with immense respect, amazed at how you fought. After a time your body was drained from all the power you used. Your eyes felt heavy and your body wanted to just lay down. The fire stopped and you were normal now, you fell from up in the air but you were caught in a pair of strong arms.

“I got you sweetheart,” came the soothing voice of your dear love, Stephen.

You smile weakly, “I know.”

Thanos came to you both threatening to kill you. Of course Stephen loved you so much that he gave up the infinity stone to save you.

He risked the whole world to save you.

“Why would you do that?”

Stephen just hugged you tightly like his life depended on it while kissing your forehead, “we’re in the end game now.”

You all waited for a sign, for something to show..anything. You hugged Stephen the whole time, enjoying what you didn’t know was the last moments together.

Suddenly, Mantis disappeared like the wind. Your eyes widened and then it went to worse. Like a list, others started to become ashes right before your eyes, and you could not prevent it from happening. Next came Drax, then Peter Quill. Tony then went and looked at Stephen. Automatically you started crying, “no, please, don’t tell me...no please no.”

Stephen looked so guilty and so pained at you and Tony, “There was no other way.”

Stephen grabbed your face and kept his forehead to your, “Time is so important yet so short. No words can describe how much I love you and will always love you even in death. I love you y/n, I love you.”

Stephen starts to disappear making you sob. Your heart is broken and all that is left is his ashes. You start to feel strange and notice in your hands you are also turning into ashes. Tears start to form in your eyes but you welcome this feeling because no feeling is worse than the feeling you just experienced of losing Stephen.

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adhdusagi · 5 years

Text

Princess Tutu episodes 14-end

I watched the entire second half of the series in one day because I make good life choices

Previously on Princess Tutu Watch:

Okay I can get back to Tokyo Mew Mew now

+++++++++++++++++++

It was a lie, I could NOT

EPISODE, UH, FUCK……… 14! - The Raven

asdklsdhflhdl (google docs stop capitalizing my keysmashes) they’re bringing back “once upon a time there was a man who died”!!!!!! Honestly that might be one of my favorite lines in this whole show

Gotta love the sarcasm in “and they lived happily ever after”

The theme song…… it’s so good

Oh nooooooooooooooo

This scene is literally just the “I’ve got a headache that comes and goes” meme

Fakir you complete dork. You’re all dorks

“Princess Tutu and a crocodile are totally different” you tell ‘im, Mytho

Duck speaks so much more regularly than the other main characters? I mean, there’s Fakir over there like “Shall we go?” and Duck saying things like “I’m gonna be late!” and using “like” and “stuff”... I mean, I know this is the dub, but

Duck why are you using Fakir’s dumb excuses omg

Lilie is just the personification of my negative thoughts

BUT WHAT DID MYTHO TELL FAKIR

Awwwwwwww Duck, no

They’re in a terrifying Raven Dimension with like, ominous music and people wailing in the background and meanwhile Kraehe and the Raven are just having like, a normal conversation

Also, are the white feathers supposed to be like, what’s trapping the Raven there?

Duck please

Wait, Princess Tutu transformed on her own!

Episode 15 - Coppelia

Also, watching Fakir try and fail to stop Mytho from jumping out the window is Pain

Lilie you are a Strange Child

STEALTH DUCK RETURNS!

Oh no?? Fakir doesn’t want to get Mytho in trouble???

alsdfksfh the entire student population is Here For The Drama

Duck don’t yell in the library

Fakir just doesn’t make good decisions

Oooh that doesn’t look good

Sad Kraehe Theme Alert

You “just happened” to do a lot of things, Lilie

Omg Lilie “Want to just happen to go see?”

Rue just shows up to trash talk Fakir for a minute and then leaves

I say as if I’m not in So Much Pain

Yeah! Every single time Princess Tutu transformed in the first season, it was because Drosselmeyer said something, but now she’s transforming on her own!

Oh no Mytho

Also I like how Tutu doesn’t just flat-out say “you don’t actually love him” and instead is just like “how about you try doing things you enjoy with the guy you like instead of giving him Your Actual Heart”

Episode 16 - The Maiden’s Prayer

Wait is Angry Narrator back or did the other narrator just regain the heart shard of Withering Scorn?

Lilie isn’t even interested in the love triangle, she just wants Duck and Pike to fight

Is that Goatette

“So pretty…. What? Oh yeah I meant the flowers of course haha” Duck

Such a serious child

“Love only me, hate everyone else”/“The prince who loves me and me alone”

This child is amazing

It was such a good decision to give Fakir a little sister. A good decision for everyone involved

aslfsdjhklgdlghdjghfdklkdkalh Kraehe told him that Duck would suffer if she knew what was happening with Mytho so Fakir isn’t going to tell herrrrrrrrrr Fakir please don’t internalize that!! You are breaking my heart sir

Oh my god it wasn’t Goatette it was the sloth

*The Can Can plays loudly over a sloth just kinda hangin out*

Episode 17 - Crime and Punishment

This may or may not have been the last episode I watched the first time I watched this show?

“Eyes of truth” huh?

This dumbass child

Femio, from the other side of the school grounds: “DID SOMEBODY SAY ‘PRINCE’????”

What the Fuck are you doing with your hands, kid

Why are you a cow

Honestly as over-the-top as Femio is he is also simultaneously the most realistic middle-schooler in this entire show

Oh my god he’s on probation

I’m sorry I’m just talking about Femio but he’s hilarious

Truly a Grade A Idiot

What is he even doing with his life

I’ve become Lilie

These characters have emotional crises over people saying the stupidest things and tbh I relate to that

Oh dear!

The thing is, Femio would be really annoying in real life, but in a tv show he’s just amusing

Rue’s FACE, she’s so done

I like how Duck can tell which building Rue’s in just by the amount of crows around it

Tbh all the students probably have noticed what’s going on, they just think it’s some kind of weird performance art thing. Wouldn’t be out of character for this school

Fakir and Uzura really are siblings, I love this

The best part about this episode is it’s this completely ridiculous person unintentionally getting in the middle of everybody’s emotional issues

“I feel kinda like something happened, and kinda like it didn’t” Duck you are absolutely correct

And of course the Aquarium is good once again

Episode 18 - The Wandering Knight

Incidentally, how old are these kiddos? We know Mytho is older than Duck, so Fakir and Rue probably are too?? But like, probably only by a year? Who even knows what their actual ages are

I mean, Duck is a duck so

It’s! The trees from the opening!

I don’t know if I’ve asked this before, but why does Fakir have a horse?

Oh my god Lilie

Can everybody STOP picking on Fakir for being afraid to die? He is 14, leave him alone

Ahiru is trying so hard to be helpful, give her a chance Fakir

Once again Rue shows up to get in a burn on Fakir and then leave

I swear every time the Aquarium plays in this show

Oh noooooooo Ruuuuueeeeeeee

Literally Protect All Of These Characters

Save These Children From Their Own Emotional Issues

FAKIR PLEASE

Pride is absolutely the worst feeling Mytho could get back right now?

“There’s something sinister going on that I’m not a part of!” And that really gets to you doesn’t it Dross. I bet it’s really… grinding your gears!!!

(why do I feel so proud of insulting a fictional character)

Episode 19 - A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Wow we really are starting this one off on a sinister note (it’s Drosselmeyer’s revenge on me for that pun)

Of course he can’t tell you, he doesn’t fuckin know what’s going on

Fakir please stop basing your entire identity around being a knight

Oh no, Mytho’s regained the heart shard of Basing Your Entire Identity Around Upholding A Role

I wonder if Hermia being tall is like, a meta Shakespeare joke, cause in the play Helena’s really tall and Hermia’s really short, but in every production I’ve seen it was the other way around

Rue stop projecting your insecurities onto your boyfriend

Ohhhhhhhh dear

Finally someone tells all the crows hanging around to shut up

Oh my god she really is super tall

Or Ahiru’s just super short

I am learning so much about ballet mimes

Cool bird shadows

Whoa, different raven background. And the Raven isn’t speaking with him this time? What does it mean

On no, Tutu

Hahaha oh no

Aaahaha they’re the same

THEY EVEN DO THE SAME ARM-FLAILY THING

Episode 20 - The Forgotten Story

ALRIGHT, TIME FOR THE FAKIR’S SAD BACKSTORY EPISODE

Raetzel: *walks in*

Uzura: And where do you fit in the shipping chart, ma’am

THIS is a High Quality Directatorial Decision

Oh no Duck. oh no she’s so earnest nooooo

It is just Extremely Wrong to see Mytho dancing to something besides Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

Mr. Cat can hear the word “wedding” from three floors up

Oh my GOD they put broken heart stickers on the window

I mean, I say they but we all know it was Lilie

Again, Duck knows exactly where shit’s going down just because that’s where all the crows are

Oh no!

Everybody needs to stop giving Fakir shit Right Now. Everybody needs to stop thinking it’s a bad thing that Fakir didn’t fucking Die, and that includes Fakir OKAY????

I’ve been thinking… Raven Mytho keeps saying things like “people only want love because they want to be loved” and I wonder… if that was sort of his experience as a prince. Or maybe I’m just getting this mixed up with Utena lol. But it does seem like a genuine issue he has as opposed to just something he says to manipulate people. Hm.

Episode 21 - The Spinners

Every time the narrator says “once upon a time there was a man who died” I Will Flip

Duck tries to lean nonchalantly against a door, it goes about how you’d expect

Duck that’s not how writing works (ughgfjdghskjkgf my pain)

AW NO

Oh no Duck is too relatable

UUAAAAAA TREE GHOST TREE GHOST

“Follow my every order and be prepared to die if you should fail” it’s almost like you WANT me to hate you. FAKIR DOESN’T NEED THIS

See Duck agrees with me

PETITION FOR PEOPLE TO LEAVE FAKIR THE FUCK ALONE THAT MEANS YOU TREE GHOST

Ohshit it’s that old guy from the bookshop???

Uzura is NOT “unrelated”, obviously she is Fakir’s baby sister

“I’m just watching again” oh no Duck

Autor what the Fresh Heck are you doing to Fakir

YOU ARE NOT FINE?????????

Honestly Fakir needs to get in touch with his emotions, not get sleep deprived and hallucinate in a field

This tree is saying things Edel said??? Was Edel made from the wood of this tree?????? Oh my god???????????

Anyway that was Intense

Listen, Raven Mytho has real issues and you can fight me on this

Ah, I see Dross is practicing the time-honored authorial tradition of “If the Story Isn’t Working, Hit It With a Wrench”

Episode 22 - Crown of Stone

But who’s going to protect Fakir huh? Answer me that, Duck

One big-ish happy familyyyyyyyyy

I needed this life advice tbh

Aaaaaah Uzura’s talking to Rue!

“Are you the Rue we’re worried about?” I love how she just included herself in that

Autor, I’m……. not sure you want the tree ghost cult to acknowledge you

Uhm, I’m pretty sure Autor doesn’t fit into the shipping chart and I think Uzura would agree with me

Ah fuck!!! Fakir turn around

Wait it’s an owl on a grandfather clock?? Is that actually a thing? These watchnotes are coming full circle

“I want people to love me, but is it okay to just be loved?” yep, the prince is having issues

Autor, I’m pretty sure Ahiru is figuring all that out right now

And like, the Book Men totally know it too, so

HOLY CRAP THIS SEQUENCE

AND THE MUSIC THE MUSIC IS PERFECT

SKLAFDJKVHFJK;JKLSdf;DSLKJFAKSDAKFJHFKLJJFGKLHGJFHSDLJ

I love this show

EPISODE 23 - Marionette

OH! OH! IT’S THE MUSIC EDEL ALWAYS PLAYED BUT SPED UP! That’s actually kinda creepy!

Anyway now I know why I’m so protective of Fakir, we’re both writers who can’t write anything

Oh noooooooooooo Rue

Oooooooooooh don’t like that

Ruuueeeeeeeeee please don’t stab your boyfriend we’ve been over this

Incidentally, hulu needs to quit it with these bogus commercial placements

Drosselmeyer: How dare you try to resolve your emotional problems!

Dross that’s called character development

Hahahaha joke’s on you Dross!

aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I! LOVE! THEM!

No of course your heart is lovey-dovey Uzura! Your heart is the lovey-dovey-est!!!

Incidentally, Autor is That Guy who says just because you haven’t finished/published anything you’re not a Real Writer. And he is Wrong

Episode 24 - The Prince and the Raven

Okay, just from this title I know I won’t be able to handle this

THIS ISN’T EVEN THE PENULTIMATE EPISODE

YOU ARE HITTING ME WITH ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A MAN WHO DIED RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE I CANNOT BELIEVE

Okay but and then this story explains all of Raven Mytho’s emotional issues as well???

*sigh* Autor……. Fakir literally just told you his motivation is to protect people and you’re still going on about controlling the fates of all mankind… are you sure you’re not Drosselmeyer’s direct descendent?

Rue don’t go into the crow building

Honestly I’m still dying over the fact that you can tell where things are happening purely based on which building all the crows are at today

Tiny Rue is breaking my heart

UUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAA TINY RUE IS DOING BALLET

Omg Rue in the beginner’s class!

Oh noooo Uzura’s saaaaad

I KNOW I’ve heard this songgggggggg

THAT WAS A BIT OF THE FOSSILS FROM CARNIVAL OF THE ANIMALS???

Okayokayokay so it’s not Carnival of the Animals but DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS it’s another piece by Saint-Saens and DO YOU KNOW what that piece is called????? fuckin Danse Macabre!!!!! I am immediately filled with a sense of foreboding!!!

The music choices in this show are going to destroy me one day

HOLY CRAP????

I can’t believe so goddamn much happened in this episode???

Episode 25 - The Dying Swan

I’m not rrrrrrrrreadyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Not even the narrator’s obvious disappointment in Drosselmeyer can give me solace

Oh my god so is the Drosselmeyer we know just a character in Dead Drosselmeyer’s story?

I think it’s a testament to this story’s power that I’m having so many emotions about it even though I know what’s going to happen? Like, some stories, reading the summary is pretty much the same as hearing the story, but Princess Tutu is not one of those stories

Like I just overcame my social anxiety to ask my roommate to be quieter, that’s how good this story is

Aaaaaagh Rue’s change from saying “you love me” to saying “I love you” my HEART

Oh shoot! Mytho’s angry! I thought one of the gate heart shards might be anger

Oh my god Autor literally no one cares what TEA Drosselmeyer drank look at Fakir he’s so done

Aaaaaaaa ohno

EVISCERATE HIM FAKIR

Holyshitholyshitholyshit

Okay but see the lake is outside the city so Dross just took some random normal duck and plunked her down in his fairytale town and that’s why like, a cat teacher seems weird to her because she’s not from inside the story

OH NO THEY’RE PLAYING THE SWAN BUT THIS TIME IT’S RUE

rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr fuck OFFFFFF

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh it’s the sword birds

excUSE you Dross, the knight has NOT “long been useless”

Episode 26 - Finale

I can’t believe after 9 years I’m finally going to finish watching this show

Okay it’s happening

It begins and ends with “once upon a time, there was a man who died”, the absolute most perfect first line in the history of first lines and you can fight me on this

Okay I’m already almost crying just from the theme song, like the Tchaikovsky fits perfectly into it? I’m gonna sing it

I’m just screaming???? They’re all in distress

BUT DUCK IS NOT GOING TO GIVE IN TO DISTRESS

RUE IS THE SWAN

DUCK DECIDES TO WRITE HER OWN STORY AND THE MUSIC FROM THE END OF THE THEME SONG STARTS PLAYING MY HEART