#Another thing to add to the WIP list

[cupcakesmoothie]

When you're feeling messed up but you're a writer so you go and write something messed up to make yourself feel better

[ivycorp]

Riot's TFP AU: Have you tried turning your Prime off and on again?

Agent Fowler kept a folder on everyone - the one for Optimus for a very long time contained a log of dates and places. The frequency of whatever he was tracking decreased at some point significantly, coming to a halt - and judging from the man's smile, it was a good thing.

When Agent Fowler was informed he would be dealing with giant alien robots from space, he was torn between being understandably stupefied by the notion of lifeforms from beyond the stars existing at all, and wondering if he had actually pissed someone off on the last work party. His superiors specified he was mainly to collect intel from within as a ‘liaison’ - to help them figure out what made the Cybertronians tick, and let them prepare for the eventuality when the Earth would have to deal with them as their own enemies.

“Precaution, agent - we can’t let ourselves be caught unawares should they turn on us,” his commander said, handing over a slim file of what they already knew. It was barely a few pages long, with more blanks than any actual information - which meant he was essentially going in blind. 

Marvelous - it was truly an ideal state of matters when talking with huge robots that can squash you like a bug.

Someone up there in senior command really didn’t like him.

Fowler accepted the job in the end, but on the inside he hoped it wouldn't last too long; he would usually choose shorter gigs to not grow attached to his targets. And when aliens were added into the picture, there was no place to get mushy - he needed to stand firmly on the side of humanity and his country.

In the beginning, it wasn't too difficult to keep the necessary emotional distance while remaining adequately civil - the differences between them were so numerous, the Autobots appeared standoffish and weird at first; he suspected that to them, he most likely seemed the same. They worked together, but that was it; he struggled to make progress beyond what he was told directly. Dry recounts, a few remarks, a hushed conversation here and there of which he heard a fraction at best.

He was almost considering reassignment, anything to alleviate the boredom - he'd even take the traffic duty over yet another day of silence. The paperwork was filed, ready to be sent out to his supervisor with a note that his skills were not being properly utilized, when he heard a loud clash.

Getting up and peering over the railing, he saw Optimus Prime sprawled on the floor by the console. Fowler cursed to himself; the one day when everyone was on patrol but their leader, he suffered some malfunction. How was he supposed to react? Should he get some jumper cables or something?

Deciding he might at least investigate, he went down and approached the mech with caution. Maybe it was some sort of robotic narcolepsy? Was Optimus sleeping? 

The agent's brows furrowed - could they even sleep?

He called out to the bot, hoping it would stir some reaction, but it all fell on deaf audials. He noticed the lights and noises that he associated with their kind were absent. 

To Fowler, Prime looked pretty much dead. 

He spent the next few minutes panicking, trying to discern how he would break the news to the command (and well, to bots too) - when the mech shook and on-lined with a soft gasp. The man stepped away, instinctively trying to give space to breathe to a being that didn’t even have lungs; he cursed quietly, trying to stamp out the flash of empathy that tried to read its ugly head at the obvious discomfort he was witnessing, as the Autobot leader got himself up to a sitting position, wincing at the stray electricity dancing on his plating.

"What was that?"

The Prime turned his helm, one of his servos massaging the middle of his chest gently; seeing the human, he raised the other one to wave the inquiry away.

"Nothing serious, Agent Fowler, do not concern yourself with this - it's not the first time it happened, and it will not be the last," said the mech placatingly, composure slipping at the end of the sentence to reveal… exhaustion? Seeing the bot already start to gather himself up, legs shaking slightly, the man decided to drop it. He would add it to the report and keep his eye out on the Prime to make sure it doesn't occur too often.

He repeated to himself that he was not growing concerned - that would imply caring, and that would imply getting attached. Very unprofessional. 

The reassignment paperwork was not sent out that day, though.

*****

Over the next few weeks, he kept to his routine without any major changes. Yet, something about that odd incident made him ask Ratchet a vague question about Cybertronians rest cycles. The medic was never very talkative, usually outright dismissive, but the question caught him by surprise - he actually gave a brief, but clear answer that turned the agent even more pensive. They were able to recharge, but they would not power down completely for it - so whatever struck the Prime was not a nap or a fainting spell. 

Thanking for the information, he walked back up to the raised platform and stopped, looking around. Arcee and Bumblebee were out on patrol, Cliffjumper and Bulkhead took off on a joyride…

Where was Optimus?

The man walked around the base, looking at every nook and cranny in search of the missing Autobot leader; a familiar sound of restarting machinery caught his ear, letting him follow it to the source. He found the Prime resting between storage boxes, frame barely visible in the dim room, biolights glowing in the darkness. When the agent got closer, he started recognising what the mech was muttering:

"What was it this time… you can't keep… this is not… please…" 

Fowler tried to remain stealthy, as he wanted to hear more of what Optimus was talking about; however, before he could actually catch anything, the automatic light sensors tripped and the room illuminated, startling the bot. 

"Who's there?" came a loud question, as the sounds of a Cybertronian scrambling to get up joined in. The agent cursed internally, before he put his shoulders back and strode inside. 

"It's me, Prime, relax," he said pacifyingly, trying to look confident and not at all like a man who just failed at trying to eavesdrop on an alien. The red and blue bot looked at him, shoulders dropping; the bright optics focused on him, and he had a feeling the mech was looking inside of his soul directly. Fowler intently did not think about spying, even though he was certain there was no way the other would know he was trying to listen in on whatever was happening. 

"Agent Fowler, what can I do for you?" Optimus inquired, slipping back into the familiar dynamic - most likely hoping the man wouldn't ask what he was doing in the dark storage room. 

"Nothing, I wasn't looking for you - I was just passing by, must have walked too close to the sensor," the man decided to leave the matter be for now, gesturing towards the lights. The mech stared at him, before nodding in understanding. 

"Then don't let me stop you from your duties, Agent Fowler, I'll be back at the main console in a few minutes if you do require my help," the Autobot leader acknowledged, and the man took it as a great opportunity to leave without raising suspicion.

As he walked down the hallway, he wondered why the lights weren't on in the first place - just how long was Optimus not moving in this room?

*****

On one of the few occasions where the Autobots were asked to help the human side of the alliance months later, Fowler had the dubious pleasure of getting stuck between rock and a hard place - quite literally. 

When he rode inside Optimus's cabin, writing up his report after they successfully delivered some sensitive military cargo without encountering the mercenaries they expected, he forgot that the lack of engagement was not equal to lack of possible excitement; a tremor shook the ground caused a landslide, which barrelled straight into the truck and threw them out of the road, off the edge of the cliff. The agent noticed the bot shift, turning to cushion the fall in a more controlled fashion, before they hit the bottom with a loud thud.

Dizzy but alive, Fowler got up on his legs, panting, adrenaline coursing high through his veins, as he started making his way towards the unmoving Autobot. Optimus had taken the brunt of the damages, and while the man got thrown to the side, the remaining rocks and pieces of road landed right on top of the mech.

"Prime, you good?" he called out, and upon hearing no response, frantically began to clear the rubble. His hands hurt, but he managed to dislodge a piece of the structure so that it unveiled a familiar red armor. After a bit more digging, he unburied the blue helm, dirty and scratched up.

There were no signs of life, and mech's chest was impaled right through by a piece of what he could recognize as a mangled crash barrier. The agent patted himself down for a phone, before he pulled out the wrecked device. It was beyond recovery, and he cursed not being able to hail anyone for help - the return trip was just him and Prime, so there would be nobody looking for them for a while.

He supposed at some point Ratchet would realize their leader dropped dead - he knew the medic was monitoring all the crew's stats. It was actually weird that there was no space bridge in there yet.

Worry growing, he shrieked when the mechanism emitted a disharmonious sound - and Optimus groaned. The bot got up, hissing as the metal embedded in him started sliding out. The screeching and squelching of unknown origin combined into a sickening discordant noise that made him want to barf.

"Watch out, Prime, it nearly killed you!" Fowler threw his hands up, hoping to catch the attention of the mech; the blue optics shifted towards him in a mix of surprise and relief.

“Ah, you had not been harmed - that’s good,” Optimus said, smiling weakly as he propped himself up on his elbows and glared at the metal jutting out of his torso. The long servos tried to reach behind his back, failing to grasp at the end of it - the piece got buried deep into the ground.

The only way off it was up.

“You said it ‘nearly’ killed me, correct, Agent Fowler?” the Autobot asked aloud, though the man felt this was less of a question and more of an acknowledgement, as he could swear he could hear the quotation marks in the sentence. Numbly, he nodded, and nearly snickered from stress when the bot said something that sounded suspiciously like a curse in a foreign language - the emotion behind the words was very much recognizable. He grabbed the barrier and tore it as close to his windshields as possible, before he leveled Fowler with a tired look.

“There is a chance this will ‘nearly’ kill me again - if this happens, don’t worry, just give me a few minutes. If I try to do this again after that, tell me it didn’t work and to call Ratchet instead,” came the orders, voice of the mech devoid of any humor - the agent could only nod his head again, as Prime sighed and started pulling himself off it, inch by inch. 

At some point the rubble he was in shifted, making him sway; the mech seized up with a guttural sound in his vocaliser, and his biolights blinked away. Fowler stood there, watching the bot dangle like that for a couple of minutes, before the sound of re-starting systems filled his ears again. 

Optimus groaned, looking around disoriented, as he tried to move again.

“No!” shouted the man, successfully stopping the bot, as he quickly followed it up with “it didn’t work, call Ratchet,”; to his amazement, Prime listened, opening the comm line to the base, as the familiar lights of a ground bridge appeared close by. The medic came out, shouting at his leader, as he started chewing the mech’s audials off for getting stuck into another weird situation again. The blue and red Autobot apologized the entire way back, as he limped to the medbay - agent following silently, wondering what had he actually witnessed. 

*****

“Optimus, please, let me take a look at it,” said Ratchet, poking at the mech’s internals, mending the remaining wires with care and precision. Prime shook his helm negative, mumbling:

“You tried that already, old friend, and we both know I can't remove it yet.”

Fowler froze with an arm raised, as he was about to knock on a pipe and ask the medic some questions about Cybertronian biology he was getting more curious about lately - instead, he darted to the wall, hiding behind one of the storage boxes, telling himself he was not feeling guilty for listening in on a private conversation between a doctor and their patient. 

He was not the one sworn to secrecy in that matter.

This was expected from his job!

Why did he feel so bad about listening in, then?

“Still, this is not healthy for you!” the angry words came back at the Prime; the man had to strain his ears to pick up what followed after, muscles aching from trying not to make a sound and stop this conversation. 

“The fact that I had to add a delay on the medical alert for when you drop off-line just because that one time you kept on dropping and coming back several times in a row because of whatever you and this piece of scrap in your chest disagreed about - you don’t even remember what was the subject of the discussion! - it’s simply asking for trouble! Had you not called, I would have never known you needed assistance!” Ratchet fumed, angrily slamming something closed, before gathering the equipment and leaving it to clatter on the tray for treatment later on. A sympathetic hum was heard, and the medic emitted a sound of exhausted disappointment. 

“I really wish you would let me try again - Decepticons aren’t around, so you suffer for nothing,” he mumbled, as he went back to the sanitizing unit, to get the equipment cleaned up. 

Fowler could see the familiar legs of Optimus at the edge of his field of vision behind the crate, as the mech calmly patted his friend on the shoulder and stated:

“If in a year we will be able to say the same, I will be open for another attempt - for now, I have a feeling we are not alone here.”

The agent stood still, mulling these words over, as he finally slipped away into the base proper. From such an odd piece of intel, he wasn’t sure if he could explain it in his report - so for now, it remained out of the official documentation. 

Until he knew a little bit more.

Not at all because he was actually worried.

*****

Ten months later, Fowler noted at least twenty of those strange occurrences - and when Cliffjumper died, alerting them to the enemy presence, he had to restrain himself from looking at Ratchet’s offended face, as he grumbled about ‘stupid Cons not waiting with this slag for two more months’. The man had by then grown a bit more attached to the Autobots, but he still periodically considered calling it quits - the paperwork sitting in drafts all this time, ready at a click of a button to get him into a less weird job. 

When he observed the Decepticons in action, he congratulated himself on the patience - they were providing him more information than he could ever hope to piece away from the Bots alone! They talked so much and with so little care, it was like taking candy from a baby.

He quickly picked up on some sort of prior history between the two factions’ leaders, though he was surprised at how little Optimus seemed to be affected by this weird dance between him and Megatron; to Fowler, it looked like the silver mech was putting so many innuendos about their lives that he started using it as a reference under what was previously a blank slate of ‘Prime’s past’ in his file. The red and blue bot did not show the same level of engagement, and the man could see it was driving the former gladiator into anger. It was like watching a telenovela - and he was quickly sucked into the drama.

The agent wrote down ‘possibly exes?’ in the file quite early on, later scratching out the first word, instead underlining the latter four times.

Month after that, he added exclamation marks.

It later came into being the central part on the mind map he created to keep up with all the information he was getting.

And there was a lot of it.

As more and more Cybertronians showed up, his job became way more dynamic - between reports, missions, and increasing liveliness of the inhabitants of the base, he barely had time for boredom. He was sure he was close to getting into internal communication on board the Nemesis, and that would for sure give him even more intel. He needed more insight, to give them an edge in this conflict - to both the Autobots and humankind.

Especially since the Bots somehow managed to get kids involved in the mess.

‘Still’, he mused, looking around from where he stood finishing up a phone call, ‘at least the guys have some life in them now.’ 

He stopped on the stairs, realizing how true that statement was. Fowler racked his brain trying to recall if he saw Arcee smile so openly before. Had he heard Bulkhead’s laugh so loud? Had Bumblebee allowed himself some time to play around? Brows furrowing in concentration, he opened his notepad and checked his personal tally he kept on Optimus. 

There had been no new entries from when the Decepticons returned. 

*****

The appearance of Unicron into the equation caused an uproar; even worse was the fact that the only solution they could think about involved cooperation with Megatron. There was not much time left for dilly-dallying, and Optimus did not leave much room for argument, having tried the diplomacy route and failing spectacularly before getting rescued by his nemesis - who was way too giddy for such an event, gloating and flirting the entire time. 

It made the agent laugh internally to see the Autobot leader ignore all of it, in favor of dealing with the situation on hand - to the Decepticon’s obvious dismay.

Knowing the silver mech was inside the base felt like a horrible intrusion, nonetheless. There was nothing that could be done about it, and the agent prayed that he would not have to write down today’s date in his little log.

As he watched them cross the space bridge, he admitted that at least if he needed to add another entry, the Prime would be there, alive and well.

The entire operation passed quickly, nerves flying high, as the tremors finally ceased - crisis averted. The Earth would see another day, and the public would be none the wiser that the planet was, in fact, a giant robot.

Opening the space bridge again, the Bots returned, oddly quiet for such a success.

Fowler looked at them, and his face fell.

Optimus wasn’t with them.

“Where is he?” he asked, walking closer to the guardrail, right as Ratchet piped up with the same sentiment. The agent knew that if the mech had been killed, they would have dragged the husk back - and he would probably wake up after a few minutes.

As always.

He always came back.

No matter what, no matter how bad - he always powered up, looking around before his memory caught up to him enough to start thinking again.

When the bots explained their leader couldn't recognize them and left with Megatron, he decided the group chat he got into would be way more closely monitored than he initially suspected.

*****

Getting Optimus back was a relief.

Fowler already knew a bit more than others what had happened from the Vehicons recount of the events, as he lurked on as an anonymous presence with them on the comms. He decided to keep the majority of it to himself, expecting the rumors to be at least slightly exaggerated - he could try to let the mech retain his dignity. 

The notes he took were for now out of the official documentation, hidden in the depths of his archiving cabinet under lock and key. It could have been an insinuation of a bored staff, he knew how easy gossip spread and mutated. 

And it's not possible they had been going at it as often as the messages implied. They were at war, on the same ship as Soundwave who listened in on anyone at any given time - that must put a bit of a damper on the horizontal tango.

Prime walked between his Autobots, smiling, letting them touch him; understanding the need for reassurance, his presence grounding the others. He allowed himself to be pulled into hugs, right before he was dragged away by the medic who already raged at all the check-ups he needed to run ('I expect you to carry tons of malware, so you ain't touching any consoles before I clear you' Ratchet threatened, pulling the mech by a servo insistently). 

Right as it should be: down to the mumbled curses, laughing kids, and their exhausted but relieved Bot companions.

Their worries were finally over, their leader returned, and things would be back to normal soon. If they gave him time and space, he would be the patient, wise figure they got used to. 

Fowler later guessed they never really knew the actual 'normal' for the mech, so they really shouldn't have been as surprised as what followed.

*****

There was something different about the Prime, but the agent wasn't sure yet if this was actually a bad thing. 

On one hand, the mech had been way more expressive, open to conversation and emotion; there were more positive interactions, as the underlying stiffness he associated with Optimus being, well, a Prime - he heard Ratchet say like the sole fact was the worst thing that could have happened to the bot - was gone. The kids enjoyed that a lot, responding well to his smiles and encouragement shared at their curiosity.

On another, it became very obvious that the past Megatron was alluding to was, in fact, precisely as he implied.

And the feelings were very much returned.

The agent kicked himself mentally for not believing the group chat more - the staff on board Nemesis obviously knew what was going on and were not shy to gossip about it. At least he was not forced to be within the same ship as Megatron, who seemed to be most affected by the shift of this dynamic.

After one of those missions that ended with everyone being very weirded out, he decided it wasn't bad to ask him about one of his suspicions on an unrelated topic - it's not like the day could get much stranger.

"So, Optimus, the Matrix ain't bothering you as much these days?" Fowler asked without preamble, hoping the bluntness would make it less inappropriate. The mech grinned, and confirmed:

"Yes, there should be no more spontaneous deaths triggered by SOMEONE," he looked down at where the Matrix resided in his frame with a frown, "who decides that the best option to win an argument is to make me forget the topic of it by killing me out of the blue, removing the last few minutes from my memory as a by-product."

He placed his servos on hips, as he spoke to the middle of his chest disapprovingly:

"Very mature approach, for sure."

Optimus cocked his helm to the side, as if listening to someone speak, before he added an angry "No excuses, you ain't pulling this on me ever again, you piece of scrap - ‘will of Primus’ or not, we will talk things out like grown mechanisms, you hear?" slapping his torso right above his spark, driving his point home.

Fowler couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him in response, as his theories were getting validated.

"Has the Matrix been turning you off and on again, hoping you would drop whatever the issue was? Would it be happening again anytime soon?" he asked to clarify, as his brain was filled with an image of an ethereal looking bot insistently pushing the power button to force a shutdown, only to do it again when the same issue popped in right after and getting mad that it's not working with such a stubborn mech that Optimus was turning out to be. It made him laugh, but it also was worrying to think that it could start again. 

Prime nodded, smirking, as he added:

"It surely seemed that way, but the game has changed - no more 'blue screens of death' for me, I'm glad to say."

The agent decided in the end that the change was good - this Optimus smiled way more often.

*****

Laughing at the last messages from the chat, Fowler saved yet another file onto his phone; he would need to print this out and include it in his reports, though he expected other agents would grow only more concerned at the mess the Cybertronians were creating lately. For a brief moment, he wondered if maybe there was a problem with him, before he shrugged - it really didn't matter, he enjoyed this too much. His documentation was thorough these days, and as Prowl remarked, very well organized.

Plus, he was getting very good at fancy presentations - he wouldn't give up a chance to whip up another one for the matter of a surprise addition to the lives of certain faction leaders. He had so many pictures saved, he had to use them for good. 

Aside from the baby album he was preparing in secret for Optimus, of course. He should have probably written it down - he kept on forgetting to check up on the large print order he placed, so a physical memo could help. The agent flipped his notepad open, pen at the ready.

The little thing no longer carried the tally log of all the Primes Deaths And Returns; these pages were transferred into the side file cabinet, as another reference in the 'no longer applicable concern' category: it fit right by 'estimation of chances of Megatron killing off Optimus' and 'list of injuries and treatments related to being grabbed by a Cybertronian'.

A message piped on his phone, and he snorted at the picture sent by the kids from the day at the beach, visiting Griffin Rock for some well deserved R&R. He went to type a reply, when he found the old and forgotten reassignment request. Fowler shook his head at his old worries.

With no hesitation, he deleted the draft.

This job was not boring at all.

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

@transingthoseformers I couldn't find the post in which it was mentioned that Fowler has seen Optimus die enough time to know how to react to it, but it's been sitting with me for a while so... yeah.

[galaxy-lilies]

i know someone out there has already done a therefore you and me scarian life series piece and/or animatic but i am willing to go through drawing flowers hell to add more to the pool

[pixiemage]

My brian: "Ah yes, let's mentally write a 5+1 fic about Jimmy learning the different ways Tango uses the word "buddy" in different situations. It'll be cute. It'll be adorable."

Me, just trying to finish the three MCYT WIP's I already have: "P...Please...please no...not another one...I can't...."

[asimplearchivist]

well.

despite my better judgement (and the final draft I need to work on for my English class) I started a new pmd:eos save file.

couldn’t not get eevee bc that’s my Brand™️, but I decided to deviate from my personal canon and named her Saiorse instead with Sean the Shinx as her partner (instead of Celine and Tobias the Riolu); they’re team snowstorm bc she will evolve into a glaceon post game :)

I started the game yesterday evening and now I’m about to go into the northern desert.

(I’m getting the feels all over again God help me)

[sotteoks]

shaking and crying rn bc I can't decide which wip I wanna work on or if I wanna start something new

[andiv3r]

I've seen a lot of people doing these posts, and since Tumblr decided to blow up one of my last posts, it probably won't happen again so this is low risk...

If this post gets 3k notes, I will:

go in for an autism screening (which i've been meaning to do for 5 months)

put aside time every night to do my homework, no matter how much i don't want to

work on my writing WIPs (specifically wc!omens) at least once a week

I don't think this post will reach 3k, so again... low risk. But if it does, I'll add another list of things for 7k notes. All of these are things that have been personal goals for a while, and I just... haven't been doing them.

Edit: uhhh. Okay. So, you did it. I... guess I have to do all of those things now. Wow. Time to add the things for 7k notes then-

If this post gets 7k notes, I will:

start driving more... i need to get my license but i'm too scared to do the driving necessary to get the practice in (i have my permit)

stand up for myself more in regard to my pronouns

[alltimefail]

ATTENTION DEAD BOYS FANDOM:

We have some unfinished business and a case to solve: The Case of the Curious Cancellation! 💀🔎

Here are the ways you can help (be sure to read until the end).

I'm not sure how many people here on Tumblr are also over on DBDA Twitter, but there have been MANY developments in the last 24 hours and it's important for all of us to be on the same page if we're going to have a chance in hell of saving our show.

First and foremost, we need to get Dead Boy Detectives in the Netflix Top 10 again. This means running it as much as possible. Read about that below:

(SOURCE x)

As the graphic says, the goal is to have it running on a loop constantly, as much as you physically can. Be sure to have some level of volume on or else it won't count. If you're on Twitter be sure to post your rewatch (photos of your tv, commentary, etc.) with the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives !!!

Also, there's no better time to do this: the Tweet below brings up a great point! 👍

(SOURCE x)

Second, and easiest thing: KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE SHOW AND CREATING CONTENT ABOUT THE SHOW. Analysis, fics, fanart, shitposts, gif sets, memes, tik tok videos, so on - do not stop! Reblog other people's stuff and talk about it! Give fics kudos, comment, make fic rec lists and post that WIP or sketch! The most important thing to remember is to TAG YOUR POSTS AND CREATIONS. We need to trend!!! On Tumblr make sure you continue tagging your posts as you probably already are (look at my tags on this post if you need help, and remember not to use "DBD" on here because that is another fandom! We use DBDA here). On Twitter you want to use the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives for the rewatch and #SaveDeadBoyDetectives is a popular one, too. You can also use #DeadBoyDetectives. Hell, I usually use all three if I can! Hashtag every post you make about Dead Boys, no matter how annoying or "cringe" you may feel. Flood the fucking tag and do not stop.

Third, everyone needs to sign and keep circulating the petition. We've surpassed 5,000 signatures in a day which is fantastic, but we need more. Get everyone you know to sign it; tell them it takes no more than 15 seconds. Be annoying until they do it just to shut you up.

Fourth, request "Dead Boy Detectives Season 2" through Netflix's support website. It's a small thing but if we all do this a couple times a day it will get their attention. They really do vet these suggestions, and an influx of requests for a canceled show will raise eyebrows.

Lastly, if you decide to write Netflix (via email or a letter - their office address has been floating around) please remember to stay concise and professional. Don't curse at them, don't call names. State that you are disappointed with the cancellation of the show, maybe add an anecdote about what it meant to you, and I would even recommend attaching some articles that emphasize people's displeasure with the platform abandoning shows on a whim and Netflix's flippant attitude toward queer shows in particular. Dead Boy Detective Agency on Twitter has retweeted every article on this topic so far, you can find their page here.

You can also use graphics such as the ones below to affirm that the cancellation was unjust.

(Source 1, Source 2)

I know this feels like a lot: know your limits and take care of yourself. Whether you do every single one of these things or just a few of these things, every llittle bit helps!

Even in the worst case scenario where nothing changes, this gesture will mean so much to everyone who made this show. We owe it to the writers, cast, crew, and each other to TRY. We can all agree that this show deserves at least another season and if Netflix isn't going to do it, they need to be open to selling it to someone who will. We cannot keep allowing them to axe these queer and diverse shows with little regard for their customers and their employees, but also because it sets a harmful standard in the industry that is destroying television.

Let's crack this case and bring our agency back! I truly believe in this community!! 💜 We can do this!!

If there are any spelling errors or issues with links let me know! I did this on mobile because I want to mobilize this information as quickly as possible! I'll be adding on to this with new developments and can answer any questions you all might have. Lets save our show!

[addledmongoose]

Best of 2023 Good Omens Fanfiction

This is my list of the 20 best Good Omens fanfiction works I've read in 2023.

A few notes:

These are all complete works; there are no WIPs in the list.

Please feel free to let me know if a link stops working

It's not an ordered list. That would be far too difficult.

You'll probably recognize some of the most popular ones. They're popular for a reason, after all, but I hope you find something you haven't yet read.

The majority are full-length works, but there are definitely some shorter pieces.

These are certainly not the only good works I've read, but they are the ones I'm most likely to read more than once

Click the Keep Reading to see the list

If you're the author of one of these, first off, thank you! But second, if you want me to add your tumblr name to your story, let me know, and I'll edit.

This first section, all the stories are canon-compliant or canon-adjacent. In other words, it's at least somewhat set in the Good Omens universe.

a lighthouse (burning) (108K; Rated M)

This one is canon-adjacent and set in the 19th century. Aziraphale goes to a lighthouse to figure out where all the lighthouse keepers disappeared to, and Crowley follows along. This one is a bit of a spooky mystery along with the romance, and the writing style is simply beautiful. You really get a sense of being trapped in this lighthouse in the middle of nowhere.

***

The Grindr Logo Doesn't Even Have a 'G' In It (79K; Rated E)

It's honestly hard to remember that this one isn't human AU, but they're still just as angelic/demonic as ever. Aziraphale joins Grindr and starts texting (and then sexting) with a charming young man. It's no secret to the reader who this new hookup is. This story is genuinely funny at times. I like the funny ones.

***

The Whole Damned World Seemed Upside Down (103K; Rated M)

This is one of the best reverse omens stories I've read that isn't technically a reverse omens. Crowley wishes things were different after leaving the bookshop, and the universe gives him his wish. He finds himself in a world where Aziraphale hates him, Death has trouble taking lives, and basically everything you knew about the world of Good Omens is upside down. It's very funny. It uses inline footnotes (which is good, because it has a LOT of footnotes), and Death is hilarious.

***

it's a new craze (5K; Rated T)

Another one that seems like it should be human AU but isn't. Crowley and Aziraphale start up a podcast after the Notpocalypse and gain a loyal fanbase who can't figure out if they're a couple or not. They often forget who their audience is and often reference events in their shared history that make no sense to the humans listening.

***

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a demon in possession of a mobile phone, must be in want of attention (6K; Rated G)

And yes, that is the entire title. Another funny short story where a couple of podcast hosts receive a call from a certain angel whose demon trapped himself in his phone and won't leave.

***

In Mixed Company, or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hell (52K; Rated M)

I've read this one at least three times, and it's probably my favorite of all. Every 300 years, Heaven and Hell share a company retreat on Earth during which angels and demons surrender their celestial powers and hold retreats. It has a great new angel friend of Aziraphale's; Hellish Powerpoint presentations; Gabriel being annoyingly chipper; and Aziraphale and Crowley sneaking around like teenagers trying to find some alone time.

***

How To Woo A Demon (24K; Rated T)

Aziraphale researches demonic courtship rituals and starts implementing them in order to convince Crowley he wants to take their relationship to the next level. Crowley is very confused by Aziraphale's actions. Another cute, funny one.

***

Factory Settings (107K; Rated T)

This one is famous for coming out practically as S2 dropped, making people think whoever wrote it (the author is anonymous) had something to do with the production of the show.

This is the only one I'm going to say anything negative about. There are a lot of spelling errors and typos in it. It needs a hard editing pass. Despite that complaint, I devoured this story as fast as I could scroll. It's that good, and even knowing all the errors are there, I'll probably still re-read it. I'm usually pretty picky about errors like that, so for me to overlook it and even recommend it, means I really liked it.

Crowley gets reinstated as the angel, Raphael, with no memory of his time as Crowley, and Aziraphale struggles to return him to his demonic self. It's heart-breaking and wonderful and I absolutely loved it.

***

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) (17K: Rated E)

Much like In Mixed Company, Heaven and Hell come together for a corporate retreat on Earth. In this one, some totally random demon who's name definitely doesn't rhyme with Bowley created a wager in Hell to see which demon could bed an angel first.

Another funny one. This time, a lot of the humor comes from the demons doing their best to pick up the angels with really bad pickup lines.

***

We Only Said Goodbye with Words, I Died A Hundred Times (9K; Rated E)

If I could learn to write even half as good as this, I'd be ecstatic. The emotions the author packs into this story are mind-blowing.

Crowley receives a cursed amulet that creates an ever-increasing need for the person he wants the most and goes to see Aziraphale.

***

To reveal my heart in ink (29K; Rated E)

Aziraphale starts writing letters to Crowley by mail. The letters they exchange slowly get more and more explicit.

***

Pray For Us, Icarus (66K; Rated G/T)

The author wrote this one as a series, so each one varies in chapter count and rating, but they tell a single, contiguous story.

This was the first long-form GO fanfiction I read, and it was way too close to the ending of S2. I really should've waited a while, because holy cow, is this one heartbreaking.

For three hundred years, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has spent those three hundred years trying to restore him to his true self.

The author, Atalan, is probably one of the best writers on the site. This story is stunning in the quality of its writing, in the pacing of the story, and in the emotions evoked. I normally don't like being sad (like I said, I like the funny ones), but I've saved this story off to make sure I always have it.

***

Pretend For Me (53K; Rated E)

In a panic, Aziraphale tells the archangels that he survived hellfire due to his soul mixing with Crowley's because they're in a romantic and sexual relationship, but now they want them to prove it.

I'm a sucker for fake relationship stories, and there aren't a whole lot of them where the characters are still angel/demon, but this one is. It's another fun one, though a bit more angsty than some of those I listed above.

***

The following are all human AU. Good chance you'll recognize all or most of these.

Married At First Sight (147K; Rated T)

One of the most recently completed stories in the list, this is a fake relationship story where Aziraphale and Crowley join a reality show that marries complete strangers off to each other. Their new marriage starts off on a less than idyllic foot and they decide to fake it for the show. The author is a master of making you want to scream "for fuck's sake, just talk to each other, you walnuts!"

Probably one of my favorite fake relationship stories.

***

Postcards From Paris (12K; Rated G)

The author, ghostrat (@mrghostrat), is a fantastic writer of human AU, and it's worth going through his entire backlist (and read his current WIPs, too).

Crowley moves into his Mayfair flat and starts receiving postcards addressed to the previous tenant from one A.Z.F., who is in Europe hunting for bizarre bibles and rating wine. Sweet and fluffy and the perfect antidote if you've just been on an angst binge.

***

Or Be Nice (151K; Rated E)

I stayed up until 6:30 in the morning reading this one, crashed for three hours, then read until I finished it. Then that night, I started it again.

This is, without hesitation, my all-time favorite human AU. It's funny. I love the author's version of the characters, and I will probably end up reading it again in just a few months. I probably already would have if it wasn't for the length of my Mark For Later and Subscription lists.

Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbors who get into a noise war. They both have their reasons for their actions, though to be honest, Crowley is a bit of an ass at first. Once they really start talking, though, they are absolutely wonderful together.

Even if you've never read a human AU, I recommend at least giving this one a try.

***

What We Make Of It (Shotgun Wedding) (213K; Rated E)

This is the third charlottemadison work on this list. 15% of this list is just this one author. That's how good they are.

Aziraphale works as an English teacher. Crowley is the guardian for his nephew, Adam, and works for a school testing company. Crowley can't risk his job dating his nephew's gorgeous and charming teacher. Unless...

Crowley comes up with a crazy plan. Now he just has to convince Aziraphale to go along with it.

Again, another very popular human AU. One thing I love about this story is how there's a lot less angst between the two characters, and how they both really care for Adam.

***

Slow Show (95K; Rated E)

The very first human AU I read. Didn't even think I'd like that specific genre until I read it. Now, as you can see, it's about half of my reading list.

This is an actor AU. Aziraphale (named Avery here) and Crowley are actors working together on a new show. Avery is an award-winning, straight-laced, well-respected actor; Crowley is a mess who immediately falls head-over-heels for him and somehow has to get through the show without letting his (apparently straight) costar realize that.

***

South Downs (76K; Rated E)

Another actor AU. This time, Aziraphale is an openly-gay actor, well-respected for his period drama work. Crowley is a once-blackballed actor who jumps at the chance to star in a gay Regency romance with Aziraphale in the hopes it can restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley is struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

I love the growing friendship between these two as much as the romance. I love how comfortable and confident Aziraphale is here; and how caring he is toward Crowley's growing awareness of his sexuality.

***

This one doesn't really fit either category, so I'm putting it here.

The Rose and the Serpent (56K; Rated M)

By the same author as Pray For Us, Icarus comes a GO retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Aziraphale is sent off by his older brother, Gabriel, into the forest to be held hostage by a giant snake in a cursed castle. Turns out, neither the snake nor the castle are what he was expecting.

Light-hearted and with very memorable characters, the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale is simply stunning. I love how Newt and Anathema are used here. The quality of this one is as good as Icarus, and I loved this one so much I could easily have read 300K more words.

***

And bonus: mine!

The Beginning of the End (Again) (79K; Rated M)

The first fanfiction I've ever written and the first book I've written in a decade. I had the first two chapters in mind after finishing S2, and the story grew from there. I actually have a sequel in mind after I finish another, separate fake relationship story.

Crowley spends months drowning his sorrows after Aziraphale accepts the Supreme Archangel position, until a group of demons shows up one day and tells him the Second Coming is nearly upon them, and they want him to stop it. Turns out being a demon isn't much fun if there are no humans left to tempt.

Aziraphale has spent these last months in Heaven looking for ways to stop the Second Coming while mourning the way he and Crowley left things. After discovering that Hell's minions have been tasked by the Metatron to escort the son of God on a tour of Earth in preparation for his Second Coming, he hurries down to see what's going on, fearing the worst.

Instead he discovers Crowley escorting the Messiah around Earth. Is his demon taking the son of God on dates?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back to work but still hurting.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re grateful only for the reprieve of Sy’s shower. He spends at least an hour in the bathroom but it’s not nearly enough time to figure this out. He’s not going anywhere and you have no way of changing that. And with how things are going, it won’t be long before you’re entirely trapped with him. 

The helplessness suffocates you. You slowly get up, needing to do something, anything to keep your thoughts from spiralling further. Or him. 

You go to the kitchen and pull out some chicken. Even with your recent shop, what you have won’t last. Not with two people. You marinate the tender breast as you pull out the jasmine rice and your mini rice cooker. Everything you have is built for one, it’s another reminder that he’s invaded your life. 

The bathroom door opens and you stay hidden in the kitchen. It’s only as he calls your name that you poke your head out. You don’t want him to think you’ve tried to escape again. Imagine that, escaping your own life. 

“Here,” you squeak and your mouth hangs open. He stands in only a towel. It’s low enough that the trail of hair along his stomach grows thicker just above the knot. Your lashes flick and you cough, “just starting dinner. Jerk chicken and... and rice.” 

“Sounds delicious,” he grins and runs his fingers through his beard. “Much better than field rations, eh, Aika?” 

He whistles at the dog and she perks her ears up. Sy sighs and drops his arms, smiling at you dreamily. Your eyes wander to the scars all over his body; a thick raised one along his ribs and smaller ones flecked along his shoulder and a line on his lower stomach. 

“I’ll get dressed,” he rubs his hands together, “can’t be eatin’ in my towel, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, I... I’ll be in here.” 

You go back into the kitchen and stare at the rice maker. You see the reflection of his scarred mind in his body. Again you can’t help the rent in your heart. That sympathy that underlines your fear. He’s a tortured soul but not one you can soothe. You don't know where to begin. 

You put the chicken in the oven and set the rice to cook. Next you look for a veggie. Broccoli. Standard. You’ll add a bit of seasoning. You’re not very hungry, even as the aromas rise in the air. 

“God, it’s hot in here,” Sy growls as he appears in the doorway that opens to the dining space.  

“It’s the oven,” you say as rinse the head of broccoli, “sorry.” 

“Ah, you know, it’s not half so bad as the desert,” he chuckles, “Aika knows. The way the sand gets all in your mouth and—and everywhere else.” 

“I can’t imagine,” you murmur, “wouldn’t be a day at the beach, I’m sure.” 

“Mm, no,” he agrees as he leans on the wall, “not a bad idea. I could take ya down for a beach day. We could get some good pictures. A few videos.” 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” you focus on your task. You put the broccoli on the cutting board and pull out a knife. 

“You want me to get that, sweetie? Don’t wanna cut yourself now,” he pushes away from the wall. 

“No, I got it,” you line up the knife and chop the head in half. He winces. 

“It’s dangerous, you got a smaller one?” 

“Really, Sy, I’m fine,” you insist as he looms closer, “let me just get dinner ready and you can sit--” you hiss as you pull your finger back at the sudden slip. 

“I told ya,” he accuses as he grabs your hand and examines it. His grip is iron and you don’t resist. There’s no blood. 

“It was just my nail,” you wiggle the top of your finger, “please--” 

“Let me do it,” he insists and reaches for your other hand, “give me the knife, sweetie.” 

You hesitate but hand it over. You’re not sure why he’s so nervous about it. Still, there’s no sense fighting over sharp objects. 

“We gotta work together, don’t we?” He says as he chops.  

“Sure,” you agree thinly. 

You turn to get a sheet pan for the broccoli. You’ll dress in oil and some spices, maybe a bit of lemon juice. As you lay parchment paper over it, he drops the knife in the sink. 

He remains, crowding you as he watches you work. You spread out the little branches and drizzle them over. You put them in beside the chicken and rinse off your hands. You dry off and glance over at Sy. He's watching you. 

“You really don’t have to stay out here,” you say. 

“I like being around you,” he grins, “still can’t believe it’s real.” 

Me neither, you think. 

“Well, all that’s left is the waiting,” you set a timer, “so...” 

“Ah, well, s’pose we can do that on the couch.” 

“Oh, well, I was gonna get the laundry together,” you say, the excuse popping up spontaneously. 

“Why don’t you wait ‘til tomorrow?” 

“Right, uh, I wanted to get it done. I need to get back to my commissions tomorrow.” 

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “you work too hard.” 

You withhold a mean thought. He hasn’t mentioned work since he showed up. What about that desk he was talking about? You know better than to challenge him. You’ll keep the peace as long as you have to. Get through dinner then worry about the real test; bedtime. 

“Alright, let’s sit,” you relent and reach for his large hand.  

It’s not an affectionate gesture, merely appeasing. You can still hear his voice booming and the thump his skull made on the wall. Not to mention the state of his face and the dent in your wall. You can’t forget what he’s capable of. You can’t deny that you’re lucky he only hurt himself. 

He lets you guide him out of the kitchen and you try not to show your reticence. You won’t think of what happened on the couch last time. Besides, you can’t leave the food to burn. 

💗

You eat at the table. It’s an excuse for some space. As you waited for the timer to save you, you were trapped in his embrace. His constant touching and cooing. You should be flattered when someone tells you you’re pretty and perfect but he just makes you want to combust. 

You can hardly stay still. You clear the table and tidy up what mess is left in the kitchen. You can hear him prowling in the other room. You wipe down the table and peek up as he stops to watch you. 

“Almost done?” He asks. 

“Sure, uh, I’ll finish and get washed up for the night.” 

“Washed up?” He echoes. 

“Brush my teeth, wash my face, all that,” you explain. 

“Oh, yeah, makes sense.” 

“What about Aika? She need to go out?” 

He stops and looks at the dog, still laying at the door. 

“She should,” he intones grimly, “I’ll take her then.” 

He disappears into the bedroom as you let out a breath. It’s not much. You know you’re just putting off the inevitable. He reemerges with the jangle of keys and you see your phone case peeking out of a pocket in his cargo shorts. He might seem scattered but there’s something about him that assures you he’s just as calculated. 

“I’ll be back,” he assures and stops just by the door, “sure you don’t wanna come with us?” 

You rinse off the cloth and shake it out. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You should come...” he mumbles. 

“Sy,” you go to the doorway parallel to the apartment door, “I promise, I won’t go anywhere.” 

You have nowhere to go. 

He stares at you. His looks pale and drawn. He cracks his neck as he tilts his head one way then the other. He lets out a long exhale as he sets his head straight and he steps closer. Aika stands, her paws scuffing on the hardwood. You gulp as he makes himself bigger and glares down at you. 

“I know you won’t,” he says quietly, “because you know I’ll follow you anywhere, don’t you, sweetie?” 

You bat your lashes and gulp. You nod, “yes, captain.” 

His lips curve and he reaches to grab you, cradling the back of your head as he pulls you close and kisses your forehead, “good girl. Get nice and fresh for me.” 

He lets you go with a growl and you stand frozen between the counters. Aika watches him with her doleful eyes as he steps into his boots. He opens the door and points her out, not bothering to take the leash with him. She looks at you, wiggling her nose, before she goes. 

The door snaps shut behind Sy and jolt you. You can’t shake the grit in his voice. The subliminal threats laced into his proclamation of devotion. He found you and he’ll find you again, so why bother trying to run? 

You shut off the kitchen light and flit into the bedroom. You gather up a set of pajamas. A white tee and short pairing with little sliced oranges stamped into the fabric. You lock yourself in the bathroom and face yourself in the mirror. You look just as afraid as you feel. 

You lay out the pajamas to one side of the sink and put on the fluffy headband that keeps your hair out of the way. You start your usual routine, the familiarity the only comfort you have left. Brushing flossing, exfoliating, moisturizing, and toning. It’s the little things you started to make yourself feel better but they just aren’t working this time. 

You hear him return as you button up the pajama top. You stare at the door with dread and gather up your shirt and skirt, along with your panties and bra. You teeter on the balls of your feet, trying to find whatever you might call courage. He gets there first. 

The knock makes you jump. You quickly go to the door and flip back the lock. He opens the door from the other side before you can. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you answer dumbly as you hug your armful of clothes. 

“Oh, you look... nice. Refreshed.” 

“Um, yeah,” you say as you waver. There’s no room to get around him. 

He steps back and waves you out. You carry the clothing into the bedroom to dump in the hamper and turn to find him looming in the doorway. Great. 

“You smell good,” he purrs as he peels off his shirt. 

“Did you lock the door?” You ask. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. You got me here to take care of ya,” he scoffs and hurls the shirt so it just barely clings to the side of the hamper. “Those are some cute jammies.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you look down and pinch the sides of the shorts. 

“Long day,” he stretches and drops his arms, unbuttoning his shorts shamelessly. 

“Yep,” you agree, “be nice to sleep.” 

You go to the edge of the bed and slip beneath the duvet. You tuck your chin down as you hug yourself beneath the fluffy cover and keep your back to him. He flips the light off and you nearly whimper. The bed dips behind you and cool air flows under the blanket as he climbs in behind you. 

You’re not surprised when he swathes you in his thick arm. He pulls you against him, his furry chest flush to you as he purrs. You grasp his forearm and squirm as his heat surrounds you. He nuzzles your hair and plumes hot breath over your scalp. 

“Ain’t this nice? I could spend every night like this,” he growls as he keeps you curled up in one arm as his other hand trails down your side. “Never slept much over in the s—over there.” 

You squeak and stare into the static darkness. You tremble and force out a yawn. Maybe he’ll get the hint. For once. 

“I’m tired too, sweetie,” he toys with the bottom button on your shirt, “I know I’ll sleep all nice and cozy with you.”  

His fingers tickle your lower stomach and crawl beneath the cotton. You go rigid as he creeps up your soft flesh and you latch onto him as you try to stop him. He presses his lips to your crown. 

“Don’t be bad,” he warns in a gristle. 

You let him go with a babble. He brings his hand to cover one side of your chest. He squeezes and lets out a raspy groan. He rolls his hips and you feel he’s in need again. You close your eyes and brace yourself. It’s worse than the couch. You’ve laid yourself down in his trap. 

“You’re so soft, sweetie,” he fondles you, swirling his rough fingertips around your nipple, “so warm...” he inhales your scent and snarls, “you got me hurtin’ so bad.” 

[sightofsea]

good omens post-s2 fic recs

here's a list of fics i found really great so far!! all of these are completed, will go back and add in WIPs once they've finished.

Not for All My Little Words by @mia-ugly and @soft-october-night was the first thing i read post-s2 that i was like yes!!! yes this is it!!! its such a fun banter-y little romp of aziraphale trying to woo crowley with literary quotes as crowley hops around the world. VERY fun

Drinking Buddies and Diaries by dove_dove was another one. it's crowley teaching muriel how to be human and aziraphale getting weirdly jealous and bitchy about it. there's also a lot of aziraphale's diary entries in here. incredibly funny very satisfying ending and completely in line with the humor of the show.

puttin' on the ritz by @moonyinpisces. what can i say that hasn't already been said. funny horny goofy 20s romp. implies that crowley crashed the stock market bc he's googoo gaga. you can't get anything better than this

I'm the treasure baby, I'm the prize by stereobone. crowley takes up sex work only he never fucks the guys, he just hypnotizes them so he can use them as free therapists. just such a good concept and so well executed.

a rarer height by hyruling. this. THIS was the long fic i was waiting for. the arguments are so visceral, the scenery is a absolute gem. the tension and softness is palpable i just wanna lie down in a bed of it. absolute GOAT. emotional wreck for the ages.

Just Once More by NaroMoreau. i'm a simple girl i love a time loop and hoooooo boy does this DELIVER!!!! excellent aziraphale character study. excellent themes excellent language excellent everything.

[valeriianz]

hi! in the spirit of Dreamling Week, here is an updated masterlist, now with clickable links to tags to follow along with a series :) welcome to my corner of the fandom, where it's predominantly human aus!

in time, all of my fics will be transferred to Ao3, so if you're interested in that, follow along here! this list will (finally) include (some) links to fics ive tagged on in reblogs that i usually ignore... but not this time! :'D Everything here is complete unless otherwise stated: (wip)

G - T Rated:

tepid - 1.3k canon, Dream can get sleepy, too

Stay - 1.7k hurt/comfort, vague mafia vibes

the date that never ended - 1.2k humor, established relationship

You Know How That Thrills Me - 2.2k The Devil Wears Prada AU, + blog tag which includes fanart, here!

savvy? - 1.2k pirate au! Hob rescues Dream

daydream - 1.1k fake dating, UST, fitting room pining

Exit Wounds - 2.1k hurt/no comfort, infidelity, angst

call me back for more - 2k NYE, strangers to lovers, sexual tension

scratch a little itch - 5.6k neighbors, pastry chef!Dream and professor!Hob

The magic of the mistletoe - xmas fic, canon

Hob grieves over Dream - canon, vague comic spoilers, angst

Cowboy AU (snippet) - aka Charro!Dream, Mexican rodeo vibes + blog tag with lots of art and collaborators :)

spin the bottle - highschool setting, friends to lovers

Reason in the Noise - 3k+ (wip) musician!Dream, companion piece to Bolt in the Blue (but can be read as a standalone)

Retired!Dream with facial hair along with part 2! - canon(ish), domestic, light spice

The Parent Trap AU and part 2! - loosely inspired by the film.

Hob walks in on Dream dancing - musician!Hob and Dream dancing to his music. marshmallow fluff.

Personal Chef!Hob, single dad Dream - what it says on the tin, part two here! and my 'chef Hob au' tag full of art and recipes!

NYE and slightly possessive Hob - another obligatory New Years Eve fic

The Proposal AU and also a part two! - a couple silly romcom things in collaboration with valiantstarlights here's the tag for it!

Bday fic for ambarden - the night before college graduation, pining,

Road Trip - the start of an idea...

ASMR youtuber!Dream - an add on... Hob is a fan. meet cute

Hard of Hearing Dream - pining, bittersweet, friends to lovers

Spicy/NSFW fics under the cut!

M - E Rated:

Bolt in the Blue - 102k+ (wip) the epic band au, slice of life, fluff, touring. see everything related to this fic in the tag fic: bolt in the blue

skipping breakfast - 667w domestic and a lil spicy

obsession - 1.6k canon, making out on the dancefloor

Fin de siècle - 3.2k vampire hunter!Hob and vampire!Dream

parked - 1.1k canon, car sex, PDA

tease - 1.3k Dream has a vulva, Hob fingers him in a car

ushy gushy pussy Dream - and he refuses to get off Hob's cock

Mr. Gadling's Bodyguard - 11.7k The Hitman's Bodyguard AU, action, humor... second chapter does not relate to the film at all and is just smut

Savory & Sweet - 6k+ (wip) restaurant au, unhinged behavior

Let Me Down Easy - 21k photographer!Hob and model!Dream but they're exes. angst with a happy ending

never enough - 7.3k friends to lovers, love confessions, mutual pining

turn the lights off - 3.3k phone sex, side fic inspired by by the minute by issylra

kiss me properly (and pull me apart) - 4.2k Hob wears a butt plug all day (lol) inspired by this incredible art by messmonte

Dream stepping on Hob - power imbalance, PWP

Bathtub shenanigans - a bit of relaxation ;)

Hob as Sexy Santa - and Dream can't handle it

Celebrity Dream and his normie bf Hob - inspired by that 3am photo of Ferdie looking all sweaty and disheveled

One of Your Girls AU - an ask fic/prompt i sent to Gabe and she added on <3

Let Me Down Easy [deleted scene] - they get frisky the morning after

Dream can feel Hob's lewd daydreams

Bi-curious Dream - basically a summary/headcanon of what i think Dream having his bi awakening with Hob would be like. and then hardly-an-escape went and wrote a full ass fic about it. but im counting this anyway lmao

#my writing

btw i am so sorry, yes i did give up on including the word count. i just... gave up. but everything without a word count is most likely under 1.5k.

[grounded-parasocial]

Wille’s Month 2024-

prompt 14- Mental Health

As mental health is kinda my thing, I thought I would gather some fanfiction recommendations where Wille’s mental health is integral to the story as well as beautifully represented. One of the thing I really enjoy about YR fans and writers (or the little bubble I have curated for myself) is the way everyone validates, supports and makes space for mental health.

Everyone’s mental health journey is personal and I feel that truth in our writers stories, in how they embody Wille and Simon, and sometimes, I think I can even hear their therapist’s voices whispering from in between the lines. Even knowing not everyone is writing from personal experience, I still can’t help but feel grateful for the way writers make us feel and understand their struggles with constant care and compassion.

Because its Wille’s Month, I have tried to give suggestions where Wille’s MH is at the forefront or equally present and some variation in presentation - depression, body dismorphia, trauma/ptsd, ocd, substance abuse, autism, suicide, self-harm, burn-out, disordered eating and grief. Please mind the tags in each story.

There are also so many stunning depictions where Simon’s struggle is the louder voice, and it absolutely pains me not to include some of those here, but if people are interested, I would be happy to share Simon’s list too.

And that’s how we make history, baby @waybeforeyourtime (T, WIP 82K)

Yours to Keep -Series by fitz_y (T/E, 165K)

Känsla by despassurlaneige (E, 202K)

True Colors by DemiLune13 (M, 97K)

Wear Your Independence like a crown @earlgrey-lateatnight (T, WIP 22K)

Obviously @grapehyasynth (M, 124K) both

I don’t feel like our love is brand new @prince-simon (E, WIP 395K)

There are Many Names in History @prplewille by aqua_rius (E, 68K)

The road not taken looks real good now @stretchoutfics (E, 90K)

Almost is Never Enough @in-amor-veritas (E, WIP 202K)

You Don’t Have to Hurt Anymore by wilmonxoxo (G, 210K)

I would drive on (to the end with you) @glassdollls (unrated, WIP 118K)

-also take a deep breath and chase it with mine (T, 4K)

I’m Losing By Your Side @unfortunate17 (M, 10K)

Terrified the present will not last by FakeButILikeYou (T, 5K)

Where we left off @gulliblelemon (T, 84K)

Finding Home @ishotforthestars by Elin98 (G, WIP 19K)

the human eye is god’s loneliest creation @prplewille by aqua_rius (M, WIP 32K)

just a feeling, falling in repeat @ungaroyals part of the Rewrite the Stars Series (T, 6K)

Sending my love, admiration and gratitude to all our brave yr writers!! 💜

Be kind to yourself and be kind to one another!

*its a community so please add any additions I may have missed

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Barbarian Bat: Part Four

A/N: Omg we're back again! I would like to apologize for this taking so long. I genuinely forgot about this fic. That's the lesson here. Don't be like me and have so many WIPs you accidentally forget your own fics.... anyways! Happy Lover day of @cassianappreciationweek! Hope everyone enjoys some blue alien man Cassian and some NSFW goodies!

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part

When Nesta blinks her eyes open, she feels more rested than she has in days, in much longer if she dares to admit it. The fog in her mind has finally cleared, the hollow ache in her chest finally dissipated, and for once, all Nesta feels is warm and content. It has her burrowing deeper into her furs, has her basking, if just for a moment longer, in the heat of the fire in front of her.

And the fire along her back.

Perhaps, she can blame the way she’s not fully awake yet, the way her mind is still trying to shake those final twisting vines of sleep. But it takes her a moment too long to register the weight across her waist, the warm hand splayed across her stomach and holding her close.

It all comes back to her in a rush fast enough to knock her off her feet, threatening to pull her under and drown her beneath dark waves. The Elder Cave. The metlaks. Cassian.

Almost instinctively, Nesta’s entire body tenses, a hand flying to her chest to press where her khui lives beneath her skin. She waits for the inevitable purring to fill the cave, for Cassian to make some comment and that awkward air that had cloyed against her skin like nails last night to return. Waits for the inevitable conversation about what will happen next, what they will do next.

But it never comes.

Cassian doesn’t even stir behind her, his breaths still slow and steady. Each one has his chest brushing along her spine, has warm air skittering across the crown of her head where he has his face buried in her hair. It shouldn’t be as relaxing as it is, but it’s a soothing balm over each and every one of Nesta’s frayed nerves, her muscles unwinding with each counted breath of his.

She’s not sure that she deserves it, this comfort. She certainly doesn’t deserve the male still sleeping so peacefully behind her as if he somehow finds comfort in her. How could anyone ever find comfort amongst the prickling thorns of her soul? If she gives in to the quiet of the cave enough, she can still hear Tomas’s words echoing and clamoring for attention in the back of her mind, can still feel his grimy hands on her body.

Even worse is the way she can still hear her mother’s voice too. Nesta is sure that back on Earth, her mother is rolling in her grave at Nesta being mated of all things to a big, blue alien man. It’s nowhere near the high-powered family name and riches her mother prepared her for, molded her for, expected of her. Another failure to add to Nesta’s lengthy list.

That familiar ache starts to solidify in Nesta’s chest, curling and piercing like claws around her heart. It sends ice flooding through her veins, has heat beginning to press behind her eyes, and Nesta takes a deep, stuttering breath against the way it gnaws and numbs at her insides.

A soft mumble of words sounds from behind her, and then Cassian’s arm curls tighter around her, tugging her back even closer against him. With his large size, it leaves his body practically curled fully around hers now, like his own sort of protective shield and cocoon. She hates that it works, that it has the voices in her mind quieting, Cassian somehow comforting her even when he’s fast asleep.

“Stupid alien,” Nesta mutters under her breath.

Despite her words, Nesta allows herself to give in to the comfort, allows herself to count each of Cassian’s breaths and match her own to them. Until her muscles finally unwind and relax, until all she can hear is no voices but just the quiet of the cave. With a soft sigh, her eyes flutter closed again, sleep curling back around her limbs as surely as the warmth between the furs, as the male wrapped around her.

When Nesta next opens her eyes again, she finds herself alone in the furs. She frowns, scrubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes until the cave comes into full focus. The fire has been stoked back to life, flickering flames filling the cave with light and warmth. Cassian sits just beside it, hunched over slightly. He has a stone in one hand and what looks to be some sort of bone in the other.

For a moment, Nesta just watches him. Watches the way his hands work, knocking and sliding the stone against the bone. Watches the way his forearms flex, muscles working with the movements. Watches the way his mouth twists while he concentrates, his lips shifting until the left side tugs up into an all too familiar smirk.

“I have burned you some quill-beast meat.”

Cassian doesn’t look up from the task he’s doing, and Nesta is glad. She can feel heat creeping up her neck and threatening to spill across her cheeks at being caught staring. With a huff, she sits up, pushing the furs off her legs and shifting closer to the fire.

“Thanks,” she mutters, taking some of the quill-beast meat and nibbling on it. “What are you making?”

Cassian holds his hand up, and Nesta realizes it’s a knife that he’s been carving. “It is for you. I have used a small bone, so you will be able to grip it comfortably.”

Nesta can do nothing but blink dumbly at him, her mind reeling and trying desperately to wrap around his words, what they mean. Her silence doesn’t seem to deter Cassian. He reaches forward, warm fingers curling around the wrist of Nesta’s right hand. He draws it closer to him and turns her hand until it’s palm up, gently placing the handle of the knife against it.

“You will want to keep a firm grip with all fingers,” Cassian explains, guiding her fingers to curl around the handle, her thumb pressed over her forefinger and middle finger.

“Why?” Nesta whispers, finally finding her voice.

“If your grip is too loose, your hand will slide when you strike. Keeping any fingers off the handle will risk cutting on the blade.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Cassian sighs softly, pulling his hand away from hers. “I told you that I would train you. I want to help you feel safe, Nes.”

Nesta looks down at the knife in her hand, carved so carefully with care. Her fingers flex and tighten around the handle. It’s certainly the perfect size, the perfect weight for her. A lump presses painfully against her throat, threatening to choke her, and she has to swallow hard around it.

“What will you do?” Nesta asks, desperate for a change in topic. “When we go back to the main cave?”

Cassian’s brows pinch, his lips dipping down into a small frown, as though he’s really thinking about it. “I will return to my hunting duties. I am sure they will need me back on the trails. Perhaps, I will volunteer to take one of the trails that is a farther journey. Many males have not wanted to take such journeys, especially since the humans have arrived.”

“You won’t want to stay at the cave and find someone new? I’m sure plenty of the women would be more than happy to share your furs.”

Even as she tries to force the teasing words, the joke falls flat even to Nesta’s own ears. It doesn’t change the fact behind them, though. She’s certainly seen the way some of the other women look at Cassian, at his broad shoulders and large hands, at his easy smiles and kind disposition. She’s seen the way they offer flirty smiles of their own. And she hates the way the thought has a sour emotion suspiciously close to jealousy churning in her gut.

“I do not wish for anyone else to share my furs,” Cassian tells her quietly. “There will never be anyone else for me, Nes. I would always choose you. Even if you do not choose me.”

The confession has Nesta’s breath catching in her lungs. Of course, it’s that moment that her khui decides to voice its own thoughts on the matter, thrumming to life. Cassian’s own khui begins to hum in response, the cave quickly filling with the purring sound. His gaze drops down at the response, his hand rubbing at his chest.

“But I hope you will still allow me to train you,” Cassian continues, meeting her eyes again. “So you can feel strong. Feel safe.”

“I feel safe with you.”

The words are out before Nesta can stop them, but it’s the truth. She knows that Cassian would never hurt her, that he'd never let anything hurt her. She knows that he’ll always protect her and have her back, even when she keeps pushing him away. Because he wants to. Because he cares.

When was the last time anyone truly cared about her?

Nesta's been fighting tooth and nail for what feels like her whole life. Fighting against the pressures and expectations placed upon her by her grandmother and mother. Fighting against Tomas and his words and his hands scraping against her skin. Fighting for her sisters. Fighting against her own failures and demons trying to drag her down under the raging waves.

And if Nesta is being completely honest with herself, she's tired.

“I will always keep you safe, Nes,” Cassian tells her, hesitating for just a moment before his hand reaches out and closes around hers. “No matter what. You leave, and I will follow. Always.”

“Why?” Nesta whispers, the pressure in her chest threatening to swallow her whole.

“You are my mate.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it’s as easy as breathing. “You were mine from the moment you landed here, the moment I saw you. And I am yours.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that. You shouldn’t be kind to me.”

“Am I supposed to be cruel to you?”

“Yes.” Cassian frowns at her answer, his hand shifting to cradle her face. His thumb slides across the apple of her cheek, swiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized slipped free. “I’ve been cruel to you.”

“I told you that I like our game, our back and forth. I wish for more of it.”

Nesta rolls her eyes before she can stop it, the laugh that tumbles free from her throat so at odds with their current conversation. But judging by the grin that tugs across Cassian’s face, drawing the reaction was his exact intention all along.

She doesn’t know how he keeps doing that, making her feel better, putting her at ease. How he keeps seeing her, truly seeing her past every cut and bruise and mask. How he keeps holding every jagged and broken piece of her and holding them like they’re precious rather than something that needs to be sanded down or fixed.

How he keeps being everything she needs, everything she wants.

She glances back down at the knife still in her hand, and it all hits her with a stark sort of clarity she doesn’t think she’s ever had, that she certainly didn’t think was possible these past few days. It settles with surety in her chest, around her heart like a golden thread, and determination straightens her spine. Setting the knife aside, Nesta pushes up to her feet, Cassian making a confused sound as he watches her.

“Do you not like it?”

“Who cares about the knife?” Nesta fires back, stepping closer and into Cassian’s space.

Cassian’s brow furrows in confusion, even as his hands come up to rest on her hips almost instinctively. “Are you well, Nes?”

“Stupid alien,” Nesta mutters under her breath.

She settles her own hands on either side of Cassian’s jaw, tilting his head up to where she wants him and pressing her mouth against his. She remembers a moment too late that the sa-khui don’t kiss, Cassian all but freezing against her. But then he’s responding with fervor, lips moving in tandem with hers. His fingers tighten around her hips, hauling her closer still until their chests are pressed together.

She lets him lead, lets him get a feel for mouth-mating as the sa-khui have been calling it. His tongue presses past the seam of her lips, sliding into her mouth, and Nesta has to hold back a whimper. The other women back at the cave had certainly spoken about the… differences when it came to the sa-khui compared to the men back on Earth, but no one had warned her that their tongues had ridges.

His tongue slides and drags against her own, flicks along the roof of her mouth, and Nesta is all but putty in his hands. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’s surprised how good at kissing he is for a beginner, but she also can’t find it within herself to care. She dares to bury a hand in Cassian’s hair, tugging at the dark strands, and Cassian groans into her mouth, his tail flicking forward to curl around her thigh as though holding her in place. As if she has any intention of stopping now that she’s had a taste.

“I now understand why the other males enjoy mouth-mating,” Cassian pulls back enough to say. He reaches a hand up to Nesta’s face, his large palm spanning her whole jaw and down to her neck, dragging his thumb along her bottom lip that she’s sure is kiss bitten and pink.

“So then why’d you stop kissing me?” Nesta asks, leaning back down to steal another kiss.

Cassian groans again against her lips, his fangs teasing at her bottom lip before he pulls away again. “Perhaps, I wish to kiss other parts of you, my mate.”

Nesta swallows hard, her voice breathless even to her own ears when she asks, “like where?”

The smirk that pulls its way across Cassian’s face is slow and all male bravado. One of those large hands slides along her back and curls back around to her waist, cradling her against his body. He keeps his grip on her, even as he pushes up and to his feet, as he shifts them both. The cave is small enough that Nesta barely has time to react to the movement before her back is pressed into the furs.

Cassian dips his head again, but this time, his lips latch onto her neck. His mouth is hot as it slides across her skin, fangs scraping right against her pulse point until Nesta is shuddering against him. She tilts her head back, presenting him with more access and keening when Cassian moves his attention to that spot just behind her ear.

“Cassian,” Nesta moans softly, arching her body up, desperate to get even closer to him.

“I like the sound of my name from your sweet mouth,” Cassian murmurs against her skin.

His hands slip beneath the leather fabric of her shirt, sliding up over her waist and leaving heat seeping beneath her skin. His fingers flex, squeezing the flesh, and Cassian groans where his face is still buried at her neck. His khui practically echoes the sound, his whole chest all but vibrating where it presses against Nesta’s own.

“You’re so soft.”

The words are enough to give Nesta pause, to pull a genuine laugh out of her. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes,” Cassian answers easily in that same matter of fact tone of his. His hands continue sliding up, lifting her shirt up completely and tugging it off. “I like it. You are not hard like the sa-khui.”

With her arms newly freed from her shirt, Cassian’s fingers circle around her wrist. He guides her own hand to his chest, sliding it down over his pectorals, over the muscles of his abdomen. Despite the almost suede softness of his skin, despite the warmth that exudes from him, there’s no denying the hard planes just beneath. Her fingers curl of their own accord, a shiver skittering down her spine that has nothing to do with her chest now being exposed to the cool air of the cave.

“We might need to start some sort of flirting lessons on this planet,” Nesta teases, desperate to regain some sort of control.

“Are you not impressed with me, Nes?” Cassian teases right back.

He pulls back enough that he can push to his feet, his hands reaching for the laces of his pants. It’s with slow, careful movements that he unties the knot, his eyes never leaving Nesta’s face. But Nesta’s own gaze dips to where he finishes loosening the laces, to where his pants drop away and to the ground. Her mouth goes dry as he tears away his loincloth and tosses it aside, his already hard cock bobbing free.

He’s large, certainly larger than any man Nesta ever saw back on Earth, and his cock is thick. She can see the vein running along the underside of it, the set of ridges along the top, the horn-type piece protruding that Nesta assumes must be the spur she’s heard the other women in the cave mention. The head of his cock is thicker than the rest, a darker blue than his whole body, and already it glistens with his own arousal.

“Are you impressed with me now?”

Nesta’s attention dances back to Cassian’s face, and she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised to find that cocksure smirk of his firmly in place, glowing eyes practically sparking with male pride.

She intends to wipe that look clean off his face.

It takes some shifting against the furs, but Nesta is able to shimmy out of her leggings, leaving her fully bare. She leans back on her hands, bending her knees and spreading her thighs. It’s well worth it for the reaction she garners, satisfaction burning bright in her chest at Cassian’s expression, at the way he literally drops to his knees before her.

“Nesta,” Cassian whispers, his voice reverent. His hands skate over her ankles, up her calves and thighs. “I must be the luckiest of males for my khui to resonate for you.”

Nesta surges forward, crashing her mouth against his before he can say anything else. He responds immediately, capturing her lower lip in his mouth and sucking. He’s clearly gotten too good at kissing already, but Nesta can’t find it within herself to care, especially when Cassian tears his mouth away to press hot kisses down her throat and across her collarbones.

His mouth closes around one of her breasts, and Nesta all but arches up against his face. With her khui vibrating in her chest, it only adds to the sensation licking like flames down her spine. She feels needier than she ever thought possible, the inside of her thighs already sticky and wet with it. She knows it’s her khui to blame for how keyed-up she feels, but it’s hard to care when all she can focus on is the heat of Cassian’s body pressed against her skin, the feel of his tongue swirling over her nipple, the ache in her cunt that she knows can only be filled by the male above her.

“Cassian,” Nesta pleads, bucking her hips up against him.

“Is there something that you need, sweetheart?” Cassian teases, shifting his mouth’s attention to her other breast.

Nesta moans again, grasping onto one of Cassian’s horns desperately. “Please. Cassian, please.”

“I enjoy the sound of you begging even more.”

Cassian’s mouth never leaves her skin, but he begins to trace a path down, along her sternum, over her stomach, across her hip bones. His hands slip up and tighten around her thighs, prying them far apart to make room for his big, alien body. It’s a simply obscene sight, her legs thrown over a set of blue shoulders, a head of dark curly hair and horns between her thighs. His warm breath fans across her cunt, and already, she can feel herself clenching in anticipation.

“Already so wet for me,” Cassian groans softly. “They say there is no sweeter taste than that of a resonance mate, and I cannot wait to find out.”

Before Nesta can fully register Cassian’s words, before she can say anything back, Cassian presses his mouth against her. Just the first lick has her gasping, her thighs squeezing instinctively around his head, but the reaction only seems to encourage Cassian. He devours her with a ferocity that has her seeing stars.

Suddenly, she feels like she understands why he was so good at kissing because the way he uses his mouth is practically unfair. She can feel every bumpy ridge along his tongue as it slides and swirls against her clit, and her toes curl at the sensation. And then he spears that tongue into her. It reaches deeper than any human could, those ridges dragging along the walls of her cunt.

Nesta cries out, it all too much and not enough at the same time. It feels too good, and she tries to rock her hips, tries to ride Cassian’s face, but his grip tightens on her thighs, holding her in place exactly how he wants her. Too fast heat pools low in Nesta’s gut, threatening to send her tumbling over the edge already, but she can’t find it within herself to care so long as Cassian doesn’t stop doing what he’s doing.

She whines at the loss when he pulls away, but at least, it gives herself a chance to catch her breath. She tilts her head enough that she can look down, but it’s instantly a mistake. His lips and chin are coated in her arousal, and he licks his lips with a groan, smirk still out in full force as his fingers flex against her skin.

“As sweet as I expected.”

That’s Nesta’s only warning before Cassian dives right back in. He focuses his tongue’s attention back on her clit, slipping one of his hands down so that he can sink a finger into her cunt. It’s all that Nesta needs, all that it takes for her orgasm to tear through her like a tidal wave. Her back bows off the furs, but Cassian doesn’t stop. He continues to lick at her and rock his finger, his ferocity and eagerness only seeming to grow with her release.

“Cass… Cassian…” Nesta chokes out between gasps, trying to squirm away from his ministrations and the overstimulation.

Cassian growls, gripping her hips and yanking her right back over his mouth. “Mine.”

For a moment, Nesta isn’t sure where one orgasm ends and the next one begins. Her entire body feels like it’s ablaze, head dizzy with the pleasure of it all. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’s aware that she might be screaming Cassian’s name.

At least, Cassian finally relents, his tongue swiping one last time through the mess of her two orgasms before his mouth pulls away. Nesta slumps back against the furs, her chest heaving and aftershocks still skittering down her spine. She can feel Cassian’s hands slide down from her hips and over her thighs, humming at the warmth of his touch. Her eyes flutter open, and she finds Cassian still on his knees before her, his own glowing eyes half lidded and watching her.

“The next time we do this,” Nesta begins, still catching her breath. “Remind me to teach you about blowjobs.”

Cassian blinks a few times, his head tilting to the side, and Nesta wonders how that translates for him, what sort of imagery the word draws forth. But she doesn’t expect him to smile. It’s a slow thing, the way it pulls across his face, and it’s lopsided. Just the sight of it has Nesta’s heart skipping a beat between her ribs, and she has to swallow hard before she finds her voice again.

“What’s that look for?”

“You said next time,” Cassian explains, leaning over her until his face hovers above her own, that same dopey smile still firmly in place.

Nesta can feel a blush creeping up her neck and threatening to spill across her cheeks, but she refuses to look away from his gaze. “Well, yeah. We’re mates, right?”

“We must accept resonance first to make it official.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Nesta challenges, lifting her legs enough that she can hook them around Cassian’s hips.

“I would like to kiss you again.”

The earnestness of his voice is enough to give Nesta pause. Enough for her heart to trip over itself and warmth to flood between her ribs. This stupid alien. Stupid alien with his warmth and kindness and tender care. Stupid alien with his heart so proudly on his sleeve, handing over that heart to Nesta without a second thought, without an ounce of fear or worry. Who cradled Nesta’s own heart so carefully before she even realized she’d placed it in his awaiting palms.

And he’s all hers.

“You don’t have to ask. You can just–”

Before Nesta can even finish speaking, Cassian leans down and seals their lips together. The kiss is surprisingly gentle. It’s at odds with the way Cassian’s hands slide under her ass, lifting and tilting her hips up. At odds with the way the head of his cock slides across her cunt and the arousal pooled there.

His tongue presses into her mouth at the same moment he thrusts his hips forward, sinking his cock into her. Nesta gasps against his lips, her head falling back against the furs. It’s indescribable, the way he presses so deep, the way he stretches and fills her. She swears she can feel every ridge along his cock, that vein that runs along the underside. And gods, the spur. It somehow glides perfectly along her clit like another finger, only adding to the intensity of it all.

“Look at how you take me,” Cassian breathes, his attention locked on where they’re joined. “You were made to take my cock, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” Nesta whimpers, clenching down around him.

“That’s it,” Cassian praises, dragging his mouth over her neck and finding that spot that has her clenching again. “That’s a good girl.”

Nesta tries to buck her hips up against Cassian’s hold. “Please. Cassian, please.”

Cassian groans, but he pulls his hips back just to snap them back forward again. Nesta thought the stretch of his cock was one thing, but the drag of those ridges along the walls of her cunt with each hard thrust has her every nerve ending flaring with pleasure and heat. She lets out a loud moan, fingers slipping against Cassian’s skin as she digs her nails into his shoulders.

“We will need a cave far from the others if these are the sweet sounds you will make each time your cunt welcomes my cock.”

Cassian continues to rock his hips, setting a brutal pace. His cock somehow sinks deeper still with every thrust, his spur pressing tantalizingly against her clit. It’s all that Nesta can focus on, that burning pleasure, the way it threatens to swallow her whole. She can think of no better way to go, lost into those flames with the male above her.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta gasps out between moans. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Do not worry, Nes. I do not intend to,” Cassian pushes out between gritted teeth, clearly just as affected as she is. “I intend to have your delicious cunt wrapped around me every night until you are carrying my kit and then every night after that still.”

The imagery and the future it paints tugs a fresh litany of moans from Nesta’s chest and past her lips. She’s not sure she’s ever been this turned on in her life. She can feel the absolute mess she’s making between her thighs, can hear the wet slap of skin echoing off the walls of the cave around her, but it’s hard to care when Cassian continues to play her body like his own personal instrument.

“Do you like that, my sweet mate? I can feel the way you’re squeezing me.”

“Yes! Please. I need…”

Nesta doesn’t even have time to finish speaking, another choked off moan tearing through her. Cassian picks up the pace, slamming his hips against her own. Each hard drive of his cock sends her cresting higher still, release glimmering just within reach.

“Then come for me, Nes. Come all over my cock.”

One of Cassian’s hands slides up to her breast, thumb dragging against her nipple and palm kneading at the flesh. It’s all it takes to push Nesta over the edge. She all but screams Cassian’s name, spots dancing behind her eyelids as she arches up off the furs. Cassian groans against her ear, only snapping his hips a few more times before he stills above her. His cock twitches deep within her, flooding her cunt with warmth and his own release. It has her moaning again, has her cunt fluttering still and milking his cock.

She slumps back against the furs, taking a moment to catch her breath. Her heart continues to pound in her chest, but there’s silence otherwise in the cave, her and Cassian’s khuis finally quieting. It’s jarring, but there’s a peace to it too, wrapped up in this cave with Cassian’s warm body pressed against hers.

He pulls out of her, but he doesn’t go far, settling beside her in the furs. Nesta barely has time to shiver at the loss, at the cool air of the cave settling over her, before Cassian rearranges the furs to cover them both. His arms wrap back around her waist, tugging her to close to lay across his chest.

“Now we are mates,” Cassian declares proudly, burying one of his hands amongst the strands of Nesta’s hair.

Nesta snorts softly, but she curls tighter into Cassian’s embrace. “Guess you’re well and truly stuck with me now.”

“Stuck? I am not stuck.”

“It’s just a joke,” Nesta consoles him, patting his chest soothingly.

“I do not like this joke. I told you, Nes. I am the luckiest male to resonate with you,” Cassian tells her, his tone fierce.

“I know,” Nesta whispers. She shifts and turns her head up enough that she can meet Cassian’s gaze. “I’m lucky too, you know.”

Cassian smiles softly, the expression taking over his face in the most beautiful way. His hand moves from her hair to her cheek, his fingers carefully tracing over her features. Nesta’s eyes flutter closed at the gentle touch, and she leans fully into him, leans into the comfortable warmth this male gives her.

“My Nesta,” Cassian says, his own voice quiet, revenant. “My heart. My world.”

“Is that a declaration of love?”

“And if it is?”

Nesta opens her eyes again, unable to bite back the smile threatening to spill across her own face. “Then I’d say good. Because I love you too.”

—

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[yeyinde]

So i had this thought, what if Ghost was a doll maker? He makes those creepy human sized dolls, his shop is in an isolated part of the city (a lot of people purposely avoid his shop because of the bad vibes) and he spends most of his time in his basement carving. He also makes curses and haunted things and then he creates you, a beautiful doll. You are one of his many creations but a bit different. You yearn for him, crave his touch. He is your creator, basically your god and you need his love. He couldn't care less though always complains about creating a needy doll while secretly enjoying how she worships him

Honestly i don't even know if this makes sense lmao just wanted to leave it here

i adore this. i love this particular subgenre (esp when it's horror/dark romance) of building/making something that becomes obsessed with you. ai, androids, dolls, frankensteinian monsters. i'll take them alllll. creator x creation, my beloved. what you originally start as something meant to be symbiotic that devolves and changes into something parasitic?? ruinous? goddddd. that's my raison d'etre.

and this is such a unique spin!!!!! usually it's Frankenstein's monster x hapless human so the idea of you being the thing made by Ghost to satiate some aspect he's yearning for instead the other way around is so intriguing to me.

like maybe he starts out making something to occupy himself. doesn't really have any clear direction. and if we want to add in some layers, maybe "you" were someone he saw in passing. a person he was once obsessed with/couldn't save, etc. but maybe "you" died. and this is a replica, an effigy. except. we have endless warnings in mythology and religion about making something in the likeness of another. cue some well placed lightening, and then bang. you wake up. and he isn't sure how to handle you not really being "you."

(also: this is giving me an incredible idea for a Ghoap story 👀 might fuck around and write something GROTESQUE about Simon making "Johnny" because he can't move on and what comes to life is. well. i'm also def adding this to the Simon x Reader wip list w full creds (on both accounts, Ghoap and x Reader), because, op, this is such a godtier idea and ahhhhhhhhhh)

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home: Chapter 2 Part 2

It's Wednesday! Time for another WIP Wednesday. No Ghost!Robin today. I've been focusing more on this fic. I think I'm going to try and start alternating weeks, but there's no set schedule or plan and it's liable to change at a moment's notice.

Fic Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

1.3k words

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Cassie hissed, “What the fuck, Tim!”

“I know!” whispered Tim back. “Danny mentioned home security, but I had no idea it was like that!”

Bart shook his head. “Want help with that kidnapping scheme? I’ll join you on your road to villainy.”

“That’s the problem with Tim,” agreed Conner. “He makes the road to evil look like it’s really the best option. Count me in, too.”

Cassie groaned. “Damn it, you guys are right. I’m in.”

Before Tim could do more than flip them off, Danny was back. “The pop express has returned!”

Cassie was closest to the door and Danny passed over her drink first. Only to freeze as their fingers brushed.

“Oh,” said Danny who looked at their hands then up at Cassie and back to their hands. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Cassie and Tim started to get a bad feeling.

Which was only worsened by Danny looking at him with a grin forming on his face. “Sooooo, Tim—”

“No!” Tim shook a finger at him. “You’d better not tell me what I think you’re about to tell me! You’re OP enough! No more!”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You done?”

Tim sighed and decided to just collapse backwards onto Danny’s bed. He stared at the ceiling and waved a hand in the air. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

Danny, apparently, loved making him suffer and continued passing out the drinks without telling him what he discovered. Then the mattress dipped next to him and Danny was above him with a grin that wouldn’t melt butter.

“So, Tii-iim,” Danny sing-songed.

“Daaan-ny,” replied Tim in the same tone.

“Apparently I can sense metas. And aliens. Which is so cool. They feel so different to humans! I knew about my ghost sense, but didn’t realize that applied to other species.”

Tim just sighed and closed his eyes. “Of course you can.”

“Conner!” The mattress shifted again as Danny moved. “You feel like warm sunshine and it’s so cool. Bart, you feel like static. Which… little awkward for me, but it’ll be good. I should try and get over my fear of electricity. Cassie, you also feel like static, but in a totally different way. Can’t explain it any better than that.”

“Why is static a problem?” asked Bart.

At the same time, Tim said, “I’ll add it to the list. And the descriptions.” He cracked one eye open to look at Danny. “Will you promise to stop developing more powers for me?”

Danny laughed and nudged his knee. “No promises.”

Cassie looked between them. “Does this mean you know?” she asked Danny.

“Wonder Girl, right? And Superboy and Impulse?”

Cassie nodded. “And Tim told us about you.”

“My lips are sealed,” Danny promised.

Tim rolled his eyes and pushed himself up. “Just gimme my water and fix my phone.”

“Wow, Tim,” said Cassie. “Rude much?”

“No. Look, you’ve no idea how ridiculously OP Danny is. Almost every week he calls me saying he discovered something else he can do.”

“If you think that was rude,” added Danny with a laugh, “you should’ve seen the things he said to me when I got him killed in Elf Night.”

“Ugh,” Tim feigned annoyance. “Don’t remind me. Honestly, what were you thinking? You were a rogue! Why did you attack the boss head on like a barbarian? We lost weeks of game progress! Weeks, Danny!”

Danny just laughed and threw the water bottle at his face. Tim caught it easily.

“Just give me your phone, Slim-Slam.”

“Slim-Slam?” asked Conner.

“He tried to object to Tim-Tam. I made him regret it.”

Tim shook his head. “This was a mistake. Why the hell did I ever think it’d be a good idea to let you guys meet.” To hopefully get them to change the subject, he shoved his phone in Danny’s direction. “What do you need to do to this anyway?”

“We just need to make it compatible with ectoplasm. There’s enough ambient ecto in Amity that waiting a few weeks allows it to happen naturally, but that’s not an option for you guys. Tuck and I went through, like, fifty devices figuring out the exact quantities and locations to add ectoplasm to force the process without destroying the device. It took us ages, but we figured it out. Now Tuck and I get extra money from the tech geeks in town who don’t want to wait the month or so it usually takes for new devices to start working.”

“Speaking of Tucker, will I be able to meet him? And Sam? You’re meeting my friends, I want to meet yours.”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. I’ll text them to meet us at Nasty Burger in forty minutes.” He sat at his desk and set down Tim’s phone to do so. Then, he opened a drawer and pulled out a set of micropipettes and disposable tips in a variety of sizes along with an empty glass beaker. Then came out an electronics tool kit. Tim had a similar one, though Danny’s looked like it had been obtained piecemeal as nothing matched. Finally, he opened a different drawer and pulled out a vial of a glowing green liquid.

Tim pushed himself off the bed and moved to stand over Danny’s shoulder. His friends joined him.

Bart asked, “So what will you be doing? What’s that green stuff?”

“It’s ectoplasm. The stuff ghosts and their dimension are made of. Ectoplasm is… complicated. This is unshaped ectoplasm, also called pure ectoplasm. A ghost or sentient creature can impose their will on it and make it function in a specific way. Since I’ve died, I have an easier time shaping it than most humans. I’ll send ‘tech’ vibes at it to get it to fuse to the phone more easily and apply carefully determined quantities to the different parts of the phone.”

“‘Tech vibes.’” Tim couldn’t hold back the groan. “It’s like magic. I hate it.”

Cassie bumped her shoulder against his. “You get that from Bruce.”

“Damn right, I do.”

Tim watched as Danny popped out the sim card. “First thing I’ll do is add a hundred microliters to the sim card. Then I’ll take the screen off and get to work on the innards. Do you guys want new batteries, by the way? Tuck’s got a bunch of ecto-batteries. Could have him bring them along when we meet up. You’d never have to charge your phone again.”

“Hell yeah!” said Conner. “Sign me right up.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t hold back the smile. “What do you mean by never have to charge it again?”

“I mean an ecto-battery will power the phone longer than the computer in the phone will last. I’ve switched over all my electronics. Nothing in this house is hooked up to the electricity grid anymore. I haven’t used a wall plug in four months. Not since Tucker and I fixed the batteries my parents designed.”

Tim didn’t like the sound of that. “Two questions. First, if the battery outlasts the phone, how should we dispose of it. And two, more importantly, ‘fixed’? What the hell does that mean?”

Danny had finished with the sim card and discarded the pipette tip in the beaker. Then he set about removing the screen from the phone. “Just bring the phones back to me when you’re done with them. I’ll upgrade your new ones, too. And their designs were liable to explode, overload the device, or bring it to life so it attacked. But Tuck and I took care of all that. Now devices only attack if Technus manages to get through the portal.”

Tim could sense Conner trying to look at him, but he resolutely refused to look away from Danny’s hands. He was removing the cameras and adding more ectoplasm to them, though much less than the sim card needed.

Unable to get Tim’s attention, Conner asked, “Who’s Technus?”

Danny shrugged. “One of my rogues. Tuck thinks he’s the ghost of Nikolai Tesla. He’s interested in controlling all technology and will make himself a giant mechasuit cannibalized from any electronic he can find in, like, a half mile radius. Super annoying.”

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Next

So I've decided which episode of the show this will take place during! It's mid season 1, so Jazz knows about Danny but Danny doesn't know she knows. I don't think that contradicts anything I've written (need to reread it), but if it does, no it doesn't. I dunno if most of you know what micropipettes look like, but if there's any interest I can take pics at work tomorrow and post them so you can see what I mean when I talk about the tips and stuff. I meant to do that today and then I didn't.

Tag List

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Getting close to the point where I'll have to split the tag list in two! (I'll still add anyone who is interested.)