#Slight episode diverging

[unknownmusing]

Torchwood Fanfic: 'The First Tale of the Immortal Storyteller'

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

Summary:

Hidden away in a small, undisturbed village located in a valley, a person called Javin Boeshane - a simple, book-keeper and writer, plus Historical Document Collecter - doesn't expect when they went to work that their peaceful, calm life would be shattered by the arrival of.....

....Torchwood and the person called Captain Jack Harkness.

So, begins a series of events all leading to a deep, dark secret which has been buried for some time and waiting to be told.

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

Notes:

- An idea that came to mind after watching the last episode of Season 4 of Torchwood, where the learn about the thing called 'The Blessing' - Slight episode diverging, but will be including episode moments etc - Title refers to how Javin records information in Tales which can be spread to generation to generation or be for ones he closely considers family or friends. - In this Cristopf is the Ninth Doctor from parallel universe, where will explain more in further chapters as fic progresses.

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

Prologue - 'The Immortal Storyteller'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage - Early Morning

Javin Boeshane's P.O.V:

The steady chime coming from the large Grandfather clock located downstairs in the hallway, brings me out of trying to finish the manuscript for my next book on the typewriter leaning back in my wooden chair to look out the study window at the white, wispy clouds rolling their way across the skyline.

In the place where I live, built for an important purpose is an alien refuge village for various species of aliens who over millennium have chosen to land or crash-land on planet Earth seeking somewhere to survive - away from what has happened to them in their solar systems. 

Precise location of The Boeshane Cottage  - my home - situated above the hidden valley helps in protecting the place from being discovered by UNIT or any other mysterious, hidden organisations who might came to investigate the strange, anomaly they might detect with their equipment or they learn about it from a Witness - referring to ordinary, human beings who accidentally stumbled upon the area, most of them minority being:

Hikers, who'd gotten lost exploring the Highlands; Tourists or Archealogists curious in rumours about a hidden village and finally, UFO Hunters who assisted aliens existed and had spotted some in the Highlands.

Dragging both of my hands down my face, I decide to put the manuscript I've been typing up on hold for now. There is no point in procrastinating over it, when my mind is distracted by something else - probably to do with said 'guest', if he could be called that, staying in the second bedroom of the cottage. 

Pushing my chair back from the study desk, the half-typed manuscript placed in the typewriter waiting to be finished and the blank paper placed to one side, I head out my study to step out onto the top floor landing. 

"Writer's block with the manuscript?" A voice interrupts me, making me turn slightly to face to the source of the voice asking me the question

Seeing my 'guest, Captain John Hart, stepping out of the other bedroom wearing his fashionable crimson miltary, styled jacket - which is not from the 21st Century and more suited to his style - along with his weapons and other stuff. 

Seeing I'm eying the open bedroom door, he closes it behind him - even though I've caught a brief glimpse of the ruffled bedsheets on the bed, clothes scattered about on the bedroom floor and the scent of strong, sex pheromones lingering in the air. 

"You could say that." I reply to his question.

Internally noting 'From his appearance - the well-coiffed hair, a faint scent of shampoo coating his body covered up by a cologne and a slight limp in his step - this indicates last night he had a good time with the person he brought back' until realise he's right beside me, waiting for me to either move or head down the stairs.

Not wanting to hang around on the landing, I turn myself around to descend the stairs with him following close behind me.

Neither of us say much, though no doubt he's itching to ask questions or wants to tell me some important information. 

Reaching the first-floor hallway leading to the front door on my right and kitchen area towards the back, it's a sudden thunk - Dammit, I thought Cristopf had fixed that dodgy step - forcing me to turn slightly to catch him. 

Though I've underestimated the momentum of his combined weight and mine, along with how I've got a foot placed on the second last step to lean myself up to catch him. 

Causing for both of us to fall straight down onto the hallway wooden polished floor to land with a heavy, muffled combined thud. 

"Javin? Hart? Is everything alright? You're not hurt are you?"

Cristopf, I hear calling out to the both of us lying on the wooden, polished hallway floor from the kitchen area, with a muffled, pained groan of "Fuck, why didn't you say about the step. Goddess, this is embarassing that trip up on it again" coming from John. 

Shifting his body to lift himself up off me so I can either get up myself on my own or he can help me get up off the floor. 

Or would have, it hadn't been for him stiffening in a way he's discovered something, his head lifting up to look down at me - in particular where his face had been buried when he fell into my arms - with unexpected, shocked surprise. 

"Everything's fine, Cristopf. John, just tripped on the dodgy step, again." I reply back to him, realising the other man above me is looking downwards at my heaving chest. 

Realising the special binder, holding my breasts flat against my chest to give the illusion I'm male, must have slightly, loosened to reveal the mounds showing underneath my black shirt 

Exposing a secret about myself - the fact, I was 51st Century human who been born male, but had a female body instead and is hiding the fact from people. 

"Does he know?"  John queries, flicking his eyes up to Cristopf, standing by the kitchen doorway followed by back down to me. 

Cristopf must have sensed both of us need some breathing space, so heads back into the kitchen to finish off cooking the breakfast he'd been making, leaving me and John alone. 

My mind debates on what to say him, opening my mouth to speak only to find I really know what to say to him - What can I say? Tell him the truth? Both of us know I can't trust him - with him giving 'Hmm...' getting up off me, holding out his hand bearing the Vortex Manipulator to me.

Taking hold of his right hand, I allow him to haul myself up the wooden, polished hallway floor onto both of my feet leaving me to compose myself. 

"You realise both of you can't hide for long. Soon this very, sweet peaceful life you've built may become shattered, Javin Boeshane."

John states, the back of his knuckle stroking my right cheekbone lightly to soothe me when visibly flinch at his tone of his voice - it's callous of him.

He's right.....He's right. 

Both of us know it. 

It will happen, this sweet, peaceful life I built with Cristopf will be shattered at some point...

But when? 

Now?

A few weeks time?

In the future?

 When.....will...it happen?

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

Notes:

- Set before Season 1, Episode 2 Day One which will be worked into next chapter. - This chapter deals with more introducing Javin to Captain Jack and the Torchwood Team

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

PART 1 - 'An Ordinary Morning becomes Something Else'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage's Driveway- still Early Morning

"Did John say something to affect you, Javin?"

Cristopf asks, noticing how subdued I'm in not answering his question at first and refusing to look at him because I don't want to admit the truth.

"Just something which irritated me. Nothing to be worried about." I reply to him, unlocking the driver's side to enter the vehicle which use to get to work. Cristopf, wearing his faded jeans, leather jacket and simple, plain green t-shirt underneath steps close to me to place a hand on my waist and other tilt my chin upwards to look at him.

Looking at his gentle, sweet face and those eyes that have seen so many things – Universes forming and dying; life on planets never heard of and so many things that an ordinary human could only imagine – I find myself being pulled into a soothing, reassuring kiss.

Oh, how this reminds me so much of our first kiss we shared.

 I’ve missed this…. Missed his kisses and touch.

For a short time, I become lost in our kissing – lips softly moving against each-other’s and his hands moving to hold me closer to him like he’s afraid to let go of me in case I disappear from him. – until both of us pull back, one hand moving off my waist to stroke my cheekbone lightly with his thumb.

“I better…. umm….head off…” I state to him, breaking the tender moment between us, slipping into the driver’s seat and leaving him to close the driver’s door for me giving a look of ‘Will talk later about this.”

Stepping back to allow me to start the engine, where driving down the gravel driveway look at his reflection in the wingmirror getting smaller and smaller until turn to take the winding road out of the hidden valley to reach the M6.

Due to the trip to get Cardiff taking precisely 9hrs 39 minutes and distance is about 882km, I would have time to mull over stuff that been swirling it’s way around my head during my journey to the city.

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

Location – Mermaid Quay, Cardiff Bay – The Boeshane Bookshop – Mid-Morning

Javin Boeshane’s P.O.V:

Hanging up my leather black great-coat on the wooden coat-hanger, I begin to open my Bookshop called The Boeshane Bookshop by going around checking the light sconces are working – it was old Historic building so the electricity wires still held hints of the past – and the small kitchen behind the counter is well-stocked and finally, stepping out onto the Mermaid Quay overlooking Cardiff Bay to pull the shutters covering the windows up.

Outside people are going about their daily lives: school children heading to school; mothers pushing prams or walking with their child or children; teenagers talking amongst themselves, listening to music or on their phone texting or scrolling through social media.

Un-padlocking the first shutters, I go to push one of them up or would have if it weren’t for someone knocking over me with such impact, I fall onto the pavement seeing a person wearing a blue RAF great over-coat chasing something with another person following close behind them.

“Fuck, bloody idiot. A bit of warning…. next time…” I swear out, trying to haul myself up using the flowerboxes on the window for stabilisation only to cry out when one of my leg’s gives out on me drawing the attention of people passing and two other people.

“I apologise. He’s a bit of a handful.” The medical-type person of the two people helping me up from the pavement to back into my bookshop over to red leather high-backed chair to sit down. A heavy wince forms on my features, bones which have shattered beginning to quickly heal due to my immortal healing factor is kicking in.

“Handful? More like menace. You do know there’s law about running about like that.” I grit out, seeing the woman I’ve overheard being called ‘Gwen’ heading into the kitchen-area behind the bookshop counter to get a glass of water.

“Well, uhhh…..he’s in a hurry…” the medical-type man states, his eyes studiously avoiding looking at me and hiding what he nearly about to say in case his colleague overhears him. “Now, can I see your leg. I need to make sure nothing is broken…What!?....I’m a medically trained professional.”

He begins to protest at me, while tries to check my leg, when I place my hand on his to push it off not wanting him to discover it’s already healed – though albeit still sore.

“It’s fine. I have a partner who can look over it.” I state at him, using the armrests of the red leather high-backed chair to haul myself up seeing how he gets up as well – it seems he only comes up to my chin – with a glare on that harsh, yet vulnerable face – Something happened to him. He shows on his face a haunted look of someone who’s experienced loss of a loved one. – and arms crossing over his chest.

Going to the kitchen-area, the bell above the shop-bell indicates someone else coming in a reflection in an ornate mirror embedded into the wall shows they are an older man wearing a RAF blue or grey greatcoat with a younger man wearing a suit beside them.

“Owen, is everything alright? We lost sight of the Wee….ummm, Pickpocket.” He asks the medical-professional, correcting his sentence when gets an elbow in the ribs by the young man in the suit making ‘Owen’ grumble something under his breath.

“Stubborn patient refusing help you mean.” Owen – He reminds me of her so much, right down to the mannerisms and look – replies, not really answering the question asked by his ‘Boss-man’ who comes up him with the ex-policewoman Gwen, appearing at the doorway of the kitchen-area going to interject with something.

Hmm, interesting team ‘Blue/grey greatcoat’ has brought together. One, stubborn and medically trained and hints may have done the danse macabre; the female Gwen an ex-policewoman by her stature and presence and other looking like he’s some kind of archivist.

Blue/grey greatcoat must have noted I’m taking in his team’s appearance, because he steps in front of the young man in the suit to block him from my line of sight. Pursing my lips, I brush past Gwen to go into the kitchen-area taking the glass of water off her to bring up to my lips to take a sip – one taste telling me what’s been placed in it.

“Next time you try and drug me, use a better memory replacement sedative.” I tell her, seeing how she looks at me with her widened, panicked eyes at my words with myself moving to go over to the sink where go to pour what’s in the glass down the kitchen sink to get rid of the contaminated water.

A hand grabbing hold of my wrist holding it tightly, makes me stiffen at it. I decide not to turn my face to look at the ‘Boss-man’ keeping myself looking at the calendar where important events are dated hearing him commanding one of his teammates.

“Gwen, lock the front door.” Blue/grey greatcoat orders, his hand moving to my trouser pocket for the key it makes me slap it away first, using my other hand to slap him across the face or would of if it hadn’t for his name being called out.

“JACK, LOOK OUT!!?”

My whole body goes completely numb, forcing me to wrench free from ‘Jack’ allowing the glass of water I’ve been holding still to fall onto the polished kitchen-area floor with a tinkling smash I only distantly hear.

It’s not possible!!!? He cannot be!!!? He can’t be…..Jaketh-Javic Piotr Thane, my sibling!!!?

Memories flood into my head, overwhelming me so much it’s like a dam which holds back tonnes of water breaking apart to allow torrent of water to cascade down into the valley below, swamping everything in it’s destructive path.

“Hey, we’re not going to kill you. Listen to me, we’re not going kill you.” A voice breaks through the haze of rushing water, forcing me to lift my head up to look straight at the very concerned face of my sibling, Jack/Jaketh-Javic’s face.

His team-mates who have come into the kitchen area are looking at me with various signs of concern written on their face – one protective; another medically trained and one empathic by the way he’s trembling at the doorway – with Owen, checking my pulse.

I try to speak, but the rush of water within my head begins to get louder again it blocks out everything around me.

My body must be seizing uncontrollably because can distantly feel someone's hands wrapping around me to stop my body thrashing about until finally the distinct prick of a needle silences the water, allowing me to go limp in the arms of the person holding me.

Maybe for the better.

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

[carrotkicks]

so it seemed like the hero's did end up winning today (barely) but there's so much that needs to be resolved in the aftermath.

[festering-obsession]

How You Fell Into Their Trap

TW/CW: Self- Destructive Behavior, Hollywood-ized Disorders, Yandere/Dark Behavior, Violence, Dubious Consent, Drugging, Slight Divergence from Source, Canon-Typical Violence

A/N: Pacing could be weird in both stories. In both, the reader is pondering the past before it jumps to the present to help with any confusion before reading!!

Slenderman:

You want to tear your eyes out, pull at your skin, and scream until nothing left can be heard. It would be better than the constant paranoia eating at you. The splitting headaches and the dazed look on your face as you slowly forget what day it is.

No medicine, no drug can even make you lose an ounce of these random episodes. What's worse, it that they seem to drag on longer and occur more. You wipe the bile off the corner of your mouth as you lean next to the wall in front of the toilet.

The doctors even are puzzled. They best the can sum it up to is you’re faking it. Your body is faking it. Then why can't you stop any of it? In fact, you beg your body to stop.

You can't ignore the fact that you were a sickly child. Constantly falling under nearly the same symptoms but after your parents moved, it stopped. Occasional bouts here and there, but maybe the cleaner air farther from the city helped. Your parents agreed that you eventually just grew out of your sickness, hoping to move on and forget.

But you could never forget the same figure that haunted you since a child. The same tall, white figure, faceless, in a suit. He was everywhere. As soon as you looked, he was there for a split second. And you could feel his hostile aura waiting to strike and kill you. Even as an adult, that face haunted you.

You tried to pin point what triggered your episodes. Maybe after you went to the forrest with your friend, maybe a weird bug bit you? Or you contracted an infection somehow? The forest was beautiful. Tall trees, lush grasses, variety of flaura, and the mountains raised in the backdrop. All was suppose to go well, but going there was the worst mistake of your life. The previous delusions you seemed to have increased tenfolds and it seemed you threw you friend in the same fate as you.

The two of you wandered the forest after the wind rushed and seemed to grip the map from his hands. And even better? Not a lick of signal. When night time hit, you entered a real life nightmare. The figure that haunted you as a child came back. And scarier than ever. But this time, he also saw it.

Your friend gripped your hand as the two of you narrowly escaped the almost glitching creature. Appearing behind, then in front, and then in a damn tree. When you lost track of the figure, your friend was also losing track of himself. He heaved as he gripped at his hair before pulling at it. Above your own urge to do the same, you tried to grab his hands and stop him. Your friend looked at you as he began to claw at his eyes.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME." He roared as blood began to seep down him. "He told me, he told me that if I touch you, my death will be put in his hands." He sobbed out scooting away from you.

"He? Who's he?" You cried out, confused as you saw your friend trying to hurt himself.

"Him. The man. The one in the shadows. He told me that if I even look at you anymore, he'll rip my eyes out himself." He banged his head on the ground, still clawing at his eyes. "But he granted me the mercy to at least do it myself." Your friend reached for a jagged rock and brought it to his face.

Your head was filled with static to the point you passed out, and awake in your living room. You wanted it to be a dream, but it was farther from the truth. Your coworker and close friend, hung himself in the same place you two hiked at two days prior.

It was your fault, and you couldn't bring yourself to let it happen again as you hauled yourself in your apartment. Refusing contact with anyone. You were just meant to be a disease.

The apartment went on fire, and you never felt more estatic. Finally, you would greet death with open arms, and your family wouldn't live with the regret if you took your own life. Shit, maybe they could even sue to gain some money off your death. Maybe you'd actually bring fortune to someone.

You laid pliant on your bed, smoke filtering inside your room as the fire danced and spread around the room. A smile on your face before you felt its presence again.

The tall figure hovering over you this time, but no sickness accompanied with it. Faceless, except spots that were slightly sunken in that could be mistaken for one, put a finger up to his face presumably to its mouth. He then disappeared and you fell into unconsciousness with it as well.

And appeared back in the same fucking forrest. This time, surrounded by three human(ish) men.

A crazed man with goggles and a mask, wielding a bloodied axe. Next to him, was a seemingly timid one, dressed in an orange hoodie and when you tried to focus closer, all that greeted you was red, sullen eyes. A feminine mask graced the other one as he donned an orange bomber jacket.

Your mouth felt dry and when you tried to scream, it came out a pathetic groan for help. They clearly had no interest in doing so, more concerned on talking to one another in poorly hushed voices.

"You handled them too rough! If they get a bruise, he won't like it." One choked out in a worried tone.

"They're not a doll, they're fine. And besides, it's not like he told us to deliver them to him in 5-star hotel. He wanted them to be brought to the forest and we did. I'm sure he wouldn't be fond if we held on them too long, so to the floor they go." The one behind the mask spoke, steady voiced.

And another air of static rose around you, stiffening your surroundings. You fell in and out of consciousness and could barely even tell if time was moving, or not.

The men had left sometime ago, 3 hours or minutes? You didn't know. All you could feel was the mossy earth and crushed leaves beneath your slightly aching body.

Vision blurred as the man in the black and white dotted across behind your eye lids in mind as you slipped unconscious into a fever like dream. But this time, it didn't make you sick. It was replaced by a sense of, longing? What was once your nightmare incarnated, seemed softer (even for lack of facial features).

You felt as if watching yourself in third person, your figure collapsed on the floor of a velvety chapel, a heavy white [dress/tuxedo] weighing you down to the ground as you could hear a low melody playing in the background, a church hymn low in the distance as the pianist follows suit.

Pushing yourself up with your two arms, your mind follows the red path trailing to the center. You hear murmuring in the distance but as you scanned your surroundings, no one was there. Just the tall white figure dressed in the clean tuxedo.

You felt yourself gliding towards him, despite not even getting up on your feet. But when you looked down, you saw the inky black tendrils span out like tiny veins combining to makin thick ropey tentacles. They slowly brought you towards him as your hands slowly held onto the decaying flower bouquet.

You opened your mouth only to find no words were coming out. You gripped at your lips, trying to force something out to protest against whatever this was but the sweet piano was only heard echoing throughout.

Finally, you were brought to the empty pillar, but the entity's limbs never left your body. Instead, it seemed to latch onto your harder, as it expanded over your body. You gazed over the empty chapel, but the long and slender hands of the monster in front of you made you look at him.

Blank, faceless, pale, but you could feel the tension in the air as he stared at you in his own way. His stark white body contrasting deeply with his black tuxedo. You felt tears rush down your face but the monster seemed to enjoy that sight. As your face came close to his, the static in your head grew. The only word you could make out amiss all the noise was mine.

As your lips finally made contact with the blank slate of a man, you woke up in a large bed. As you glanced around, you found dust on the bed, but everything else looking surprisingly in pristine condition.

Just as you were about to scream, a large hand grasped your shoulder. The entity, that monster. But, instead of the normal vomit inducing headache and static you would feel when you confronted him was gone.

Yet, that [dress/tuxedo] from the dream still remained. As you looked down at your outfit in confusion, the monster slipped his hands under your chin to meet his gaze. The static-like voice replaced with a deep soothing, voice finally talked as his other hand made it up your back.

"Now that your officially mine, I can't find myself being able to hold back much longer."

Jeff The Killer:

Jeffery always seemed on the brink of becoming unhinged. Ever since building up to the, incident. His family moved to the neighborhood, normal enough. His parents, his brother, all seemed well. Even at first meetings Jeffery looked sane enough at first glance. Nothing stood about him. Like every other teenage boy. His light brown hair framed his face in the typical unkempt way with his blue eyes shining against his complexion. His clothes were obviously picked out by his mother since he never cared to actually shop for his wardrobe.

He was not your first choice to be friends with. But as your parents grew cozy with his, they near forced you to befriend the quiet boy.

It was awkward. Standing next to him at the bus stop with small talk eventually landed to you two sitting on the bus together. It grew to where he would spare you an earbud to play music on his music player. Then, it turned to you actually seeking him out during class projects, not because you had no one else to, but you began to somewhat enjoy his company.

You began to come to his house, and him to your house without the prompting of your parents. Maybe you were just as strange as him which explained the quicker connection between the two of you. It ranged from drawing, reading horror stories to eachother on the ever growing "internet", running to the near gas station for a snack stop only to get brain freezes from racing eachother who could drink their slushie faster.

His interests slowly grew darker. Darker videos, interests in the occult and local murders and death, and even visiting previous crime scenes. You didn't notice at first, you enjoyed the more taboo subjects, but he seemed to take it on a different level. But like you, he was just a young adult trying to figure out the big world, right...?

As his interests grew more morbid, a group of boys began to pick on him. His brother did what he could do to halt them as you tried to center Jeffery's attention elsewhere, but you knew it was beginning to wear him down.

He fought them. Not only did he fight one by himself, but three. He was scuffed up, but the other boys more so. You felt in a daze. Although it was self defense, he would be put in the blame. He came to your house soon after, but he wasn't in a panic. He was happy. Estatic. You fussed over his bruises and small cuts as you dabbed on first aid supplies. He couldn't stop talking for the death of him. You ignored most of it as he tended to talk lots of nonsense most the time, but a sentence stood out you couldn't ignore.

"I never felt more alive."

He looked at you. His blue eyes shining threw his choppy, layered hair. He gently held your wrist in the middle of applying an antibiotic cream.

"S/o, I want you to know, if anything happens, you're coming with me. I promise that." His once happy persona faded as he stared at you solemnly. You nodded slowly and continued patching him up.

When the police came, his brother Liu took his spot and told them it was him. You've never seen Jeffery so desperate to admit his own crimes but the police left, leaving the younger brother. It changed something in him. He only trusted Liu and you. But with him gone, he was clingy and.. handsy. Always trying to have you physically touching him in some way. Either him pressed up against your side or his hand wrapped around yours. His twisted mind finally grasping the concept of how easily people can be taken from him.

To no one's surprise, he did get in trouble more at school. His parents blaming him for getting into so much trouble in his senior year. To your surprise, not too long after that fight, his parents forced him to go to a party with them as a way to "clean" up their image. Like the loyal friend you were, you went with him.

It all happened too fast. His bullies were back as ready for vengeance all the same as if they didn't cause enough damage. One grabbed at you taunting him, "No big brother now, and no [girlfriend/boyfriend] to help you either!" One cackled as they drew a knife near your throat. He never had lost his composure so fast as he saw you. In his mind, you were his and that disgusting shit touched you.

Pure chaos erupted as two boys dropped dead. Blood on both men. Police were called but none came fast enough. Tears went down your face as you tried to grab one of them to stop but your parents held you back in horror watching them fight. Eventually Jeffery got the advantage and took time to prepare his next move in state of manic happiness. He didn't mind the bleach dripping down his frame. He had murder on his mind.

"Remember my promise. I will come to get you soon!" He looked back at you before he grabbed onto the knife and lodged it into the attackers chest. You felt dizzy with the scene in front of you, finally hearing sirens from the cops.

The final movement from the attacker lifted up a match and sent Jeffery on fucking fire. A blood curling scream from the crowd erupted before you felt sick to your stomach and passed out.

He was sent to the hospital, and as much as you were trying to visit him, only family was allowed. Countless nights you worried over the health of a boy you didn't even want to be friends with in the beginning. Too weak to talk to him one on one. All information you got on his wellbeing was from his parents who were already stressed enough.

When he was finally released from hospital and was being sent home, your parents allowed you to visit him the following morning.

As the sun rose and birds chirped, you sprinted to his house with the latest music DVDs and horror movies that he missed out on. You knocked on the door as you barely contained your glee for seeing him.

The door opened. It was unlocked. And the smell of metal wafted to your nostrils. You peaked your head and opened the already ajar door.

And you screamed as blood was splattered in every corner.

But, that was years ago. No longer the dumb teenager you were, but yet it was still stained on your mind. The countless headliners for the news, the police interviews, the therapy sessions. You moved far away from that neighborhood but no matter where you go, the memories would still follow.

Although a murderer now, still on the loose which scared you to your core, you yearned for the nostalgic Jeffery. The one before the murders.

You placed the book of photos down, gingerly touching the photo where you and Jeffery clicked slushies together. It was over now though, that was the past.

That night as you laid to rest, you felt the cold breeze of the nightly wind under your sheets.

You also felt cold wet drops on your face as a hand slapped against your mouth before you could fully register what was happening.

A manic grin spread from ear to ear, scared red against deathly pale skin. Eyes a dull blue with dark eyebags. The hair was jet black and frayed in a shaggy like mullet.

His other hand held your arms in one grip as he started laughing.

"Oh, s/o, I finally found you." He cried out in-between bursts of laughter.

"But where the fuck were you when I needed you. Where were you when I told you I'd come to get you."

And your heart dropped as you mumbled through his fingers. "Jeffery, is that you...?"

"The one and only and STOP AVOIDING THE QUESTION. WHERE WERE YOU?" He begged out, his happiness dropped. "It was suppose to be just me and you. Just us against the world. I needed you to wait for me. But when I finally got my own footing, you left!"

"I fucking missed you. But now, " He shifted eagerly as he straddled your hips. "I'm myself. This is what I was meant to be, and can you even accept that?"

You look at him in shock, your whole body feels like it was dropped in freezing water. Your heart was in the dilemma of whether it's about to stop or keep beating as wildly as possible.

"I don't expect you to respond now. But you will answer me later, you whore." He leaned down and took his hand off your mouth. "I hate that I still like you even after you abondoned me."

His lips hovered over yours teasingly. "I fucking hate the fact you're still as beautiful as the day you left me. But now, you're staying with me." Despite his taunting demeanor, there is an act of urgency, desperation, in his next moves.

His lips connected to yours within seconds as you tried to squirm away. His hands still holding yours away from pushing him. His hand gripped your cheek as he pushed the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

And then you felt a foreign pill slip into your mouth as Jeff still kept the kiss connected, forcing you to swallow.

"Go to sleep." He breathes out, finally pulling away from your lips. You are hit with an unfamiliar urge to go unconscious. Your limbs feel unbearably heavy as your eyelids begin to close again. The last thing you see before your eyes shut is his insanely stretched out smile and his lovesick eyes glaring at you.

….

[Heyyy I’m alive guys. Work and school kicked my ass but I’m still here.]

[galvanizedfriend]

Klaroline Fanfiction Masterlist

It's been a minute since I last updated my masterlist so I decided to go ahead and start a new one. Yokan // ▪ Multi-chapters

. The Wolf Series [I, II, III and Outtakes - Incomplete] When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined.

[The Originals rewriting where Caroline is a witch and gets pregnant with Klaus' child. Seasons 1, 2 and 3 complete, season 4 coming.]

. Vice and Virtue [6/6 - Complete] As the second son of a Duke, Klaus Mikaelson has the means and all the time in the world to indulge in every manner of wild activity with very little respect for the regiment of polite society. That is until his brother decides he's had enough of his vulgar ways and gives him an ultimatum. Caroline Forbes is a young debutante in search of true love and adventure. Except her aunt wishes for her to marry a somber Viscount who's already buried three wives. When their paths cross, they realize they might yet strike a deal that could satisfy their relatives and benefit them both.

[AH Regency!AU inspired by Bridgerton and a dozen other period novels I have been reading lately.]

. Pedulum [2/2 - Complete] This is what Klaus Mikaelson knows: death isn't the end for him. From the moment he is brought into the world to his final shuddering breath, Klaus' life is pretty much the same as everyone else's. The difference lies in what happens after he dies: he goes right back to the beginning, a child in London with the memory of dozens of lives lived before. Nothing ever really changes, including the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he can never save Caroline Forbes' life for too long.

[AH/soulmates!AU with a slight magical twist. Technically a one-shot, chapter 2 is just an alternate ending.]

. We'll Always Have New Orleans [3/15 - Incomplete] Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon-divergence!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

. Speed Dating [3/4 - Incomplete] Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve.

AH/AU fluff that was inspired by an episode of House (yes, it is fluff, I promise).

. Gasoline [2/2 - Complete] "He doesn't apologize, of course he doesn't. He doesn't care. He calls everyone love. It's not meant to mean anything. Except it did, once, and it makes Caroline's stomach churn away inside, as she feels Klaus crawling underneath her skin like he never left at all. I've still got you."

AH/Band!AU. Two years after Klaus walked out on his band - on her -, Caroline finds herself in her least favorite place on earth - New Orleans. She really did try to stay away from him, escaping an event just to keep off his radar. He finds her anyway.

. Like It's Christmas Again [2/2 - Complete] As Christmas approaches, Caroline Forbes, a New York-based event planner, is sent to a quaint small town in Virginia to organize their holiday festival. But her plans are momentarily hindered by the presence of Klaus Mikaelson, the Mayor's brother and a grumpy billionaire lacking in any holiday spirit, who's in town to close the sale of his family's manor - the charming estate she was hoping to use as a venue.

[AKA that time when I committed Christmas fic. AU/AH inspired by a Hallmark movie, I kid you not.]

. Spin [5/5 - Complete] Since she was seven years old, Caroline Forbes has been preparing herself to become President of the United States. But before she gets to the Oval Office, she needs to win the election for senior student president at the prestigious Saint Sebastian High - which would be in the bag if only goddamn Klaus Mikaelson hadn't decided to run against her.

[AH/AU lovers-to rivals-to-lovers The Politician!AU where everyone takes school elections way more seriously than they should.]

. How Far I'd Go [2/2 - Complete for now] Set in TVD S6/TO S2. Unable to control Caroline after she turns her humanity off, Stefan reaches out to the only person he can think of for help.

[Slices of moments of Klaus in Mystic Falls while Caroline has her humanity off.] ▪ One-shots

. The Sound of Settling Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Fluffity Fluff. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] . The Witch Queen Caroline always knew she was different. She was keyed into her own otherness very early on. Strange things happened around the Forbes women. Her mother never really had to spell it out to her, give it a name. Caroline could always sort of feel it, and then at some point the feeling blossomed into comprehension, and comprehension hardened into fact. And with that came an altogether different kind of certainty: this was not a secret she'd be able to keep forever. One day, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, everyone would find out. And when they did, they would come for her.

. Worst Things Have Happened Klaus Mikaelson is a prince with a very dark secret that threatens to destroy his family's legacy. Caroline Forbes is a sorceress whose job is to make sure his secret remains buried. But would it hurt him to put some clothes on? [Royal!AU, with a magical twist.] . The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart The whole incident was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared among friends, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see him ever and could just wipe him out of her life and memory for good. Given that they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

That is precisely why Caroline is livid when she emerges from the arrivals area at Richmond airport to find Douchebag, in the flesh - sunglasses indoors and all, like the proper jerk that he is - holding up a sign that readsClarisse.

[AH/AU. It's Tyler's wedding weekend and Caroline is back in Mystic Falls for the first time after the most traumatic and depressing year of her life. And it's about to get even worse as she's made to share breathing space with Klaus, The Worst Guy Ever. Except they might have to join forces to save the wedding, and to the discovery that things might not be what the seem. As Caroline teeters on the edge of a breakdown she'd been trying very hard to conceal, an unexpected savior appears to help her through the haze.]

. love, the monster's got me now [Canon compliant. Set in TVD S03E09 Homecoming.]

"Don't run," he says calmly, sounding almost bored, but with a clear warning. "I'm in the mood for a chase. Little spoiler: you can't outrun me." His eyebrows twitch up when he finally turns around to face her, lips curling into an amused grin. "Tyler's girl," he states, gesturing towards the now empty yard. "You missed out on the celebrations, I’m afraid."

[Or: the missing Klaroline scene between "There's your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline" and "There's a whole world out there waiting for you." Klaus and Caroline meet after Homecoming.]

. When It's Gone Suddenly, Caroline hates how nice the bed feels. How soft the pillows are. How smooth and cool and expensive those goddamn sheets are against her skin. She hates the giddiness in her belly, like she's a stupid schoolgirl when she's not allowed to be one anymore. She hates how right the space between Klaus' arms felt, how easily she molded against him. His lips were as full and as soft as they looked, but his hands were gentler and more reverent than they had any right to be, and Caroline hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. She hates that it suits her, hates that she wants it, hates that none of it is hers to keep.

[Set after TVD S04E19 Pictures of You. Caroline hears about Klaus' impending departure after a mysterious letter and decides to have some words.] . Wishing Each Sigh Might Be the Last The first time she sees him, Caroline thinks he's an angel.

[Set in 1800s New Orleans. As Caroline lies dying, she prays for God to send help or end her torment and save her soul. She thinks an angel has come for her. But he's no angel at all.] . Feel the Madness Closing In Set in TO S3. Caroline is in New Orleans when Lucien and the Ancestors make a move against the Mikaelson family - and they know exactly who to target in order to get to Klaus. Paranoia sets in, sending him to a very dark place, and Caroline finally learns the price of being loved so profoundly by a monster. . Issues When Klaus' Hollywood career takes a down turn after a nasty divorce and a viral mug shot, his manager decides his life is not yet miserable enough, bringing in a PR company famous for its high-profile damage control cases.

[AH!AU where Klaus is a problematic movie star and Caroline is a PR agent with no time for his BS.] . Urban Legend "I hate myself for saying this, but I have to agree with Little Miss Sunshine," Caroline cuts in. "This is Whitmore. Nothing ever happens here. Least of all a possession that leads to a massacre of slasher movie proportions."

"Thank you, love," Klaus returns brightly. "Very flattering to be validated by you."

"Bite me, Klaus."

"Find me later, after my shift, and we can see to it," comes the shameless rejoinder.

[Or: Caroline tries to navigate life in college having the worst roommate ever, a douchebag who cannot take a hint and a nosy journalist whom she's definitely not attracted to. Never in a million years.]

[astronautforhalloween]

Charon's Obol

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Gator Tillman x Reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You really didn't want to cover a shift at your new job. But when an old familiar face walks through the door, the night yields some unexpected results. Some more welcome than others.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Gator. Some hints to his misogyny, blood, canonical death. Not proofread, not written with the reader's gender specifically expressed but it is implied to be female (Gator refers to them as 'princess'). Gator does refer to reader as 'little bird', but it isn't a reference to height or body type. It's more so condescending.

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: 7.9k words. Might do a pt. 2? (If so, there will be some changes to Gator's character) The story takes place during the end of episode 2 but diverges at the end. Banner by @saradika

It had been a bit of a surprise when you watched him walk in through the taped up front door, glaring at Andy - someone whom you've learned to be a frequent regular - like the man had personally affronted him with his mere existence; his lip was curled in a sneer and there was a scoff waiting to be released from his chest while he stared the older customer down with an incredulous scowl. The same scowl that he's had since high school - looks like all that much hasn't changed. And you expected some sort of conflict, a quick shove to Andy's chest or a smart quip, though thankfully the interaction ended with Gator slipping past the regular. But not without roving a scathing glance across his body from head to toe as the man dipped out of the doorway. 

He didn't even notice you behind the counter as he immediately set off in the direction of the restrooms, and a part of you was relieved for it. Sure, when you had been making plans to move back down here to assist your mother, you had briefly entertained that Gator was still living in Lehigh, even though your old childhood town was about a seventy-eight-mile drive from where she was living now. Before the move she used to give you all the local gossip during your daily phone call, and Gator had been a frequent focal point in the scoop of the day, with his bad behavior and quick temper. It seems that being on the police force has done nothing to teach him manners. If anything, from what you've heard, it's only amplified his complete lack of boundaries. 

He had been passionate about football for a time, but then there had been that accident in mid-August back in senior year which left him favoring his right leg with a slight limp. From what you had heard through the grape vine way back when, he had also wanted to be a sheriff. To follow in his father's footsteps and protect Stark County like the previous men of his heritage had. 

And if the big, white bold letters printed on his vest was any indication, it looked like he was working his way up to doing just that. 

You had been taking shifts here at the gas station for about a week now. Had moved boxes packed full of your belongings from a U-Haul and into your room inside of your mother's new trailer home a week before that. But for some reason seeing him again seemed to solidify that you were actually back here in North Dakota after you had worked so hard to get out. It was like being shoved into a time machine and forced to a point in your life that you didn't want to return to. There isn't necessarily wrong with this state or the people who live here. It's just quiet, tight-knit, and everyone knows everyone. Secrets are difficult to keep here and evading bored, curious eyes can be difficult, if not impossible at times. 

There wasn't anything here for someone your age, who had dreams and longed for something more than church potlucks and being barefoot and pregnant. 

But now here you were. Reaching for the broom propped in the corner to sweep up a cluster of glass shards peeking out from underneath the bottom of the counter into a small pile. They seemed to be everywhere, no matter how hard you scanned the floor while you cleaned, more and more glass just seemed to pop up as soon as you thought you had gotten it all. You had even found a piece in the cash register when you were counting out a customer's change, and you nearly sliced your thumb on the damned thing. How it had it had managed to find its way in the till, you aren't sure. Though as frustrating as those little slivers are, you actually find yourself being thankful for them. It gives you an excuse to at least look busy instead of just awkwardly standing around, uncomfortably hyperaware that Gator Tillman is in the store. 

You aren't even sure why you're so nervous about the thing. Yes, you and Gator had never been particularly close, and the interactions that you had were few and far between, mostly due to forced proximity because of your position on the cheer squad. But apart from the after-school activity that both of you participated in, you mostly had your own circles that you kept to, the two of them hardly ever merging. Based off of what you'd seen of him back then, he wasn't all that impressive. He was abrasive and cocky. A bully, to put it lightly, that liked to slam other kids against locker doors as he passed. 

You didn't think much of him then. Just a guy who like to flaunt underneath his father's shadow and abuse the privileges of being the sheriff's son to taunt others. And you don't think much of him now, so you aren't sure why your gut is sinking like a nervous pit. 

It isn't odd that he's here. Sure, the gas station is a short drive outside of Beulah which happens to be about an hour's drive from Lehigh. You suppose that it isn't completely wild to see him outside of his county, but for some reason it still catches you off guard, even if it was just a matter of time before you crossed paths. Whether that had been while you were out having dinner at one of the local restaurants or him walking in on one of your shifts. Though the kicker is, is that this isn't technically your shift. It was meant for Derreck, but he was unable to show up because he's no longer one of the living. You don't want to speak ill of the dead, especially one so recently passed, but you can't exactly say that you're all that surprised. Even with just your short interactions to base off of, he didn't seem exactly like he was the sharpest. 

And when Miles called you just the night before, fretful over the state that the gas station was left in after a particularly horrendous break-in, explaining that Derreck was gone, that he had tried to scare an armed perpetrator with an airhorn of all things and got a chest full of bullets in response, you were horrified and regretful but not exactly shocked. 

He had also mentioned something about an attempted kidnapping in between his worried rambling before he zigzagged back to the point of the call, which was trying to cover some of Derreck's shifts that had been left vacant due to his murder. Apparently, no one else was willing or able to cover them and that had left you as his last resort. You nearly said no. You weren't usually one to work the graveyard shift. You liked the peace that came with it, but your mother, despite her wanning health found old habits hard to break and was typically an early riser. Doing chores as early as 7 am; vacuuming and doing laundry or poking around in the garden behind the house. Which is roughly around the time that the nightshift ends. You knew that it would make falling asleep a task with how thin the walls are, but you couldn't find it in yourself to say no. Not even with your own fears of being shot while standing behind the register gripping you like a chill. And not with money so tight.  

You could just picture him in your head, pacing around in his office underneath the oily glow of his desk lamp and you could hear that click-click of his teeth gnawing on his nails through the other end of the call. An anxious tick of his. And then there was the medical bills and the torn open envelopes declaring that bills were past due splayed out over the kitchen table. You had just been able to put some good money aside for those but there was still an intimidating amount that was owed and every bit of cash counts. Even with the pressures of debt and financial insecurity hanging down over you with an unbearable pressure, you hadn't been exactly psyched about accepting a solo nightshift at a recently burglarized (and that's putting it lightly) gas station. But you couldn't refuse. You hadn't told your mother about the tragedy that had taken place here. She never would have allowed you to leave the house for work this evening if she had.  But it's just a matter of time before all the gossip finally reaches her ears; nothing ever remains a secret or quiet for long in small, sleepy towns. But fortunately, by the time she becomes to date the crime, you'll already be on your way home to take a shower and fall asleep in your bed. 

The sound of one of the freezer doors slamming shut has you pausing to look up from the pile of glass and dirt on the linoleum and over to the back of the shared chip and candy aisle where Gator now shuffles around. You can just hardly make him out from behind the other shelves full of microwavable mac and cheese and Campbell's soup, but he appears to be idly scanning the rack of junk food with a bottle of pop in his good hand. The other, you've just noticed, seems to be fixed inside a cast and blue gauze bandaging. You wonder how he managed to get that injury. 

Your curious little inspection doesn't stop there. You let your eyes sweep over him from his cap to his knees (which is about as far as you can see of him from the angle), and on their way down you take notice of the holster secured to his thigh. And for whatever reason your focus seems to settle there and just stay for a good breath or two. It looks good, those black straps wrapped and pulled tight around his thigh.  In fact, he wears the entire uniform in way that you shouldn't find appealing. The weight of his vest seems to pronounce the slimness of his waist and the fatigues that mold around his hips are doing him nothing but favors. It's almost stupid. It's jarring. You have to tighten your grip on the broom handle, forcing yourself to look away to pin your gaze down on one of those solar powered bobble heads placed between the register and a mini shelf stocked full of Bic cigarette lighters. 

But it's facing the wrong way. Instead, it's turned towards you. It's supposed to be cheery. A Christmas themed orange cat peeking out of a stocking with its head still steadily wobbling despite the fact that it's been sundown for more than a few hours now. Its cartoon smile feels judgmental. Like its criticizing your shameful ogling. 

Seriously, since when have you ever checked out Gator Tillman? 

Sure, a part of you had found him cute in the past. A surface level sort of attraction, with his pretty, round brown eyes. But it was never really enough to compensate for how crude he was. All packed full of harsh comments, inflamed bravado and plastic charisma; always searching for an excuse to fight. If anything, it garnered nothing pity from you. An awful aching sorrow. Especially whenever you could see something soft peeking out from underneath that boastful, sarcastic exterior of his. The potential to be kind. Sweet even, if it had been nurtured enough in him. But Roy Tillman was anything but nurturing. 

The entire town had known how harsh the Tillman patriarch was on Gator, even though they all kept their mouths shut tight, in fear that he might raise his hand down against them instead. All of the split lips, black eyes and pulled muscles that were all conveniently filed away as mishaps caused by a wayward cow during a roundup on branding season. 

Of course, your only excuse for not outright speaking out had been that you were hardly more than a child, busy saving up for your first car and writing out college admission essays. And the harsh, whispered warnings of your mother telling you to keep your nose out of things that aren't your business never helped. Not that you have ever been particularly well at heeding her advice. You had tried once, to reach out to him and let him know that he wasn't alone, one evening near the bleachers before graduation. Maybe you should have kept to yourself like everyone else had warned you to. To not get involved. But it was hard when Gator showed up to school one day with his right cheek swollen red and purple, the molted shades of plum and a nasty vermillion dotting up around the corner of his eye like a crescent.  Seeing Gator banged up with a new cut or scrape wasn't a new development by any means. But all the excuses were getting old; wore you down even though they shouldn't have impacted you personally. 

His cover for the swollen cheek was that he had gotten it during practice the evening before. But that was bullshit. He hadn't left the field swearing like he usually did whenever he got hurt during training. When Gator got hurt it was something that everyone would become uncomfortably aware of; usually by a string of loudly exclaimed expletives that could be heard reaching across the expanse of the field.  There had been none of that. He didn't leave campus with an icepack clutched against his cheek the day before. He got that bruise when he went home that night. And you would have put good money on it that the one that did the damage was his father. 

And despite all the warnings you told yourself that you would speak to him about it. That you'd try to at least. Your friends must have noticed the moment you decided to go and talk to Gator. Maybe they'd seen the glint of it in your eyes. And they had all told you not to. That it wasn't your place. That you'd best stay out of it. But you couldn't listen. 

It took you the entire school day to build up the courage to approach him. To calm your nerves. You remember vividly how awkward the air around you had felt when you asked him to meet you behind the bleachers. It didn't escape you how flirtatious the invitation could have been construed as and you're sure that he was expecting some sort of sloppy make out underneath the grandstands and not an intervention. You're sure you had completely blindsided him when you had opened up the conversation with words of sympathy and not some flirty spiel. You had tried to be delicate about the whole thing. After all, for the most part the both of you were hardly more than acquaintances. You did your best to be gentle when you had offered to be someone that he could talk to if he ever felt like he didn't have anyone at home to confide in. But he had turned you down then with clear irritation in his eyes when he told you that he didn't need your help. That he didn't want it, and that was that. 

Your eyes flicker back up to him from the bobbing fake cat, and he's moving down the aisle now, still browsing but apparently uninterested in the available chips and assorted junk foods. But he does reach for a bag of jerky from the cardboard display on the end of one of the shelves and his eyebrows perk up when he inspects the packaging, and he nods his head to himself like he's intrigued or pleased with what he's seeing.  

You wonder if he'll even recognize you at all after all of the years. You suppose that it wouldn't be all that bad or unexpected if he didn't. It has been a while. The last time you've crossed paths since now had been a little after graduation, before you scrounged all of the money that you had saved by serving at Patty's Diner over the summer together and piled all of your stuff into your shitbox of a car and set off for the state line. 

You finally allow yourself to let go of the broom, reluctant to release your little lifeline in preparation to scan his items, propping it against the wall behind you. But what you hadn't expected for him to do was to quite literally toss his bag of beef jerky at the counter. The throw seemed lazy, but regardless of that, the jerky almost goes flying off the countertop entirely and rushes towards the edge. You have to scramble to catch it, mostly out of reflex, grabbing at the packaging with clumsy hands before it could land on the pale, dirty tiles and next your feet. 

Even with unease prickling at the nape of your neck you can't curb the displeased scowl from making an appearance. And the look that you pin him with is entirely unimpressed. He, on the other hand, doesn't look apologetic in the slightest. In fact, there's a smile curling at the edges of his mouth and his eyes are sparkling underneath the fluorescents with unrestrained mirth. "Oh, sorry there, " he says with the hint of a laugh on his words. "I forget my strength sometimes, ya know."   

You should have let it fall. 

You don't bother entertaining his joke. You just flip the package of Jack Links over so that you can scan the bar code while he sets his drink down on the counter. You've interacted for less than five seconds and you're already remembering why you didn't care for him all that much in high school. But luckily for you, he hasn't seemed to recognize you and all you have to do is cash him out and he'll be on his merry little way. 

You can smell his cologne once he's up against the counter. It's woody, a sort of musk and there's hints of something warm with a few notes of vanilla. It seems he's graduated from layering his body with Axe body spray, thank God for small favors. He used to wear that cologne like it was a repellant. "You can smell him before you see him," your mother had noted once, after he had walked past the both of you one afternoon during a communal chili festival. And she hadn't been wrong. But now you can also pick up something artificial and sweet coming from him too. Like berries or some other kind of fruit. Watermelon, maybe? 

"Eight dollars and thirty-eight cents." You supply after ringing in his bottle of pop, leaning your weight on your hands. And thankfully, he already has his wallet out and is thumbing through the bills, but his attention keeps jumping from between his cash and back up to you like he's trying to piece something together. And you're hoping that he isn't trying to place you. That the memories are too vague, that he didn't care enough to remember you. That this interaction won't have to be any longer than necessarily. 

His eyes brows are pinched, and he almost looks studious when he hands you a ten. "Do I know you from somewhere?" 

"I don't think so, " you respond quickly, punching the given amount into the register and counting out his change as soon as the till pops open. 

But he doesn't seem to be deterred. He even shakes his head just a bit, unconvinced and squints at you like it might help him take in your features better. "Nah, I know ya from somewhere." 

"I'm not so sure, " you say and hold your hand out, offering his money, but he doesn't take it and just continues to stare at you silently. It's awkward. Tense for no reason. Suddenly, the music playing over the speakers is too loud. Some old country song with warbling vocals and a gentle guitar but it does nothing to ease the weird energy that's dipped over the room. You can hear the fluorescents too. Buzzing above you in a steady, pulsing thrum. 

"I'm sure. " He replies, voice low with concentration and his eyes dance over your face. The shape of your chin, tracing the curve of your lips, roving over the swell of your cheeks before settling on your own gaze. You can see the exact moment that he recognizes you. Something seems to spark in his stare. The elation that comes with recalling something that's been on the forefront of your mind but eludes you at every turn, and he exclaims your name with a sort of surprise and maybe even wonder. "I never forget a face! C'mon, don't tell me you don't recognize me." 

He settles down against the counter, crossing his arms to lean his weight against its surface like moving in closer might help you recall him better, toeing the line of almost closing in too close to your personal space. You briefly entertain the idea of continuing on with your ruse. Of playing dumb, even if it's just to frustrate him. But really, you'd rather this little impromptu meeting only be as long as it has to be, and you find yourself nodding. Feigning a sort of awe, pretending to a put a name to a long-buried memory. 

 "Oh, yeah. " You nearly gasp in faux surprise. "Gator! Gator Tillman."

He smiles in a pleased way, rapping his knuckles against the counter. "What the hell are you doin' here? I heard you ran off to uh . . . which was it?" He snaps his fingers together like it'll help him recall the information better, or tries to, but his fingertips sort of just slip against each other uselessly from around the obstruction of the cast. " Arkansas?"  

"Arizona, " you correct. And you give up, placing his change on the counter in front of him for him to pick up whenever he decides to take it. 

'That's the one. " He agrees. "So, what brings you back? Got tired of all the dirt and heat, huh?" 

"Uh, no, I'm just here to help my mom." You say and reach for a stack of sticky notes to absentmindedly flick through. "Do you need a bag?" 

"Oh, yeah, how is she doin'?" He asks, completely ignoring or unhearing your question. You'll take that as a no then. "I haven't seen her in a bit. Not since she moved." 

"She's . . . doing okay." You shrug, glancing off in a random direction, hopeful that training your focus on something else other than him might make you feel less exposed. Less examined. It doesn't. "Could be better, could be worse." 

He hums in agreement and for a moment falls silent. And you think that maybe the conversation has fallen out. Run its course and he's grown bored past the temporary marvel of reconnecting with a familiar face from the past. But that'd be too easy. "It's been about, what? Nine years, give or take since we've last seen each other." 

Dammit. 

"Yeah, that sounds about right." It's a simple response. And you let it settle at that, just wishing that he'll take the hint and leave. He has to be somewhere to be, right? Patrolling or whatever. He's probably on his way back to his county, surely, he doesn't plan on standing here all night, chatting you up. But to be fair, he's never been particularly adept at reading basic social cues. 

"To be honest, I'm surprised they got you workin' this shift. " He nods his head towards the front doors; covered up with cardboard and a plastic sheet as a temporary means to keep it sealed until it could get properly repaired. "Ya know, with the break-in an' all." 

"Yeah, well no one else volunteered, so I agreed to come in." 

"A little bird like yourself, here all alone." He says it casually. Probably doesn't really mean anything behind it, but knowing Gator, maybe he does. But regardless of his intent, the comment does make you bristle. The sentiment wasn't necessarily harmful. Feeling worried for someone being on their own to work a shift at a business in the middle of nowhere is normal. Understandable. Especially considering that the said business had just been the scene of gruesome crime, but the air with how it was said rubbed you the wrong way. Granted he's never been one to have tact.

It seems that he really hasn't changed all that much since you've left. Except for maybe growing an inch or so taller, but that could be due to the boots. And the planes of his face have slimmed a bit more, having officially lost what little bit of baby fat was clinging to his cheeks. Still, that condescending air that he used to carry himself with has seemed to survive his younger years, not like you were expecting it not to. 

"You must be pretty scared being here all on your own. "  He wasn't wrong, per se. There was something intimidating about being here with the horror of what had taken place still fresh in the back of your mind. You hadn't seen the aftermath and all of the smeared blood and shattered glass; you hadn't been here with Miles to meet the cleanup crew. In a twisted sort of way, it almost seems worse that you didn't walk in on this place when it was still stained with viscera and signs of struggle. Seeing the store all taped up with shotty repairs to try and regain normalcy left too much to the imagination. Everywhere you looked your brain tried to fill in the pieces. You couldn't bear to clean up the restroom. Not without thinking about how a man had died in there. Slipped and split his head open on the toilet. There was still a sense of paranoia that latched its claws down your back and has yet to let go. It even has you looking at some of your customers funny - even the regulars, the people who you talk to almost daily. It was even worse when you reminded yourself that Derreck had died in the very spot where you're currently standing. 

"No, not really. " You lie easily. 

Gator laughs. Almost scoffs, really. Dipping his head low and for a moment the brim of his baseball hat blocks half of his face from your view before he tips his head back up to look at you. He rocks back on the heels of his shoes. "Well, I just gotta say, it doesn't sit right with me." 

What? 

 He's worried? Why would he even care? 

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

He doesn't seem to be persuaded or assured, and he sits up from his leaned over position, straightening to his full height. He doesn't break eye contact once, and for some reason you feel like you couldn't look away from him, even if you gave it some real effort. The dark brown of his eyes is a rich shade, even from underneath the blunt glow of the fluorescents, and you swear you can see delicate flecks of a honeyed amber. 

" That may be, but I'm not a man to take chances." And he reaches into one of his front pockets to retrieve a lime green vape for him to lift to his lips. When he nonchalantly exhales the smoke in the middle of the store, the scent of something syrupy and sweet reaches your nose. That explains that bit of watermelon that you had smelt on him earlier. "I mean, anyone could be a threat. Even that fella that was just in here." 

Your eyebrows raise at the comment and for a moment you just stare at him while you wrack your brain. "Do you mean, Andy?" You ask, thinking back on the outright rude way that Gator had glared at the regular. "No, he's fine. Possibly in need of an AA meeting, but he's always nice. Sometimes he brings his girls in for a drink . . . a fountain drink. Not . . . alcohol. " 

"Those are the ones you gotta watch out for the most." He presses, taking one more drag from his vape before stuffing back into his front pocket. "It's always the one's ya know." 

You aren't sure how to respond to this. How to reciprocate the conversation now that this is the direction that it's taken. You aren't sure where this apparent desire to keep you safe has come from. It's certainly something that you've never experienced before. Or fully witnessed. Even the protectiveness that he had shown his teammates back in high school seemed to come from a place of ego. It always came off that he had some sort of point to prove; that he could take a hit or get even if need be. That he saw his friends as an extension of himself, and by taunting or harming one of them was as good as personally offending him. And he couldn't stand for that. But you'd like to believe that it came from somewhere genuine at least. 

"You should take my number. " 

He says it so casually that it throws you off more than the previous statement did, except this time your outright gawking at him. There's only one reason why Gator Tillman would want your number, but you can't for the life of you figure out why he would be trying to flirt with you. You aren't even sure how to feel about the situation. You never would have assumed that he, of all people would have an interest in you. Yes, in the past you had caught him giving you intrigued glances when he thought you weren't paying attention. Especially whenever you had been in your cheerleading uniform, but you had never put much stock in it; usually equating his wandering eyes on him just being an obnoxious teenage boy. "Is this your way of asking me out?" 

He shrugs lightly at that and raises a hand to grip onto the shoulder of his tactical vest. "I just want to make sure you have someone to call in case anyone gives you a hard time, that's all." 

Sure, bud. That might be one of the lamest excuses you've heard in a while. And that's saying a lot considering the last time a man tried to flirt with you he had unironically used one of the worst pickup lines you may have ever heard, something along the lines of; "kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?" And Gator's apparent inability to upfront about his intentions makes you want to mess with him a bit. 

"Wait . . . don't I already have your number?" 

He looks confused, face twisting up dumbly and the pinched, clueless furrow between his brows is almost adorable. You can see his fingers already twitching, reaching for the vape stashed in his pocket out of habit. Like the nicotine might help him think better and you can see the gears in his mind turning, but you can tell that he's coming up empty. 

You tilt your head, propping your chin up in the cradle of your hand. "It's 911, right?" 

The realization that you're playing with him finally clicks into place, and he glances away from you with a small scoff. His clear frustration just amuses you further and he takes notice of your obvious enjoyment if the way that his frown deepens is anything to go by. 

"Besides, aren't I a little out of your jurisdiction?" You ask and start to fiddle around with the bottle of unattended Mtn Dew, rotating the carbonated drink around within the cradle of your palm with the push of your fingertips. 

"Jurisdiction, " he echos the word with a sort of repulsion, before he fixes you with an oddly intense look that feels like its burrowing into you. "I am the law; I do whatever the fuck I want." 

Like most things during this little conversation of yours, you aren't entirely sure how take that remark. The passion and utter belief that he said it with was more than a little concerning. The way that he truly seemed to think that he was above the laws that he was meant to enforce. It was a dangerous mindset to have. Especially in his profession, with all the power that he held as an officer, even while he was within the confines of such a small county. Well, not small in terms of size or milage, but it's not like he's a cop in some big city. But who knows, maybe that just makes him even more dangerous. Everything about him was the clear-cut definition of a walking red flag, so you don't even understand why you're sitting here entertaining his bullshit.

At least you're getting paid for it. 

"What do you really want with my number, Gator?" You know why, of course, as odd and confusing as it all is, but you want to hear it from him. 

And just as you expected, he falls silent. Having some sort of internal debate and struggle. And you wait for him to get annoyed and leave, throwing some sort of scathing remark over his shoulder as he goes, but he doesn't do that. Something in the way he holds himself relaxes, and it seems like some half-assed way to come off as unaffected. Probably a way for him to psyche himself out mentally and project self-assuredness. He steps closer to the counter until his hips are brushing against the edge and there's an impish kind of gleam in his eyes. Something about the dynamic seems to shift; you can feel it move and click into place and it makes you feel untethered. Like you're walking on rocky, unexplored terrain. And you aren't sure if you like it. 

"Surely you know, " he says with the hint of playful but if not cocky smile on his lips. And now it's your turn to look up at him in confusion. "I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I've always harbored a bit of a crush for ya." 

Well, that's something that you wouldn't have guessed. You never would have successfully gathered that on your own, that's for certain. And it threw you off even more, considering that for the last leg of senior year, he was a part of an on-again-off-again relationship with Rebecca Mallory. Granted their relationship had always seemed to be in a constant state of a crisis with the way that they had always butted heads. Mostly because Rebecca was a rigid, set-in-her-ways Christian who was often displeased with Gator's penchant for violence and swearing. Not that she was necessarily wrong for her frustrations. Even with his own father being a preacher with an iron fist, Gator never been the most forgiving or restrained person and you figured that being around him for more than an hour would probably be quick to grate on your nerves, too. 

"I, uh, no, I didn't know that." You manage, unsure how to navigate this newfound revelation. In all honesty, you had figured that his previous request for your number had just been an attempt to ease his boredom. A way to enjoy the excitement of meeting up with an old acquaintance - and knowing him - assuming that he might get lucky in the process. 

"It always bugged me that I never grew the balls to make a move in the past." He confesses, and he leans over the counter again. And with the way that you're also propped up on your elbows it leaves only a few inches separating the two of you. You swear you could feel the heat radiating off of his body brushing against your own skin. The sudden proximity seems to vacuum all of the air out of the room, and your mind scrambles to catch up. He can see the way that you're floundering underneath his stare. You can see the amusement twinkling in the dark brown of his eyes from underneath the bright, pale splash of the long florescent bulbs. "And then you went and moved out after graduation. Up in a hurry to leave this little shithole - not that I blame ya, mind you; but it always left me wondering how you would have responded if I had asked you out on a date." 

The quiet that follows is stifling. For a moment it's just the both of you alone, in a grimy busted up gas station in the middle of nowhere with an upbeat Beach Boys song playing over the sound system. It feels laughably too energetic for the still but charged atmosphere that surrounds you and stalls your lungs. That keeps your focus pinned to his with the pleasant musk of his cologne wafting over you; sweetened by the sugary notes of vape smoke. 

"I think I would have said no, " you say truthfully. You can see the way his shoulders go slack. The movement is so minute that you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so close to him. His head tilts back like he means to pull away and for some reason your stomach flips with disappointment at the thought, but you don't bother trying to unpack that feeling right now. "But . . . " 

He pauses, attention zeroing in on you and you swear you might actually see something akin to hope somewhere in his expression. "But, what?" He asks when you don't immediately respond. 

"Convince me." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You heard me." 

He stares at you like he doesn't know what to think. His mouth is hanging open just a bit and he laughs, though it comes out as more as a disbelieving puff of air. And you can see him going through the motions of it in his head, like he's trying to solve something. But he seems to come to some sort of conclusion. His shoulders square up like he's accepting it as a sort of challenge. " Alright, " he agrees, and settles back against the counter. "I'll treat ya real good; take you out the dinner. You ever been to Twister's?" 

"No, " you answer, and the look he gives you is pitying, but one that's lively and not mean-spirited. It throws you for a loop to see him so carefree and relaxed. Typically, the jokes that come from him are underhanded barbs, meant to make someone uncomfortable or angry rather than a means to actually get a laugh. But you like it. It's as pleasant as it is unexpected and all of that initial unease and irritation that you had previously felt towards his presence begins to thaw. 

"The best food in North Dakota." He praises and you hum in interest and nod, quietly ushering him to continue, even though the gesture is a little condescending it's also playful. 

"One of the guys at the station said they got a new drive-thru theater over in Bismarck. They show old classics mostly- shitty B movies and low budget horror flicks, but I think they're plann' on playin' one of those old stop motion films; Nightmare Before Christmas, I think. For Halloween, probably."  

Admittedly, it doesn't sound like a bad date. And as cliche as the idea of a theater may have been, it has your interest piqued. Especially the drive-thru part. It's been on your bucket list for a while now, and the prospect of going is more than a little enticing. Especially with how stagnant and stressful life has been as of late. It would be nice to go out again and get away from the monotony of life at home and work. And truthfully, a part of you is a little intrigued to get to know Gator again after all the time away. To see if maybe he has changed and matured a bit as a person. But you also don't want to give in too soon. Admittedly, you do like to string him along, as wrong as it may be. 

"Then afterwards, we could maybe go ice skating, " he offers. "It's been a few years since I've worn a pair of skates, so I might be a little rusty. But I figure it's gotta be like riding a bike." 

"Sounds tempting, " you say with a smile that you couldn't help. "And after that?" 

It takes him a second, but he quickly seems to catch on to what you're implying. His gaze seems to darken, that honeyed brown turning russet and warm. He tips in closer to you; you nearly feel the bill of his cap brush against your forehead. "Well, that depends on you, princess. " 

You don't say anything, letting him stew in the potential of rejection. And you reach over to your left, plucking a Sharpie from an old, chipped mug that's used to store miscellaneous pens and highlighters; there was even an old cherry flavored lollipop that's been in there since you've started working here, and you've got the feeling that it's probably been in there for more than a few years.  He tracts the movement with open curiosity but raises his focus to you when you reach for his injured arm with your free hand, though he doesn't fight or question you when you pull it over across the counter towards your chest, careful not to accidentally put any strain on it. 

And when you pop the cap off with your thumb and raise the point of the marker to his cast it suddenly feels like you're being put under a microscope again. You can feel his attention searing into with an intensity that should be uncomfortable. But you find that you don't completely mind it. Not even with that bobble headed plastic cat awkwardly bouncing in the corner while you write out your phone number on the inside of his wrist. 

"I'm free on Saturday. " You say, capping the marker and plopping it back inside the mug. 

He's outright smiling now. It's a little smug, pleased, but there's also something content about it. "Sounds like a plan, " he replies, and reaches for his jerky and drink, stepping away from the counter without turning away from you. Walking backwards towards the exit. "How's five o'clock sound?" 

"Works for me." You return his smile, unable to fight it off. And there's a sappy, fuzzy feeling inside of your chest that's going to mean nothing but trouble for you in the future. 

"I guess I'll see ya then." He's nudging the door open with his back and pauses almost like he's reluctant to leave but then he's slipping out the door with a quick, "g'night!" tossed over his shoulder. You barely get to return your own before the door swings shut behind him, blocking you from seeing him with the cardboard plastered over in place of glass. And now that he's left, the store feels all too quiet with only the old, tired speakers to keep you company and the ragged hum of the wall freezers in the back of the store. 

You glance around the room boredly, stepping back from the counter while you mentally go down the to-do list. Finding that you've already done most of your tasks. The delivery truck wasn't due for a few more days, and you finished up all of the necessary stocking a few hours ago. And you've already squeegeed the remaining windows clean and organized the shelves. But you hadn't cleaned the restroom yet. 

You suck in a ragged breath. You were less than enthused to clean the toilet on a regular day, but now that it had been the scene of a crime and a literal death you were more than unhappy with prospect. But unfortunately, it was a part of the job description. And it's an absentminded glance downward that you notice the change that Gator had left discarded on the counter. A crumpled dollar and some change. Just a measly dollar and thirty-two cents. He probably forgot about it, and even if he hadn't it was such a small amount that it wouldn't be missed. But you figured that there isn't any harm and giving it back to him. If you go now, he might still be parked outside. 

And that was enough for you to scoop up the change in your palm and run around the length of the front desk, crossing the expanse of the floor quickly and shoving the door open to cross outside. The cold night air that rushes across your skin surprises you for a moment after spending the last few hours underneath the heat of the store, but it doesn't deter you. And a quick glance to the passenger side lets you know that the cab of police cruiser is empty, and you stare at it dumbly for a second before you notice Gator standing off to the left, near the rear end of the truck. 

And you don't even notice the fact that his gun is drawn, that his body is pulled taut; clearly on edge while he stares down at the ground with wide eyes. 

"Hey, Gator!" You call, stepping forward with a smile on your face. His head snaps up when he hears you, and there's a wild sort of glint in his eyes that jerks something deep in your chest, jostles free a heavy, chilling sort of concern and worry. 

"No, no - don't come over here!" He shouts with a horrific sense of panic that you feel in your bones. But it's already too late. You've come too close, and when you walk past the rear end of the truck to step towards him you notice some strange lump lying on the ground from out of your peripheral vision. And in a kneejerk reaction it seizes your attention, pulls your focus to it like it's being tugged by a string. It's the blood you notice first. Pooled across the dirt and glittering a rich red from oily shine of lights on the ceiling of the gas pump canopy. It's pouring from a slice in the body's neck. But what's more is a piece of cardboard pinned to his chest, notched in place by a thick hunting knife. Your mind sort of just goes quiet. Unable to grapple with what it's actually seeing even while you can't look away. 

You can smell the blood. It's a thick, nauseating scent, like sucking on pennies and rust and you want to gag. You want to vomit. Or scream. Or anything. 

But you can't manage to make yourself move. You're stuck frozen; forced to stare. The change in your hand feels damp with sweat and you're clutching it so tightly that you can feel that coins burrowing painfully into the palm of your hand. Even from where you stand you can make out the messy writing written on the cardboard in an ominous, messy scrawl: 

You owe me 

And finally. Blessedly, you're able to tear your gaze away from the body. Stiffly turning your head from the carnage and over towards Gator who looks just as shaken as you. His gun is still drawn, clasped with both hands but his attention is on you. He just looks confused. Unsure and worried. For a while neither of you say a single word. You just sit still in the chilly night air, with the scent of blood choking you and fear in your eyes. And then Gator seems to be able to collect himself, holstering his gun and fixes you with a look that you can't discern. That you aren't able to. And then he utters one word with complete defeat and a little exhaustion too: 

"Shit." 

[mariejordans]

can u recommend some good aus and fics about jordan and marie I'm begging you plsssssss

*gasp* oh my goodness i love this questionnnnn!

okay, i’ll give you my current top five limoreau fics uploaded to ao3, but honestly there’s so many good ones for you to pick from, you really can’t go wrong with anything. also, these aren’t ranked in any particular order just my top five in general!

(warning: a lot of these are smutty bc it’s the most common rating in the marie/jordan tag at the moment, so if smut’s not ur thing, let me know and i can do a top 5 of non-smutty limoreau fics!)

1. you can take my flesh if you want, girl by stormbxrnbitch

rating: E

this author has only two limoreau fics out right now and both are SO GOOD (seriously, i can’t recommend this author enough) but i’m obsessed with this au which is why i put it on the list!

this specific fic is a vampire au in which marie herself is a vampire (a cool take on her canonic bloodbending powers) and jordan’s kinda (super) into it. it’s a three-shot, kinda marie-centric, and just all around super interesting and compelling to read. it’s still a wip and it hasn’t gotten smutty YET, but the author has promised lots of it for the final chapter!

2. Want Want? by Cherrydrama and Levie101

rating: M

i’ve recommended it on here before but seriously, IT’S SO GOOD!

it was written before episode five came out, so it’s a jordan pov, canon divergence fic on what happens after limoreau wakes up in the bed together, and i don’t want to spoil it too much, but i will say one thing: SPARRING/TRAINING AU.

this one isn’t super smutty iirc, it’s rated M, so it’s good if you like spice but not a lot of smut in your fics.

3. The Weight Of You by Georgiathewholedaythrough

rating: M

another canon divergence fic! written before episode five, it’s also a take on what happens after they wake up in bed together, only this time things get…smutty. it’s marie pov, very sweet, very romantic, and funny too.

4. two timing by diaphanouspages

rating: E

this is a slight au (described by the author as “has a weird relationship to the show’s actual canon, but just accept the violent canon divergence and move on”) in which jordan attempts to make marie jealous, which works and then they end up in bed together. starts off angsty and kinda smutty, but also turns sweet towards the end.

also slight praise kink for jordan, so if you’re into that…

5. Reluctant Study Buddies by MercutioTheVelaryon

rating: M

another canon divergence fic taking place after episode 4 ending, but they all go in different directions i swear!

this is a study partners/study buddies au (as stated in the title) in which marie and jordan are assigned to be partners on a project for one of their classes. it gets a bit steamy, but it fades to black so if you aren’t comfortable with explicit smut, this might be for you! also, very funny and the banter between jordan and marie in it is *chef’s kiss*

(also this author has a bunch of other limoreau fics uploaded, which i also really loved, so i recommend you check those out as well!)

THATS IT THATS THE LIST! i genuinely hope it helped even a little bit, and that it gives you the mariejordan fix we’ve all been craving since thursday 😭 also, let me know your thoughts after you’ve read if you want, i’m always down to ramble on about gen v/limoreau nonsense!

[fandom-hoarder]

A Bibro's

Sastiel Rec List

-for the canon-adjacent connoisseur-

1. Pagan by posingasme

Gen | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 17, 782 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Blasphemy, Idol Worship, Fallen Castiel, Priest Sam, Hunterverse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Castiel has fallen, too soon. Madness and desperation plague him, but, as always, his heart is still in the right place...with Sam Winchester.

🔆

2. Run Right; or Lie by orphan_account

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 5,197 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: AU, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Pre-Slash

Summary: AU in which Dean died during Faith, the first seal was broken in season one, and Sam met Castiel when his faith was as strong as ever.

🔆

3. Kneel Before the Lord Our Maker by EnInkahootz

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,000 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Supernatural Kink Bingo 2021, Porn, Smut, Blasphemy, Angels, Angel Kink, Religion, Religion Kink, Angel Wings, Wings, Flying, Clouds, Cock Worship, Dom/sub, Sub Sam Winchester, Dom Castiel, Dom Castiel/Sub Sam Winchester, Dreams, Blow Jobs, Post-Episode: s04e07 It's the Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester

Summary: After first meeting Castiel and being disappointed in It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester (Season 4, Episode 7), Sam has a dream about Castiel being the classic sort of angel he had expected to meet. Sam dreams of using his mouth to worship Castiel's holy cock, which Sam sees as an extension of god.

🔆

4. What This Is About by MissMisdemeanor

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,147 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Castiel/Bottom Sam Winchester, Riding, Sweat, Hook-Up, Secret Relationship, Canon Compliant, canon adjacent?, Making Out, Early season 5 Supernatural

Summary: “This is something you’ve wanted before today,” Cas states, and it’s true. He’s not sure if Cas even had to read his soul to get at that.

Sam’s breath stops. He freezes momentarily. “Yeah,” he admits. “Shit, Cas, yeah. I’d have done this the day we met.”

🔆

5. A First Grasp by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,034 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season 5 angst, Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, or at least the sastiel alternate ending to that episode.

Summary: Sastiel-flavored coda for “Free to be You and Me” with some early seasons bamf!castiel.

🔆

6. My Sastiel Valentine by rosworms

M/M | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 3,371 | Chapters: 3/3

Tags: Episode: s05e14 My Bloody Valentine, Slash, NSFW, Sastiel - Freeform, Sam/Cas - Freeform

Summary: A very slight AU of the episode 'My Bloody Valentine' where Sam is affected by famine in a different way.

🔆 55 more fics, in relatively chronological order, below the cut 🔆

7. Boy in the White Suit by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 13,460 | Chapters: 7/7

Tags: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Post-Apocalypse, Dark Sam Winchester, Insanity, Alice in Wonderland References, Blasphemy, Self-Destruction, Madness

Summary: Sam said no. Dean said yes. Sam lost his mind. Castiel lost his friends. That’s the road so far.

🔆

8. A More Profound Bond by confxsed

Gen, M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,824 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst, Season/Series 05, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Pre-Slash

Summary: Five little moments where Dean notices the relationship between Sam and Castiel growing.

🔆

9. some space underneath my skin by hellsreluctantheir

Part 1 of touch -- The soulless Sam and Cas were fucking verse.

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 23,607 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Soulless!Sam, Season/Series 06

Summary: Humans liked to touch each other in ways that baffled Castiel. Not just in the manner they slyly referred to as biblically. He watched them clap hands onto shoulders and backs, lean into each other in exhaustion, sleep sitting up with feet resting against each other on the floor. A constant, reverberating, nonverbal hymn. I am here. You are here. We are here, and we are alive. Angels did not need that kind of reassurance. Castiel could hear his siblings' songs no matter how near he was to them physically. Prayers and psalms in the back of his mind. It saddened him, somewhat, to think that humanity would never know that.

🔆

10. The Unexpected by muzivitch

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,253 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Sam and Castiel discuss his missing year. Also, Sam has a crush that would be obvious to anyone but Castiel (except it might even be obvious to him, after all). Takes place after 6.12 "Like A Virgin."

🔆

11. Doing Just Fine by masterlynovak

M/M, Multi | Rating: Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,069 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: idk it's a threesome but not really?, Dean is just watching Sam and Cas have sex, voyerism

Summary: Dean wakes up in a room with a naked Sam spread out on the bed.

🔆

12. Wings by Rowan203

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,415 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: AU after season 6. Sam comes back from the cage broken and changed. Dean and Castiel deal with it in different ways.

🔆

13. Between the Shadow and the Soul by Vee (Vera_DragonMuse)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 6,456 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Poetry, hell is the absence of love, take shelter in me, castiel thinks sam is the wolf, sam thinks castiel is in another story, really they're both just lost in the fog

Summary: What if Sam was the one that went to Purgatory with Castiel?

🔆

14. The Sun Pale as Milk by Icanseenow

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 39,879 Chapters: 21/21

Tags: POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 08, Purgatory, Post-Purgatory, Slow Burn, Nearly Human Castiel, Post-Season/Series 07

Summary: Instead of Dean, Castiel is the one to return from Purgatory first. He finds Sam, and together they spend a year. Looking for Dean and not looking for Dean.

🔆

15. a body of proof by lordofsoup

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 21,525 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Angelic Possession, Consensual Possession, basically possession (romantic), Trials of Hell, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage, Sam Winchester Has an Eating Disorder, a minor point but i wanted to mention it, references to honey!cas, Developing Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Body, includes art!! [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Sam's sickness worsens after the second trial, resulting in him being rushed to the hospital, the extensive damage has left Sam drained of his fight. To continue with the trials Sam must allow Castiel to heal him, by possessing him. While having an alien home under his skin is nothing new for Sam, Castiel's constant presence unwittingly unburies a host of issues. Two people desperate for forgiveness in the same body should get crowded at times but between the nightmares, the sickness, and the blood; there are some cookies, a quiet beach on the coast of Oregon, and a chance at something new between them.

🔆

16. ficlet - sastiel, a/b/o dynamics by wrenseroticlibrary_archivist

[also on tumblr]

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 580 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Post-Season/Series 08, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fallen Angel Castiel, Mating Cycles/In Heat, First Time, Porn, Ficlet, Alpha Castiel, Omega Sam Winchester

Summary: When Castiel had Fallen, he’d clearly become an alpha.

🔆

17. Stay in Touch by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 6,310 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Post-Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Missing Scene, Human Castiel, Newly Human Castiel, Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, First Kiss, First Time, Masturbation, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel, Castiel and Sam Winchester in Love, Sastiel - Freeform

Summary: Concerned about newly-human Castiel's decision to leave the Bunker on his own, Sam sets out for Idaho to find his best friend - and get some answers for himself.

🔆

18. Angels and Answers by klove0511

Part 1 of Milestones 'verse

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 15,190 Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Possessed Sam Winchester, Memory Alteration, Human Castiel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, First Time Blow Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Sam Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Alternate Season/Series 09, Winchester communication skills

Summary: Cas has discovered his sexuality as a human when the Winchesters bring him to the bunker, and he and Sam fall into bed together. When Gadreel forces Dean to drive Cas away, the two must find their way back to each other, freeing Sam from Gadreel in the process.

🔆

19. So polite by bloodandcream

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,174 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season 9, Angst, Sam topping from the bottom, Erectile Dysfunction

Summary: “Please,” was whispered into his mouth. So polite. Sam was in control here.

🔆

20. Had Worse by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,687 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Bunker Fic, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sam has a very high threshold for pain, and an iron will. So this current hunting injury, even with its weird attack on his view of reality, is nothing compared to what he has been through in the past. He’s had worse. But that does nothing to reassure those who love him.

🔆

21. I'm always dragging that horse around by Trojie

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,499 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Unrequited Wincest, Unrequited Destiel, Enochian, Phobias, Hell Trauma, Season/Series 09, Episode: s09e11 First Born, Angel Healing, Implied Wincestiel, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Sam has a horror of angels and Cas has a compulsion to heal. It doesn't help that they speak the same languages, or that Dean is elsewhere - somehow he's always between them, and somehow they still have to meet in the middle.

🔆

22. The Best Medicine by sarasaurusrex

Multi | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,247 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Comfort, Fluff, Depressed Sam Winchester, Season/Series 09, Misunderstandings, Castiel Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Established Castiel/Sam Winchester, Domestic Fluff

Summary: Castiel confuses Sam’s symptoms of depression with symptoms of the flu and tries to help. Set mid season 9.

🔆

23. anything you need, that's what i'll be by starlightswait

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,092 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Dissociation, Bodily Autonomy, Season/Series 09, Aftermath of Possession, Post-Episode: s09e11 First Born, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Food Issues

Summary: There is a strange discomfort in healing Sam in the days that follow Dean’s departure.

🔆

24. muscle memory by hellsreluctantheir

Part 2 of touch - Sam's POV s7 - s9

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,830 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 07, Season/Series 09

Summary: Sam lost his soul, slept with an angel, got his soul back, lost his memory, and then lost his mind before they could have a conversation about it. It's fine. The Hell trauma is gone, and he's coping. Even when Castiel comes back, he'll continue to cope.

🔆

25. Divine by Matthew1972

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 8,120 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: POV Sam Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Kissing, First Time, Porn with Feelings, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam Winchester, Top Castiel, Bottoming from the Top, Angelic Grace Play, Angel Wings, Morning Sex, Oral Sex

Summary: Coda/AU scene to episode S09E11, First Born. "But nothing is worth losing you", Castiel shows that what he said was something he meant. Held safe in his arms and wings Sam learns the stunning truth about 'his' angel. How he heals the pain inside of him with something more than trust, care and touch.

🔆

26. Even If We Can't Find Heaven by ellerkay

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 8,044 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Having Faith, Loss of Faith, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Pining

Summary: Sam finds his faith and loses it and finds it again, albeit in a very different form. A Sastiel love story and exploration of Sam’s faith and spirituality. [Note: prayer during sex🙏]

🔆

27. Table For Two by the_diving_fox

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,775 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: somewhere in s9, Human Castiel, valentine's day fic, POV Outsider

Summary: A tired waitress at Ann's Diner happens to serve Sam and Castiel amidst all the other obnoxious Valentine's Day couples. Sam and Castiel manage to surprise her, though.

🔆

28. Two Beat Up Humans by PacJazz

M/M, Multi | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,863 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Pre-Slash, PTSD, Post-Gadreel, Human!Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Post-trials with no angel healing hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 09, Nightmares, Domestic Fluff, Hair Brushing, Insomnia, No Smut, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Sleepiness, Literal Sleeping Together [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Both broken, yet eager to help the other heal.... Sam and Cas are living in the bunker now, sans-dean after the gadreel betrayal. Cas is newly Human now, and while he needs some help learning the intricacies of that, Sam needs some help healing. They both share things, and think through what they've lost. *In slight AU where post-gadreel Sam is living in the bunker with newly human Castiel*

🔆

29. A Crucifixion Without A Christ by angelshotgun

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con | Words: 18,501 | Chapters: 10/10

Tags: Angelic Possession, Castiel's Angelic Grace, Major Character Injury, Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hell Trauma, Sam Winchester is Loved, Hurt Castiel, Guilty Castiel, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, voicemail fixit, Post-Gadreel, Trust Issues, Sam Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Hunter Retirement [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: When Sam Winchester is badly injured on a hunt, Cas has to possess him to keep him alive and help him heal. And though Sam agreed to let him in, Cas is acutely aware of how many times Sam has had his bodily autonomy taken away from him, and how much Cas himself has contributed to Sam's pain. And now that he's inside Sam's head? Well, he tries to be as unobtrusive as possible, but Sam is just... traumatized. And hurting. Maybe, he thinks, maybe this is his chance to put aside his own feelings for Sam to help heal the hurts he had a hand in creating?

🔆

30. Moments of Madness by orphan_account

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,140 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 10, ish, Canon Compliant, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage, Protective Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Sam Winchester, Kissing, Fluff

Summary: It just happens, the first time. Dean's a Demon, and Sam's so alone. The next times?

🔆

31. Blankets by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,212 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode: s10e01 Black, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel

Summary: Sam and Cas try to take care of one another.

🔆

32. Situational Failure (The Chicken Soup Remix) by StripySock

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 2,540 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 10, Remix, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Sickfic, Frottage

Summary: There is a fear in Cas that if he lets Sam make himself at home in all of the places that Dean had declined to fill, he will lose the ability to ever refuse it again.  Or: Sam is sick, Cas is failing, and Dean is nowhere to be found. [implied unrequited destiel]

🔆

33. Feathers Falling by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 13,144 | Chapters: 6/6

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angel Wings, Castiel in the Bunker, Permanent Injury, Protective Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Fever, Delirium, Castiel & Charlie Bradbury Friendship, Alternate Canon, Season/Series 10, Angst [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel has been hurt, but he won't reveal how bad it is. Sam distracts him from the pain by reading him classic love stories, and Cas just doesn’t think any of them depict a love as strong as theirs.

🔆

34. Since When Does Sam Have PLANS? by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

Gen | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 343 | Chapters: 1/1

Summary: "Dean’s POV on Sastiel, late seasons Sastiel, the ‘mistaken for a couple’ trope.

🔆

35. Keep You from the Gallows Pole by Fallynleaf

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 7,337 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Alternate Season/Series 10 Finale, Mark of Cain Cure, Charlie Lives, Implied Unrequited Destiel, Implied Unrequited Wincest, Implied Wincestiel, Asexual Relationship [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Season 10, if it were the love story of Sam and Cas.

🔆

36. Episode 199.5 by posingasme

Part 1 of Before 200...

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 56,473 | Chapters: 20/20

Tags: Mark of Cain, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Stolen Grace, Protective Dean Winchester, Demon Blood, BAMF Castiel, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Alternate Angel Lore, Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Guilt

Summary: Dean is dealing with guilt, and fear of losing control to the Mark again. Castiel has new Grace, but eventually, it will burn out just as before. Sam just wants a fresh start all around. Life in the bunker is getting a bit...crowded. Memories and tempers are boiling over, along with something that has been heating up for a long time. Things get nasty when an old foe comes for Sam, and it's all hands on deck.

🔆

37. Wingman by posingasme

Part 2 of Before 200...

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 65,222 | Chapters: 21/21

Tags: Spoilers, Mark of Cain, Dreams and Nightmares, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Psychological Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Destructive Dean Winchester

Summary: Now that Sam and Castiel have been honest with one another, and Dean has given his blessing, the two are forced into the awkward stage of figuring out where to go from here. Dean is still battling against the Mark, and his anxiety manifests in various ways, some of which are healthier than others.

🔆

38. Sentimental Iterations by fabella

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 33,370 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Future Fic, Season/Series 11, Season/Series 10, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Betrayal, Deception, Winchester Style Death (Not Typical Death), Semi Curtain Fic, Resolved Sexual Tension, Anal Sex, Rimming, Bottom Sam, Oral Sex, Sam is a big damn hero, Castiel-centric, Human Castiel, Big Brother Dean, Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mental Instability, Sacrifice, Brother Feels, Grief/Mourning [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel learned everything he knows about devotion from the Winchesters. In this peaceful future built on the back of Sam Winchester’s most recent sacrifice, Castiel discovers that death itself can be overcome. If he’s willing to pay the price. [Notes: Set after season 10. An entirely different take on season 11.]

🔆

39. Sam's Room by NobleHouseOfBlack

M/M | Rating: Not Rated | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,864 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: No Dialogue, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Platonic Cuddling, Feel-good

Summary: Sam's room in the bunker didn't seem like his room. He slept there occasionally but there was nothing that would indicate he lived there.

🔆

40. The Devil’s Gonna Let On That You’re In The Details by sahwen

M/M | Rating: Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 3,055 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, Post-Episode: s11e10 The Devil in the Details, Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Post-Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Season/Series 12, this fic spans across a lot of time, Hook-Up, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Trauma, Protective Dean Winchester, Supportive Dean, Post-Possession

Summary: Sam and Cas have been hooking up casually for a while when something feels off to Sam. He’s sure it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

🔆

41. Loved by the Devil, loved by an angel by N_13

Part 1 of Of this damned reality

M/M | Rating: Mature | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 3,076 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, everybody needs a hug, and therapy, Hurt/very little comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, No really every relationship in this is fucked up on some level, Hurt Sam Winchester, Season/Series 11, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester

Summary: Cas has loved Sam for quite some time. Then he said yes to Lucifer and everything went to hell.

🔆

42. Heartbreak is Savvy and Love is a Bitch by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,405 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Lapdance, Light Dom/sub, Dom Castiel, Sub Sam Winchester, Sensation Play, Post-Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sam Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Safewords, Sam Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Sam Winchester is Bad at Self Care, Castiel's not the most experienced dom, Established Relationship, Light Angst [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel and Sam work on some fractures in their relationship. A gentle attempt at sensory play goes awry, leaving them scrambling to ratchet things back up to normal. Part of the 2020 Supernatural Kink Bingo.

🔆

43. Thirty Years too Late by hyperbolicfae

Gen, M/M, Other | Rating: Teen+ | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 2,770 | Chapters: 2/2

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Aftermath of Torture, Implied Mind Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Protective Mary Winchester

Summary: Mary Winchester has rescued her son. She’s just thirty years too late. Or: The aftermath of Sam’s rescue from the British Men of Letters

🔆

44. whore of babylon by angelszn (artbabe)

M/M | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 2,465 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Infidelity, Movie Night, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Floor Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Past Rape/Non-con, Guilt, Gift Exchange [contains background destiel]

Summary: “Dean is a good man, and I love him. But sometimes, I…” Cas licks his lips. “Sam, I’m afraid.” Sam should leave. He should walk away. He should run. But his body is heavy and wine-drunk, his head spins at what Cas might be hinting at. “What are you afraid of?”

🔆

45. The One You're With by gracerene

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,397 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Unrequited Wincest, Unrequited Sastiel, Platonic Sex, Friendship, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel, Fuck Or Die, Curses, Frottage, POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 12, Hung Sam Winchester, Present Tense

Summary: Sam knows better than to touch anything in the bunker that looks even the slightest bit suspicious. And yet…

🔆

46. Wins & Losses by Threshie

M/M, Multi | Rating: Teen+ | Major Character Death | Words: 17,384 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Temporarily Dead Castiel, Heartbroken Sam Winchester, Comforting Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sastiel, Wincest, Wincestiel, Poly Vee With Sam Pivot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Men of Letters Bunker, Angst with a Happy Ending, Touchy-Feely, Grieving Sam Winchester, Idiots in Love [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: A few months after Sam and Castiel start dating, the angel is killed. Still reeling from the loss of his best friend, Dean can’t just sit and watch Sam’s heartbreak slowly pull him away, too.

🔆

47. Now I am here by Matthew1972

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 13,728 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Asexual Relationship, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Feelings Realization, Hugs, Boys Kissing, Case Fic, Monster Hunters, Crime Scenes, Angst, Blood, Hurt, Pagan Gods, Magic

Summary: Castiel and Sam have come to another nameless town to free it from the claws of a dark and ancient power. As they work the case their friendship grows stronger, changing into something more or does it? This, here, now… brings the confirmation they each needed.

🔆

48. Something Good by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,876 | Chapters: 4/4

Tags: Food Issues, showtunes, Sleep Deprivation, Hurt Sam Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester

Summary: Everyone deals with their losses in their own way, and Sam prefers to work things out on his own. But his angel friend can’t stand on the sidelines as the hunter wastes away in pain. Sam may have had a complex past, but an angel’s love is proof that he must have done something good.

🔆

49. Something to Talk About by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 777 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: mentions Castiel but he's not actually here, Bunker Era, Dean being a big brother, telltale hickies, Love Bites

Summary: To be honest, Sam thought it took Dean way longer than he would’ve expected to figure he and Castiel were together.

🔆

50. Lois by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 4,195 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Superman References (DCU), Awkward Crush, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings

Summary: Jack discovers the joy of comic books, and reminds Castiel of a time when Bobby Singer called him Superman. And Dean had an opinion about who his Lois Lane was.

🔆

51. Happy Ain't a Two-Story Victorian, But it Might Be This by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,382 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode: s14e15 Peace of Mind, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake Marriage, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Dean Winchester Tries, Family Issues, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester Bonding

Summary: Sam and Castiel have been on a mission to an Arkansas hamlet, and they haven't checked in. When Dean and Jack trail them to a quiet street in Charming Acres, what they find is nothing like either of them expected. To be honest, cleaning out a nest of vampires might be easier than this, but Dean's going to give it the old college try. Whatever that means.

🔆

52. Milestones and Misunderstandings by klove0511

Part 2 of Milestones 'verse

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,711 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: mildly homophobic!Mary, inappropriate anniversary gifts, protective!Dean, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Season/Series 14, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, Oblivious!Dean

Summary: There is something different about Sam and Cass. The lingering stares, the intimate touches. The careful whispers and secret smiles. Dean knew it. He was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

🔆

53. Stricta Dormire by klove0511

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Major Character Death | Words: 3,583 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Temporary Character Death, Fairy Tale Type Death, Established Relationship, Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hell Trauma, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel, Grief/Mourning, True Love's Kiss

Summary: When Sam is hit by a spell, Cass is the only one that can save him. Meanwhile, Dean is grieving his brother, unaware of the struggle going on within Sam’s mind.

🔆

54. Roadhouse Rough by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 12,738 | Chapters: 10/10

Tags: Curtain Fic, Alcohol, Hurt Sam Winchester, Retired Hunter Sam Winchester, Bartender Sam Winchester, Permanent Injury

Summary: The last tangle with the last archangel ended with an act of spite, from which Sam will never recover. Lucifer’s bitter parting gift to his wayward vessel means Sam’s forced retirement. He runs the hub from his very own Roadhouse, and watches over a powered-down nephilim, while a weakened but recovering Castiel hunts at Dean’s side. It’s a rough life, but someone’s got to do it.

🔆

55. Familiar Spirits by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 6,619 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Wisconsin - Freeform, The Beast of Bray Road, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Season/Series 15, Monster of the Week, Case Fic, Sastiel Secret Santa Exchange, Sastiel - Freeform, Sastiel Secret Santa 2019

Summary: Fills in a little gap of time between 15-7 and 15-8. Sam's on the hunt for Eileen, and winds up on a case in the middle of Wisconsin in December. What seems like a straightforward case of werewolves gets out of hand, when the werewolves turn out to be something Sam's never encountered before. It's Castiel to the rescue, but in the middle of the night in a refrigerator of a forest, one wrong move could be the last one they ever make.

🔆

56. a rock with a hole in it by De_Nugis

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 11,052 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: faerie - Freeform, possibly in some way a Canadian shack fic, except Faerie, Consent Issues, animal death (hunting), Unrequited Destiel, Soulless Sam Winchester, POV Castiel

Summary: Castiel walks back into Faerie with Sam's soul in a jar in his pocket.

🔆

57. Right Now by spideybegins

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,512 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Comforting Castiel, samcas, Sastiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 15, Angst, Crying Sam Winchester, Don’t Look at These Messy Tags, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, no beta we die like men

Summary: The one where Cas hears Sam crying and realizes he’s been avoiding the youngest Winchester for much too long. Set somewhere in season 15.

🔆

58. It’s Good to Be Here Again, With You by raisinghellonstarbug

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,240 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Canon Compliant, Reunions, Mentioned Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Season/Series 15, Episode: s15e07 Last Call

Summary: Sam is missing Castiel and doesn't understand why he left. He knows Dean has something to do with it. But then he shows back up just in time before Sam's in real trouble.

🔆

59. wishing too hard for them to stay by angelfishofthelord

Gen | Rating: Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,727 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode s15e17 coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, One Shot, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Speculation, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: You tell me you’re doing to die, and I don’t yell at you. Instead I say, “Let’s go for a walk.”

🔆

⚠️ Unfinished Fic - last updated in 2013

60. Of Blood And Water by lovedsammy

M/M, Gen | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 20,081 Chapters: 7/?

Tags: 8x23, Fallen Angels, Post Season/Series 08, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Romance, Angst, fallen!cas, Hurt!Sam, Hurt!Cas, Slash, stigmata!sam, Stigmata, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, AU, Season/Series 9 canon divergent, Friendship

Summary: Now AU to season 9! Post-8x23, "Sacrifice". Both of them were wounded, broken, in need of repair; both of them had done things in the name of the greater good and had ultimately failed and caused something or another to bend and break and destroy upon itself. They'd both wrecked themselves to achieve an end, and in turn wrecked others. But they couldn't have been more than two opposites on the end of the spectrum that somehow aligned at the middle-point, and now there was no going back.

🔆

💜💀🖤 Self Rec 💜💀🖤

(because this is a list of my favs, and I wrote it for me)

61. grief and husbands on the interstate by ladygizarme

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,787 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: background wincest, background wincestiel - Freeform, they're a polycule but they're sam-centered, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Rimming, Bottom Sam Winchester, Spit As Lube, Wound Tending, Episode: s14e01 Stranger in a Strange Land, part coda, Part fix-it, Polyamory, Anal Sex

Summary: En route from Detroit back to the bunker, Cas makes them stop at a motel. Sam is exhausted, and so is everybody else. But right now, Castiel's priority is Sam, and he knows just what he needs. Part coda, part fix-it to 14x01.

[kindestegg]

Analyzing all the differences in the storyboards posted by Yasmin Khudari and the final product! - Part 1: No Collector Edition

Hello everyone!! Today I bring you a different kind of meta post than usual... I'm sure some of you are already aware that Yasmin Khudari who worked on The Owl House has posted quite a lot of storyboards for episodes in season 2B and For the Future as well. I will reblog this post with the link to her site later (as if I believe correctly the issue with posts with external links on them getting shadowbanned still is not fixed).

But for now! Under the cut, I will point out every difference between the storyboards and the final cut and what this could mean! There's a lot of exciting stuff to go through, so much so in fact that I will have to cut this post in half to showcase the Collector related storyboards elsewhere because there is just! So much ground to cover! And the 30 image limit would burst!!! (I know this because I've literally tried.)

(A small side note... I have elected to sometimes to not show picture evidence of things changing because we do have a 30 images limit here and I want to hopefully talk about all the changes!)

Starting with Season 2 Episode 12, Elsewhere and Elsewhen, we have this cute little scene of Lilith cutting some branches out of the way while Luz follows her and does a little twirl. I imagine this was just cut because it wasn't very necessary, but it is cute as hell.

In the final episode, they cut directly to the scene where Lilith is looking at her book showing the Pools of Time entry.

Another subtle difference likely cut for time, Lilith originally would sniff the seaweed brought by her palisman that ended up on Luz's head. In the final episode, this little action is absent.

Something that was not cut but rather added this time! In the storyboards, Lilith only goes "Eh?" when she thinks she failed in finding the time pools, whereas in the final episode, she goes into her whole spiel about how she "triple checked all her calculations, her equipment is first rate". It's possible that while the moments seen before were cut, this was added instead.

There is also another slight divergence in dialogue. In the final episode, Lilith's monologue goes: "Maybe the blood was too dry? Is it not algae blooming season?" Whereas here Lilith wonders if the map was outdated or if the oak was a bit more of a pine before wondering if it's not algae blooming season.

And finally, there is a moment that was also cut from the finale episode where Luz is wowed by the discovery of the prehistoric Boiling Isles, but finds out she can't breathe in there. This would explain why in the final episode she is heard coughing before pulling her head back out.

I do think it's a shame this was cut as it would better explain why she was coughing and would be a neat little nod to the fact the air would have been different in that era of time.

Next, we have another set of boards for Elsewhere and Elsewhen, this time showcasing Luz and Lilith traveling with Philip to the head. I'm excited to get to this one because this has some juicy changes I want to discuss.

And our first change already shows exactly what I mean: there is no mention of The Collector in these boards. Instead, both Luz and Philip are seeking something called "The Song of Stars".

And equally, Luz doesn't refer to it as a "he" who can tell them how to clear the mist, but rather just something that can grant them power.

Is it possible that at the point in time these boards were getting done, the Collector was not yet meant to be a character? Maybe the Song of Stars was rather some kind of powerful spell, something that would grant Philip a power similar to the draining spell.

Smaller detail but just something I thought was cute: In the original boards, Luz did not say "snap snap snap" out loud, so I'm glad that was added in the final cut. It's cute!

But you know what did not make the cut? Philip being a suck up to flatter Luz and Luz being absolutely adorable about it. He calls her crab language "beautiful" and says both her and Lilith are very brave and that they're like warrior princesses, which sure makes Luz happy. Oh, if only her happiness could've lasted.

A blush and happy tears!! My god girl!! I am so sorry your idol turned out to be a douche! You deserved to have kept that happiness!!!

I do have some theories as to why this was cut. Could have been reworked for time, or could have been that they didn't think people may get the reference (this reads like a Xena Warrior Princess one to me at least), or even that it might seem odd for him to have that concept...

I do think the blush here is interesting, we have seen characters in the show blush in contexts that aren't romantic such as when they are embarrassed, looking up to someone or think something is cute. So this isn't too odd, Luz is meeting what at the current time is a big idol for her and he is saying very nice things to her, which would understandably get a strong reaction.

Minor change: Luz goes "what!" in the original storyboards before asking if Philip uses glyphs too. Again, very minor change, but! Cute!!!

Interesting change here: In the original boards, Philip does not comment that it took years for him to find the glyphs and that it was almost as if the world wanted to hide them from him.

Instead, he comments he "didn't realize there was one for light as well".

This is REALLY interesting to me, because it also makes me wonder if the subtle theme of it being ambiguous whether the Titan's consciousness lingered and somehow hid the glyphs from Philip or if he was just that disrespectful and stubborn towards the B.I culture and wildlife that the only way he could rationalize his hardship was through the world being against him... was way less present in an earlier draft of the story.

He also does not comment "a warrior and a scholar, truly impressive" at Luz after she tells him she also found a glyph in a snowflake, just being quiet instead. I think that part may have been added to make more thematic sense with Lilith having a small quiet moment of looking weirded out by Philip's flattery right after.

Another minor detail: Luz also blushes in this storyboard when gushing over teaching Philip the light glyph, but this is absent in the final cut. I wonder if this was done so people wouldn't get the wrong idea, or, rather, if "my idol is so cool" gushing would be considered to be something that wouldn't be worth blushing over.

Another instance of The Collector being replaced by The Song of Stars. I find it funny in a silly way that it's in all caps, makes me think of how RPG games will write important key items or boss characters in all caps.

And that's all for the differences in this episode! But before we move onto the next, I wanted to talk a bit more about the Song of Stars because this all just... fascinates me? Coupled with that one storyboard we have seen from The Owl Beast nightmare that showed what seemed to be three figures instead of one, I wonder if back then they were toying with the idea of the celestial magic opposing earthly magic from the titans and the collectors as a species being the reason why titans are gone, but they didn't think to actually have a collector as a character back then, only have them as some distant threat and adding to the lore. The song of stars could have been some kind of powerful spell or weapon left by then way back when, perhaps even what killed the titans.

Maybe we will know once the series ends and we can ask all about the cut storylines that ended up being discarded in favor of the current one. I certainly want to know!

For, Them's The Breaks, Kid, now, we have one minor dialogue change. Eda adds a "honestly", when she says she thought there'd be more (to her misdeeds). Maybe they took it out because she WASN'T being honest? LMAO.

This is an interesting cut line: In the storyboards, before saying she'll be separated from Lilith, Eda says her parents "will kill her". While we know this is classic Eda hyperbole, I think this is interesting because to me it may have been cut due to the fact that this could be seen as odd when her parents have been shown previously to be pretty understanding... or maybe there is more to the Clawthornes than we think of.

I'm definitely not saying Dell and Gwen would be abusive, fucking hell no, but Gwendolyn has at the very least been pretty overbearing on Eda at times, and has made Lilith feel left out, presumably even before the curse if Lilith's desperation to stand out above Eda is anything to go by. Maybe, even without meaning to, Eda and Lilith's parents were pretty strict about getting them a good enough education and nudging them to join the Emperor's Coven. I mean... where do you wonder their aspiration to it came from?

Or, again, I'm just looking too much into this and this line was cut precisely because this wouldn't reflect Dell and Gwen well.

Small detail, in the storyboards, Eda said "I'll do anything to make up for this" instead of just "I'll do anything". I think it's possible they cut this because it made more sense to imply she'd do anything to stay rather than "make up for" things she wasn't truly sorry for.

More small details! Faust doesn't say "no child is beyond redemption", but rather "no one". This is interesting to me because it would imply Bump's life philosophy extends to adults as well, and in my opinion nods to the goodness in his heart.

Also! In the storyboards Eda doesn't laugh nervously, just raises her hand at Bump.

"IFWOT" also used to not have its name be said in the storyboards when Faust explained it to Eda and Bump, instead he simply called it a "special training program for gifted students of the Isles". I think this was more of a change to let us know of the name really, and it's possible they didn't have the name when it was boarded.

And finally, Faust was I guess supposed to laugh offscreen when he walked away, but this is absent from the final episode. I guess they either thought he might not be the type or they just forgot to add it, after all it would require someone to remember to record the line and add an offscreen sound effect.

Another set of boards for the same episode also shows Lilith and Eda in their studying together.

For starters, instead of Lilith saying "Trials for the Emperor's Coven are just around the corner", she says "The Emperor's Coven will be here *any* day" in the storyboards, which to be fair isn't a big difference, specially since the storyboards afterwards continue the same way with Eda pointing out seven months isn't any day/just around the corner.

Also something interesting, when giving Eda her question, Lilith specifies a potency the Leadfoot potion would have. Does this imply that potions can be mixed with varying potency, making some purposefully weaker or purposefully stronger? Maybe as a way to create balance?

Also it is barely a real difference, but I thought it'd be criminal to not let you all know Lilith is described to be "slightly envious" in the storyboards when stating that Eda is correct lol

She also had EEE on her dialogue before saying "imagine us both getting" on the storyboards which I'm sad didn't make it in!

Also there was no dialogue for Lilith pointing to the clock in the original storyboards! I'm guessing they added "look we're gonna be late" as a way to clarify what pointing anxiously at a clock meant lol

The storyboards then cut to way later in the episode, with Raine having transferred to Hexside and Eda meeting them in the cafeteria. Another slight dialogue change is Raine used to simply say their parents were surprisingly cool about it, rather than they hated the cold on the knee like they do in the final product.

It is very faint, but there is also a cut frame of Eda blushing at Raine while smiling here. Very cute!

Raine also used to take a sip while saying "give me the rundown of this place" while cutting that sentence in the middle and going "blegh" because of the taste, rather than in the final cut where they say the full sentence and then take a sip.

I think this may have been cut simply because it made the pacing of the dialogue way too awkward.

And finally, Raine used to laugh at Eda commenting on how much she liked the apple blood, which I think is just cute.

Next up, Labyrinth Runners! We have three different sets of storyboards for this one to get through!

First of all! After Bump takes a fighting stance, the coven scouts look at each other and shrug, which was cut in the final version. Guess they'd usually not think much of Bump huh...

Another set of storyboards shows us a pretty different look at the scene where Adrian has Gus held inside the gym: First of all, for some reason this set of boards is missing all of Adrian's dialogue, which makes it hard for us to infer just how much changed about that from the storyboards to the final cut, but we can see a glimpse of a different storyline with Gus' one line in all this:

"I'll never join your coven"... does that mean, originally, Adrian would try to force Gus to join the illusion coven, and Gus was resisting because he probably figured out by now getting coven sigils is bad news? But then again, I can imagine this was cut and quickly reworked into something a little less convoluted and more straightforward: Gus wouldn't know yet just how bad joining a coven is and about the draining spell, and Gus DOES specialize in illusion, so it could look odd that he is resisting this much.

There's another set of boards of when Hunter wakes up at the infirmary, and sadly this one is also missing dialogue. But we can still infer some differences!

First of all, after Skara tells him it's not an illusion and he is in the healing homeroom, Hunter opens his mouth briefly, maybe speaking words of relief or just sighing in relief really.

Also minor thing: it's a bit hard to tell with how these storyboards are with missing chunks, but it seems like Willow would have walked up to Hunter to defend him without him having to have brought up Gus' breathing exercise.

And for the last board in this, uhm, I don't... think this was meant to make it into the final cut but. LOL. LMAO.

Moving onto King's Tide!

Originally, we would've seen Luz use her safe fall spell when dodging Belos' attacks!

Also, instead of saying that it took him years to figure that (combining glyphs) out, Belos instead says it took him years to "harness their strength"... and he does NOT say anything about it being almost as if the titan was hiding it from him. Hmmm. Perhaps, more fuel to the fire of the theory that back then, there was no subtle implication of either the titan's consciousness lingering or Belos attributing his own disdain and lack of care to the titan?

This also curiously alters the next bit of dialogue: he still says "though you're still decades away from beating me", just earlier. And soon after, he says "that was almost impressiv-" getting cut out when Luz sends fire out at him. Not gonna lie, I almost wish this was kept because I like the idea of Belos getting cocky and immediately getting blasted, unable to finish his sentence. But oh well!

Speaking of dialogue differences!

Here, Philip says "And I'm giving you a chance to be saved, Luz. To go home!" instead of "And despite our differences, I want to help you, Luz. I can send you home." I consider this more or less the same, really, but it is an interesting change. He leans more on the saving aspect here.

And there is a pretty big cut scene also with how Luz responds to "I don't want to see another human life destroyed by this place".

Here, she snaps that he's the one destroying things, and wonders what it is all for, and then asks "what do you think they DID to you?"

Only after this, in the storyboards, does she go on to her "you're such a hypocrite" lines.

To me, this is a bit of a shame for having been cut out, because I feel like it brings up a good point about how Philip self justifies his wrongdoings by believing that the Boiling Isles residents are all inherently bad by the way they simply are, and that this divergence he cannot understand could somehow justify the drastic violent measures he takes.

I think it could have been this was cut for time, or maybe the crew thought this addition would be a bit confusing for some audiences to understand the implications it is trying to set up. It IS indicative of a bigger exploration of Philip's psyche after all.

Another incredibly interesting change: in the storyboards, Luz used to not have the petrification spell continue crawling up her, and is able to shake it off okay. I imagine they changed this to maybe make the situation look more dire and up the stakes a little, otherwise the scene might be too stale and anticlimactic with just Luz being able to keep talking and not having time ticking down on her life.

She also shuffles to her feet and is able to stand up while facing him, while in the final episode she can't get up due to the petrification spell still crawling up on her. Not gonna lie, I almost wish we did get this one, because the way she controls the situation with Philip here kind of feels more satisfying like this, while in the final product, you're busy going "shit shit shit LUZ OH NO".

She also used to cry a lot more on the boards when begging for the deal... I wonder if they added the petrification continuing really to just hammer home the desperation and make her crying have a "reason", though uh... hot take, I think she has reason enough to cry considering the Draining Spell threatening to kill everyone.

Also! Belos used to "chuckle" as the boards call for it when he was about to shake Luz's hand, but he doesn't do so in the final cut.

And finally for this batch: there's a small cut moment of Belos saying "you" with pained effort at Luz after she fucking booms him and gets the sigil on him, and she fucking STARES back with the most ominous badass look. I'm kind of sad that didn't make it in. Yeah it's minor but I like every time it's very clear Luz is being a thorn on his side and he is actually really fucking bothered by it actually.

Next batch of storyboards for this ep shows the fight with Belos on the bridge! First difference I can think of is that Luz was supposed to say "Philip" very quietly before getting jumpscared by him showing up behind her. It may have been cut similarly just because of them not getting audio for it or something or it not being necessary.

Bigger dialogue change: Instead of saying "we don't belong here", Belos says "I wanted to save you", which adds more fuel to the fire that they used to put a lot more emphasis on Philip's psychology of seeing himself as the one who gets to decide who is saved and seeing himself as a savior and martyr, and also someone done wrong by the demon realm.

I can't really know for sure why this was reworked and why more emphasis was put on rather Philip seeking to relate to Luz in their humanity. A lot of these boards seem to put even more emphasis on them as foils, standing up as equals against each other, and I do kind of lament we lost that? I mean, don't get me wrong, I can totally see that STILL lingers in the final product, but it feels way stronger in these.

By the way, if you're wondering, Luz does not say "I'm nothing like you" here either, it just cuts right onto Willow grabbing Belos with vines.

Also! When the gang shows up, they used to have no dialogue about how they're here to help and all, just cutting to Luz saying "you guys!!" (in the final product, she says "You guys are literally the coolest"). I do like the final product more, it's cute and adds more I think.

This one deserves to get shown: there's a cut little moment after Amity covers Luz where they look at each other and blush and it is! So cute! Why did it not make it in!! WHAT! Just because it "isn't the time to be gay"? Bullshit! Yuri time is all the time!

But for something that wasn't in the boards but made it in! Hunter protecting Willow was added in the final product!

And that is it for King's Tide... and so I ask that you tune in next time for when I analyze the For the Future boards!! I am VERY excited to get through those, specially because even between the roughs and cleans for a scene, there's so many little differences!!! And I want to talk about it ALL!!

[starks-hero]

The Truth is Rarely Kind

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant

Summary: By the grace of a begrudged god, you are resurrected. But before you can return to Marc and Steven, there is something Khonshu believes you need to see.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angsty angst, episode 5 spoilers, slight claustrophobia, child abuse, depictions of blood and injury, canon-divergence, Khonshu is Khonshu but he cares in his own way

a/n: Here's the long overdue part two of smoke and mirrors! I tried my best to combine my original idea for a second part with the events of episode 5 and voilà. Hope you enjoy!

Read part one here! or Read part three here!

It didn't feel as though you had woken up. Rather, you had shifted from one dream to another.

The artificially white walls of a physiatric hospital had vanished in whisps of thin smoke and been replaced with polished, aged stone. The hieroglyphics that marked the walls as well as the strong musky scent that clung to all things ancient gave you a clear understanding of where you stood. You glanced around the temple in awe, the sand soft beneath your feet as you turned to take in its true magnitude.

The statue that stood in the temple's centre towered over you. Basked in fresh moonlight, it grasped a crescent staff in one hand and wore a tight expression carved by the most expert hand. Power and authority seemed to radiate from the stone. The sculpture's stance demanded respect and your knees almost buckled under its intimidation. Despite its lifelessness, it still succeeded in filling you with a sense of unease.

A towering shadow appeared before you, swallowing you up and when you turned to face its owner you were met with the skeletal form of a lunar god.

“You surprised me today, little one.” His voice rattled, filling the temple and leaving no room for you to reply. He continued.

“There are things that you must know. To reverse something as permanent as death is to invite the judgement of the gods and I am afriad that I have angered them for the final time.”

“You? Afraid?” There was an attempt at amusement in your voice. In the face of your current predicament, you decided humour was far more favourable than insanity. Khonshu didn't falter.

“I will no longer be capable of protecting Marc. That task I must now pass to you until I can be freed.”

You cautiously stepped towards the deity. “I don't understand...”

Khonshu lowered himself to his knees, crouching before you and seeing such a powerful god in a pose that diminished so much of his authority was uncomfortable. You were almost face to face with him now and you were fairly certain that this was the first time the god was looking at you and not down on you; both figuratively and literally.

“I shall send you back to the realm of the living. But first, there are shadows that haunt Marc's past, shadows he has yet to expose to you from fear of rejection. These are secrets you must know if you are to keep him alive until my return.”

“What kind of secrets?”

Khonshu's skeletal head fell forward in a silent sigh, his beak almost gracing the sand. “That is for you to discover.”

The sand was suddenly kicked up around you as a door, seemingly carved from the thin desert air, appeared at your back.

“Hurry along, little one. We do not have long.”

With hesitance, you approached the doorway. Your feet grew heavier with each step and your fingers numbed as they wrapped around the handle. Your morality shunned you, berating you for willingly stepping into Marc's past and exposing his secrets without his knowledge. But your rationality overruled your moral judgement.

You glanced over your shoulder to Khonshu, like a young child seeking guidance from their elder. But the god was gone. With a deep breath and a thundering heart, you opened the door.

You were unsure of what you were expecting to find on the other side, but this certainly wasn't it. You stood in the middle of a garden, surrounded by bird song and the nostalgic smell of a summer barbecue; everything you'd expect to find in a precious childhood memory. A golden filter of warmth seemed to envelop you and your surroundings and despite your earlier peril, you were suddenly overcome with a sense of calm.

“Food’s ready!”

A woman stood at the grill, grinning as she turned the golden meat over the fire. Two boys sat at the wooden table to your right and the striking resemblance and teasing words shared between them told you they were brothers.

They stood to leave and you followed.

“Hey, hey Marc,” the woman called the older boy and your heart ceased to beat for a moment. “ Keep an eye on your brother. Okay?”

The eldest boy, who possessed a familiar pair of brown eyes, only filled with so much more innocence than the ones you knew, nodded as he left. You hurried after them.

As both brothers made their way through a small grove of trees and overgrown grass, you remained a few paces behind. Playful banter and childish ideas were exchanged between the boys and an odd combination of confusion and unease settled in your stomach at the mention of a character in their make-believe game named ‘doctor grant’. 

The sky darkened, menacing storm clouds swelling in the sky and your pace quickened.

A large, rugged body of stone emerged from the tree line before you, its gaping mouth taking the form of a cave entrance. Your body came to a halt, your feet freezing to the earth beneath you. You couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, it was almost instinctual, something screaming in the back of your mind ‘don’t go in there!’ You tried to take a step forward but gravity itself seemed to deny the action. It was almost as if Marc’s subconscious was trying to stir you from the memory. There was something inside the cave he really didn’t want you to see.

A booming roar of thunder sounded and proved enough to get you moving again. The boys, ahead of you now, were engulfed by the cave's darkness and you found yourself hesitating at the entrance. The rain had begun to come down harsh and heavy, its droplets dampening your clothes and chilling your skin.

“Tick tock, Y/N. We do not have time to spare.” The god's voice rung inside your head.

You cautiously stepped inside the caves gaping mouth. Your feet failed to find purchase on the wet surface of the rock and you clung to the ragged edges of the walls for support. Three steps further and an incline in the rock sent you into two feet of rising water.

“Boys!” Your voice rose with fear. “The water's rising, you need to get out of here!”

You inched forward, your feet no longer visible beneath the water. “Boys!” The gaps between the rock grew narrower and narrower and you felt the jagged stones bite into your skin as you continued. The water was rising fast, drenching your knees now. “Boys, we really need to leave!”

The trail you followed came to a sudden end, a small opening at your feet the only path left. Your heart sank. You immediately got to your knees and tried to enter where you knew the two brothers were trapped. But the unforgiving stone bit into your shoulders and held you back, trapping you between two slabs of rock.

Desperate cries for help rung out ahead of you.

“Marc! Marc, I'm here just– follow my voice!” Your voice was drowned out by the rising water. The cries for help seemed to only grow louder. No, no, no. You clawed at the rock beneath you, trying to pull yourself further into the hollow in the cave's wall but you were lodged so tightly your chest was struggling to rise against the stone. The water had reached your chin, and the boy's cries for help had grown quieter and quieter before they stopped altogether. “Marc! Marc!”

You blinked and it was all gone. The cave, the water, everything but the fear.

Now you stood in a living room, filled with mourners wearing black. A heavy sense of grief hung in the air. You quietly passed the people in the room, surprised that no one commented on the mess your wet clothes were leaving on the polished floor. An indescribable sense of pain and loss settled against your chest when your eyes landed on a table in the middle of the room. A candle of remembrance had been lit and placed beside a photograph of a young boy, his smile childish and bright. He had his brother's eyes.

Your hands shook as you picked up the photo frame, guilt weighing heavily on your mind. You became so swept up in your failure to save his life you forgot that this tragedy was nothing more than a memory you were reliving. And someone else's memory at that.

The weight of footsteps on old stairs sounded and you glanced up in unison with the congregation to find a boy standing idly on the steps. He wore a suit far too big for him and an expression too heavy for such a young face.

“What are you doing here?”

The question was so sudden for a moment you feared it was directed at you. But you turned to find the owner of the voice, the woman from the garden, staring at the boy on the stairs with a look so venomous it made you feel ill.

“You were supposed to keep him safe! You let him drown. This is all your fault!”

The boy, Marc you reminded yourself firmly, retreated upstairs in an attempt to escape his mother's words and you followed almost instinctually.

The sight you were met with should have been a happier one. The image of a boy sitting before his cake, candles bright with a birthday promise, should have been one of joy. But the absence of Marc's brother and mother meant you watched through a lens tinted with heavy sadness.

Your feet were leading you to Marc's side before you even realised it. He was just a child. He should have been jovial and carefree, covered in dirt from childhood adventures. Instead, he sat before you burdened by a sibling's death and an accusation pushed on him by a grieving mother. He didn't deserve this–

“Marc...” your hand reached out to brush his shoulder but the memory turned to smoke between your fingers.

The next memory to form wasn't all that different. The decorations remained, as did the cake. But Marc seemed... happier. You watched him decorate the cake with numbered candles with enthusiasm.

12.

Marc's mother appeared behind him and you felt the air grow cold as if a shadow had engulfed the room and swallowed up all the joy. A glass and bottle of liquor were held heavily in her hands and you watched with a feeling of unease as she seated herself at the table.

“You were always jealous of him, from the day he was born.”

You swallowed your anger.

“I should have known you would do something like this,” she continued, voice filled with so much contempt for her son you felt your rage pull at the bars of its confinement. Marc stood and ran from the room and with him went your composure. Your anger contorted into something ugly and dark; something that would lead you to say something you'd regret. Yet you were beginning to believe there was nothing you could do to the women before you that would evoke any sense of remorse.

“He's just a child.” It had been more of a thought, one so heavy it had materialised into words with little intent on your part. “How can you sit there and put this on him? He's just a little boy.”

Your words seemed to be swallowed up by the silence before they could reach Marc's mother.

“You are nothing more than a shadow in these memories,” came Khonshu's voice. “You cannot change what has already been. Stop wasting time.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so harshly a metallic taste filled your mouth. Tears of anger welled in the corners of your eyes. You waited for your composure to return before you turned your back on the woman sat at the table.

Climbing the stairs was a perilous task. You felt plagued by the horrid feeling that every step took you closer to a memory so much more awful than the last.

The door handle seemed to burn your palm as you entered the unmistakable room of a little boy. Posters and childish paintings covered the walls and the floor was dominated by toys and puzzles. The room's untidiness personified the carefree nature of a child. And there, looking so very out of place, was Marc.

You approached him with quiet steps. Marc’s hands were placed over his ears and his eyes were scrunched shut with the innocent childlike belief that not seeing something meant it did not exist.

The door began to shake violently on its hinges. Marc grew more panicked until his eyes rolled back and you were left looking at a very different little boy. One with good manners and a gentle British accent.

The wood of the bedroom door creaked and splintered behind you and you felt your blood run cold. It froze entirely when the door gave in and Marc's mother entered the room, bringing with her the stench of whiskey.

You took an involuntary step back.

“You're going to learn to listen.” Her words grew to have a far darker meaning as she grabbed hold of the belt hanging on the closet.

Your mind blanked as you stepped in between Marc and his mother, the only thing you could comprehend was the need to protect the little boy behind you. You raised your hands but the harsh sting of leather across your cheek caused you to stumble. You tried to stand but another harsh blow landed and you felt the belt's buckle bite into the crown of your head.

“You disgusting human.”

You couldn't tell who the insult was targeted at, but it was filled with such malevolent malice you cowered all the same. Your vision blurred and yet through the tears, you saw Marc's mother raise her arm, belt in hand. The sound that followed made you sick.

In the light of something so horrible, something you were powerless to stop you found yourself repeating what a young Marc had done just moments earlier when faced with the unbearable. You closed your eyes.

Everything after that was blurred. At first, you thought you'd lost consciousness but you supposed you couldn't exactly fall asleep when you weren't awake to begin with. When you finally found the strength to open your eyes, you stood in the middle of a neat avenue, a vista of trees decorating the sides of the street.

Your head still ached but when you laid a hand to the injury you pulled it away free of blood. Slowly, you took in your surroundings.

The house before you was familiar, one you felt you'd visited but never bothered to commit to memory. Your hands fell against the window sill as you peered through the glass. You were met with the familiar sight of a congregation dressed in black mourning the death of a loved one and you felt a surge of sadness at the realisation of just how much Marc's life had been plagued with loss.

The windowpane, which seemed to have almost been excessively cleaned, was clear enough for you to make out the black-framed photo of a woman placed between two lit candles. She was smiling and the expression seemed unnatural on a face you'd seen portray such hatred. As disgusted as it made you feel, you couldn't find it in you to feel any remorse for her passing.

A man, aged and saddened, approached the window and you stepped back fearing you'd been noticed. But his stare pierced right through you as if you were air. You turned to follow his gaze.

Marc stood on the other side of the street. Everything about him told you he was tired. His eyes were red and glass-like, his brows knit together in a pained expression and his hair looked as though he'd been endlessly pulling at its roots. He took a swig from his flask before turning his back on his family home.

You caught up with him quickly. His sorrow slowed him and he stumbled as he walked. Broken, somewhat incoherent words fell from his trembling lips. He looked so much like the young boy you'd seen moments earlier. Pained, abandoned and deserving of so much better.

Your hands ached to reach out to him. To hold him and comfort him with gentle and kind words. The knowledge that what you were witnessing had already come to pass and that he had experienced such grief alone left you feeling hollow.

He fell to his knees on the cobblestones and you followed him down. Silently kneeling before him, you watched the man you'd grown to care so much for fall apart. And the one thing that hurt more than the heavy sobs that shook his shoulders was your inability to comfort him.

Marc suddenly raised his head and for a moment you felt overcome with the relief that he could see you. But just as his name passed your lips and your hand reached out to touch him, his eyes shifted and you realised it had just been a cruel coincidence.

You watched as his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, the muscles in his neck flexing almost painfully. When he opened his eyes and straightened himself, you were left looking at a different man. His eyes were softer and the accent you'd grown so fond of shaped his words of confusion as he took in his surroundings.

“Steven.” Your voice was weak as you said his name. Soft, kind, loving Steven. Your Steven. The human personification of all things good and warm and kind. All this time, Steven had been a wall, a silent protector that shielded Marc from a harsh reality. And seeing him unknowingly carry out that role caused your heart to ache.

Your eyes grew misty as Steven appeared to speak to his mother on his phone. You caught sight of the phone screen, blank and with no sign of any caller on the other end of the line.

You didn't follow him as he stood and walked away, you couldn't. Your heart felt too heavy to allow your body to move.

“Your paths crossed for the first time later this day,” Khonshu's voice echoed in your mind. You shook your head and ran your hand along your damp cheeks.

“Please, no more. I don't want to see any more of this. Please, I–”

“There is one more thing you must see.”

The street fell away before you, the buildings giving way to a vast night sky and the cobblestone beneath you dissolving into thousands of fine grains of sand.

Bodies were strewn out at your feet, blood stained the ground and a deserted truck burned to your left, painting the scene of a merciless massacre. Stretched out before you and half-buried in the sand was a familiar temple.

A dark trail of blood guided you towards its entrance. Had you not already seen such horrid things the sight of Marc, bloodied and dying, holding a gun to his head, may have evoked a stronger reaction.

The statue above him, basked in beams of moonlight, held an undoubtable likeness to the god of the moon. The cogs began to turn in your head.

You listened intently to the words exchanged between the deity and Marc.

“Your mind, I feel it. Fractured. Broken.” Khonshu drawled. “Most fascinating.”

You glared at the monument of stone.

“In exchange for your life, do you swear to protect the travellers of the night and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?”

The shifting of sand sounded from behind you. “You were manipulating him,” you said, refusing to turn and face the god. “From the very start.”

“I did what had to be done.”

You scoffed. “You did what was best for you.”

“I did not make him do anything he did not wish to. He agreed.”

He was dying!” You turned harshly. “You took advantage of a dying man. You do not 'protect the travellers of the night'–” you jabbed an accusing finger towards the god. “You're a self-satisfied coward.”

Khonshu lowered his head, in shame or exhaustion you couldn't tell; although your intuition told you it was the latter.

“Marc and Steven would have been far better off without you.”

Silence settled and for a moment you entertained the possibility that you may have just put an ancient deity in his place. Then a hollow, unnerving noise sounded. It took you a moment to realise the god was laughing.

“You think you know him so well.” The amusement in Khonshu's voice made you uneasy. “And yet you don't even know about the other one.”

His words threw you off-kilter. You were unsure if what he was saying came from a place of candour or trickery. “What are you talking about?”

The god ignored you and looked skywards. The world around you began to pale, fading away. A feeling of finality hit you.

Khonshu began to, for lack of better words, disappear, fragments of his skeletal form chipping away and vanishing into nothing.

“See how well the four of you fare without me,” the god managed and then he was gone.

You tried to call after him but a sudden rush of water flooded past your parted lips. Your sight darkened and the world shifted around you. Your body jolted and you sat up, rasping coughs tearing from your throat. A hand on your back kept you upright and when your vision finally cleared you were met with a familiar pair of brown eyes.

“Marc?”

“Oh, thank god.” He pulled you to his chest. His heart thumped violently against your ear. You almost got caught up in the torrent of emotion but you allowed yourself to simply relish in the fact that you were not dead. Marc's hold on you didn't lessen as he craned his head enough to look at you.

“You're alright? You're okay?” his hand pawed at the side of your face, brushing away the damp hair that clung to your skin. You answered with a meek nod electing to ignore the metallic taste of blood still heavy in your mouth.

Layla knelt at your side, head in her hands and posture slumped with relief.

As you settled further into consciousness you recalled the dire situation you had just been in, both the getting shot and the time travelling with an ancient god.

“M– Marc...”

“Look at you, you're trembling.” He wasn't wrong. You had no idea how long you'd been lying in the shallow pool of water whilst Khonshu decided whether or not you were worth saving. Your lips trembled and the ends of your fingers felt numb. You felt as though the water had seeped into your very bones. “Here. We've gotta get you warm... gotta get you warm.”

You'd never seen him like this. So distraught and numbed with worry. All his composure had dissolved and it seemed he was talking more to himself than you as he pulled off his white jacket and wrapped it around your shaking form.

“Marc, where's Khonshu?” you tried. Your voice still trembled. “Marc.”

He finally looked at you and it seemed as though he was hearing you for the first time. “Gone,” he answered and left it at that.

“The ushabti...” you slurred. You could feel your mind growing weary. The initial adrenaline had worn off leaving your body feeling heavy and your mind distraught due to what it had bore witness to. Your eyes felt heavy; desperate for rest.

You wanted to ask more, to seek out answers to the abundance of questions still whizzing around your aching head. But you were too cold to speak and a sharp, throbbing pain persisted in your chest.

“You're okay,” Marc said and again you couldn't tell if he was talking to you or himself. “You're okay.”

You were lifted from the chilling water, your damp clothes clinging to your body. The rhythmic movements of Marc's steps as he walked lulled you gently and your eyes refused to open despite how much you tried to command them. Soon the chilling shadows of the tomb were replaced with the warming beams of the sun against your skin. Everything else came in fragments after that.

The revving of a car engine, Marc's voice in your ear and the feel of car tires biting over the sands of the desert. The jacket, heavy with the scent of ash, coffee and all things you associated with the boys was wrapped tighter around your body.

Your head lulled drearily against Marc's shoulder and you felt him readjust his hold on you so that you were nestled against his neck. Taking his eyes off you for possibly the first time since the bullet hit your chest, Marc looked out the tainted window of the van, glancing over the rolling dunes of sand. He caught sight of his reflection in the rear mirror, although it held the expression of a different person; brows creased with worry and eyes glossy.

“It's alright,” Marc comforted Steven. “She's okay.” His nails dug into the coat bunched at your shoulders, his hold on you firm. It didn't loosen until he'd gotten you back to the safety of the Cairo hotel room.

He brushed aside the shattered glass on the floor with his foot, (residue of an earlier outburst,) before he laid you on the bed. He knelt at your side and gently grasped your hand with his own. His fingers dragged over your knuckles and occasionally traced your pulse. He caught sight of Steven in the mirror off to his right, looking utterly distraught.

He remained unmoving as the sky darkened, the monumental shape of the Giza's pyramids fading into the night. It was only after he'd changed your bloody clothes and patched up the mostly healed bullet wound in the centre of your chest did you begin to stir.

“Hey,” he brushed his hands over your forehead. He was smiling, but it was saddened and forced. “You gave us a real scare.”

You pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard. His hand was still holding yours, a comforting weight. Marc looked dishevelled at best. There was a heaviness and a weariness to his posture and his eyes were still rimmed red.

“I thought I'd lost you.”

Your hand tightened around his own. You were reminded of just how many people Marc had lost in his life and felt an odd sense of guilt consume you for almost adding to that list. For almost becoming another burden he'd have to carry.

“What happened after –” you vaguely motioned to your chest where the angry swelling around your bullet wound was visible between the undone buttons of your shirt. Marc's fingers had been shaking too much to button them properly.

He sat up a little straighter at your question. “It–uh, it was Khonshu.” You hoped he didn't notice how your jaw set angrily at the mention of the god. “He brought you back. Took a bit of convincing but you're here so I guess he turned out to be good for something after all.”

“And the ushabti?”

“Safe.” Marc's voice was tender with reassurance. “Layla's taken it to one of her Cairo safe houses. It couldn't be anywhere safer.”

You nodded and then fell silent.

Marc watched you carefully. It felt unnatural, how reserved you were being with him, and your inability to look him in the eye was making his skin crawl. You seemed burdened, weighed down. Even ignoring the fact that you had danced with death just hours earlier, you still looked off.

“You alright?” he asked carefully. He tightened his hold on your hand.

“I'm fine.” The lie was so unconvincing you winced and bit down on your tongue. If Marc had noticed your dishonesty, which he most definitely had, he decided against commenting on it. He knew the irritation that came with being pressed to talk about something you'd made clear wasn't on the cards and he wasn't going to inflict it on you; certainly not a mere half-hour after he'd fished two steel bullets out of your chest.

There was a large, more morally commendable part of you that wanted so badly to tell Marc that you knew. But for the first time in a while, you chose self-preservation. There was a tenderness in the way he was looking at you now, softer than he had before and you didn't want to jeopardise it by saying the morally right thing at the very wrong time.

The mattress dipped and you didn't raise your head to meet his eyes as Marc settled beside you. His own body was stiff, his legs moving out along the bed rigidly. Even his breathing was strained.

A heavy stillness filled the air between you. You were so grateful to be laying there beside him then, both of you alive and breathing. But that joy was lessened by the bubble of guilt still expanding in your chest.

“Is Steven alright?” You asked. You couldn't get his frightened expression out of your mind.

“He's pretty shaken,” Marc answered honestly. “You should talk to him.”

Your head fell forward in a nod and before Marc left you you gently reached out your hand to cradle his cheek. He leaned into the touch with a surprising eagerness. His eyes were devoid of their usual hardness, not seeking out the reason behind your sudden display of intimacy. He just relished in the fact that you were there with him.

Gently tracing your thumb along his stubble, your hand curled around the nape of his neck.

“It wasn't your fault.”

You could tell by Marc's reaction that he didn't catch on to the true magnitude of your words. He assumed you were talking about the bullets and the gun, about Harrow and that fact that he shouldn't blame himself for the wound on your chest just inches from your heart. Not the death of his brother or the abuse he endured.

A smile that walked the line between saddened and grateful graced Marc's lips and then he was gone.

There were tears in Steven's eyes within seconds of him fronting. His arms were around you in an instant.

“You're alright, oh thank god–” His voice was thick with emotion and he held you so tightly his nails dug almost uncomfortably into your shoulders. “I was so worried. I saw the gun and what he did to you and– and there was so much blood... oh god– I thought... I thought you were–”

A heavy sob crawled up his throat. Your hands wound into his curls and you comforted him as best you could with the reminder that you were alright.

“I should have never left you alone. Marc wouldn't have,” he managed. “I– darling, I am so so sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault, love.” You held him tighter. “I'm here now, I've got you. Just focus on that, yeah?”

His sobs eventually wore down into silent tears and you continued to placate him with tender reassurances. It took a while for him to calm, and you understood why. Where Marc had the time to somewhat digest everything that had occurred in the past few hours, Steven had been thrown off the deep end and then left in the dark until now.

“You shouldn't compare yourself to Marc,” you said softly. “I don't think you realise how much you do, how much you protect Marc and I from. You are so good, Steven.”

Much like with Marc, there was no way Steven could truly understand the depth of your words, not without knowing what you knew.

He teared up again all the same.

It soon grew quiet and you both welcomed the peace. You inched down the bed and Steven shifted so that you could lay against his chest. There was still an unspoken sense of concern between you both, just as there had been with Marc. The realisation that the events of the day could have been far more dire had Khonshu not intervened continued to roll over you both in waves.

You dispersed the thought of it, along with everything Khonshu had shown you, with a sharp inhale.

“You should get some rest, love.” Steven's voice was soft. “You look knackered.”

And as tired as you were, you couldn't find sleep.

Rather, you focused entirely on Steven and the slow rising of his chest. It calmed you to know he was safe.

You looked out the open window, the untied blinds moved in whisps with the night wind. You watched the moon as it travelled against the sky and wondered how long it would be before its god returned in search of a debt to be paid.

Smoke and Mirrors tag list: @bakerstreethound @crazydavefromplantsvszombies @admin-in-residence @bibli0thecary @mischiefmanaged71 @hoemadegrace @the-great-imagines-of-1812 @lokiedokiee @linkpk88 @theconsultingdoctor10 @jamiethenerdymonster @ponyboys-sunsets @shirukitsune @stwrawr @spectorsvoid @slytherheign @spideysimpossiblegirl @bored-as-hell-666 @marimarvelfan @stanmixtapes @stevenwith-a-v @buckys-other-punk @niname92 @stilllivindue2spite @daughterofthequeen @angelstark16 @child-of-the-moon-gods @alotofsomething @heeheeeeeeesblog @evienorville @interactive-brain @le3h4 @cutiecoww

thank you for reading!

[gay-dorito-dust]

⚠️Spoilers for tlovm season 2 episode 3! You’ve been warned!⚠️ also slight canonical divergence at the end.

‘You’re just deadweight.’ Osysa comments.

‘What do you bring to the group that they don’t already possess? They’ve kept long enough out of pity, to them your just a domesticated house pet they choose to being along as if they were to set you loose into the woods; you would surly die without their protection.’

‘What makes you think that they’d shed a tear at your death, should it come to pass? For you have proven yourself to be of no worth.’

The patron of the Slayers Take words stung but they had to have hold some truth for them to hurt as much as they did. Compared to everyone else, you were the runt of the litter, the weak link, the lesser known member of vox machina whom overshadowed you in every aspect you thought of.

And they were true, you knew it, they knew it, everyone you’ve come across since joining vox machina knew it and yet instead of changing everyone’s perspective of you and proving to not only them but all of Tal’Dorei that you weren’t as useless as they thought. You chose to embrace it, embrace the fact that you’ll never amount to anything or stand on equal footing with your contemporaries.

You didn’t bother to fight against what you already knew deep inside as you thought it would proof fruitless. You weren’t stupid to not notice Keyleth, pike or vex’s sympathetic glances. They saw you as weak. They pitted you, they liked you but didn’t respect you. Not enough for them to put their trust in you to hold your own in a fight which was why one of the group would always be paired up with you.

It once pissed you off but soon you lost your willpower to prove your difference. It was probably the reason why you sat further away from them during camp fires and tavern outings, almost as though you were the one embarrassed to be seen with them. You dismissed Keyleth’s question of whether you were cold with a fake smile followed by an ‘I’m alright.’ That didn’t convince them.

You could see it in their eyes it didn’t but they couldn’t being themselves to be bothered in changing that. Not one of them and once upon a time this would’ve made your heart ache but now you just shrugged it off. You even slept a distance away from them too and would awake to the sounds of their laughter, wordlessly pack your bags as they chatted amounts themselves as though you never existed.

The conversations would die down when you approached to get something to eat only to pick back up again when you left. If they disliked your presence then why keep you along was a question you’ve pondered more often then you should.

So even now as you stood a distance away from Vex and Percy as they open Purvan’s sarcophagus to reveal the death walkers ward. You felt isolated even in a room full of the people you meant to care for and vice versa. You hadn’t spoken a word to any of them but none of them seemed to care in asking the question why that was.

So when you saw Percy’s hand reach out to touch the armour just as Vex was was about to exclaim that you all should wait for Vax to come out from the hole in the ground. However it was far too late for waiting, Percy’s hand had already touched the armour and from it came what looked to be a flurry of black feathers heading straight for vex.

So without thinking or giving much thought to your actions, you shoved vex aside and allowed yourself to be hit by the flurry of feathers instead as you were flung back and struck the ground a few paces away from the sarcophagus, just as a black feather touched your forehead and dissipate soon after contact. Your eyes faded of all colour, your body; motionless as though you were dead.

You doubted that any of them cared enough about to shed a tear.

[zhansww]

spoilers up until episode 14

Let me try and analyze this for a moment... I think Tunan already made it clear in episode 8 that he trusts Wei Ruolai, even saying he'd take responsibility himself if Ruolai should turn out to be a communist. And yet, he still allowed that police captain to arrest him. It makes no sense imo. Especially not after Ruolai even admitted to stealing the gun and Tunan could figure out for himself why he stole it. Like, why does it take Ruolai, getting imprisoned and tortured close to death but still being loyal to his xiansheng for Tunan to finally trust Ruolai.... he already trusted him before that. Or he should have. The only actual reason I see as to why the writers tortured Ruolai is to show how evil the non-communists are, basically. That's all that those torture sequences are supposed to serve. Which tbh, doesn't make all the angst that came with it less effective but it still annoys me. They knew, we, as viewers, may not feel much for any random guy, getting tortured but seeing our sweet protagonist get whipped, electrocuted, branded and drugged is bound to have an effect. As in, make us hate the non-communists more. Mind you, Tunan’s “betrayal” may only be a slight divergence from his previously established character but it’s still egregious enough to annoy me. Especially when they coulda so easily fixed it by having him not allow that police captain to arrest Ruolai but have them do it anyway. Heck if anything, that woulda served their purpose of making the non-communist side look evil even more, and without making Tunan’s character be a dick for no discernible reason. Literally, Ruolai has given him no reason to earn his distrust, even including the fact that he hid the robbery from him.

I def have no complaints when it comes to Ruolai’s character... he’s been way too humble and self-sacrificing from the very beginning and especially when it comes to his xiansheng. He repeatedly said that he’s willing to die for him and with this, he basically got to prove it. His last words to Tunan at the end of the episode sounded like a goodbye even which was... painful. As unjustified as this was, I’m kinda relieved we got it behind us now, tho. I’m sure there’s still a lot of angst ahead but at least the worst is past. And even better, given the previews for tomorrow’s episodes, Tunan seems to be willing to risk it all to get his boy out of prison. And when he comes back, he’ll get ganged up on by all the workers at the bank cuz they want him to leave but we’ve already seen what happens in that scene in the trailers; Tunan will ask Ruolai to be his student. In a way, he’ll maybe hopefully finally get his loyalty and devotion to that man somewhat reciprocated/rewarded.

[ladydaybreaker]

So...about that new MD Episode...

Totally me not figuring out how to use this freaking site, ha...

Yes, hello! First time ACTUALLY legit posting on this thing. So! For people following the Ad Astra, Per Aspera series...how 'bout that new episode huh?

I know that you guys are thinking that imma have to redo "Memento Nori" and possibly "To Stay In Heaven, For Fear of Your Creation" and "To Serve In Heaven, Or Rule In Hell" because of things that came to light...and here's my official answer.

HELL NO.

I did nearly 50 chapters of work based on stuff that I inferred from watching the previous episodes, had that near six month waiting period to stew and simmer over what possibly happened. And...I don't want to redo it. I'm proud of all three of them (even if "Memento Nori" is getting some slight tweaks to make it fit better with the later installments...it's nothing MAJOR).

I'm currently working on "What Friends Are For" chapter 34 (which is also undergoing some slight tweaks) and, with the help of my awesome friends, we've come up with some fun reasons for why things in ep 7 happened without breaking what happened in the prior ones.

ESPECIALLY regarding Tessa and our new cast member.

I will admit, I am going slightly canon divergent with things because I've had things mapped out for "A Universe of Suns, Moons, and Stars" that I really want to keep. This includes a character that might not be there for episode 8 judging by what we've seen. So, I'm taking their advice and "Fighting back".

I know I've been kinda lauded, undeservedly to be honest, about doing a good canon+ series. Unfortunately with the story I want to tell...it might not be what happens. After all...I was wrong about the Disassemblers' origins haha.

However, this does not apply for "Cross the Jaded Stars". That one I will be following Canon (for the most part. I'm spicing things up for that one. Hey, gotta make my swap unique, y'know!)

That being said, thank you all for sticking with me, if I lose you because I'm not rewriting near 50 chapters to better fit with what happened in canon, I'm sorry. But...I'm proud of Ad Astra as a series. It's my child of paper and printers ink...and I want to raise it to be the best it can. Even if that means classifying it as a "Fix-it" series at the end.

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Elriel Rating: E Tags: Canon Divergence - ACOMAF, Accidental Courtship, Secret Marriage, Human/Fae Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending Word Count: 4k Summary: After learning of her younger sister's fate Under the Mountain, Elain Archeron struggled to envision her future as the lady of the Nolan estate. Sometimes, when she woke in the night and the iron band of her engagement ring was cold as ice on her finger, she knew only dread. She had no such trouble with the fearsome Fae male who made a habit of checking on her every day. It might have been some trick, a faerie enchantment or thrall, but falling in love with him was the easiest thing she ever did.

Part six of my @acotargiftexchange present for @ultadverb. Cover art by @krem-does-stuff, commissioned by @ultadverb.

Read this fic on AO3!

A voice as dark as midnight cut through the thick air.

“Elain?” 

From her place hidden beneath her covers, Elain shook her head.

“Elain,” Azriel said again. Quiet, deliberate footsteps crossed her bedroom, and she knew he was intentionally dragging his feet along the carpet, letting her track every inch that brought him closer to her. “I thought you were supposed to be at a party tonight.”

Elain squeezed her eyes shut beneath the covers.

His leathers creaked, and then he asked in a low murmur, “What happened?”

She drew her knees up to her chest, feeling small and pathetic. She shook her head again.

Azriel pushed out a slow, audible breath.

Elain dragged the edge of the coverlet down so she could peek out at him. Depthless hazel eyes peered back from a scant foot away, where Azriel knelt in a knot of shadows at her bedside.

“Are you ill?” He reached out, brushing a thumb over her cheek before he pressed the inside of his wrist to her forehead. 

Elain squeezed her eyes shut again, leaning her head into the warm, grounding feeling of his skin on hers. “It’s loud.”

“Does your head hurt?”

She managed to whisper a soft, “No,” and opened one eye in time to watch Azriel look her over again. Though she was securely cocooned in her nest of blankets, she felt that gaze assessing the darkness beneath them, felt him conversing with the shadows.

"You're quiet," she told him when his eyes finally met hers.

His expression softened—just a slight relaxation of his brow, the fine lines of worry that were etched into the bridge of his nose disappearing. He started to remove his wrist from her forehead, but Elain caught his hand before he could fully retreat. She pressed her finger to a familiar callus at the base of his thumb, focusing all of her attention on that small spot.

"I've had a lot of practice being quiet," he said, his voice low and soothing as always.

“You’re good at it.”

Azriel dipped his head. “And everything else… is loud today?”

Elain took another deep breath as she nodded and tried to chain her roiling stomach. “Yes.”

“Can you tell me how?” 

His brow furrowed when she shook her head a third time.

“Okay. Do you know why?”

Shame scorched through her, and she pulled her coverlet closer. She felt more than saw Azriel mark the shuffling movement as she tucked her chin and mouth—and his hand—beneath the blankets.

“It just happens,” she whispered into thick layers of cotton and wool batting. “Everything gets loud, and I can see too much, and it hurts.”

She blinked slowly, soaking in the blackness behind her eyelids before looking back at Azriel.

He was silent for a long second, and then he said, “I see. And does anything in particular trigger these incidents?”

“Stress,” she mumbled, freshly ashamed of the relief that filled her when he simply nodded, taking a moment to let that information roll over in his mind, and didn’t press too much. 

These episodes happened all too often; Elain would wake, and her bones would feel heavy, her head stuffed with cotton. When she opened her eyes, the world around her would be eye-searing, the colors so vibrant that her vision seemed to tremble and shake apart at the periphery. Even in the dimmest and plainest of rooms, even in their drab bedroom in the cottage, the yellowish-white of the linens had pierced her eyes, the brown floorboards skewing and warping into something else—something other —until Elain had no choice but to squeeze her eyes shut and pray for sleep. 

If Feyre or Nesta moved too quickly or trod too heavily over the floorboards, Elain’s ears would revolt, too, pounding that noise through her skull like a war hammer. The tap of Father’s cane and the schik-schik-schik of his whittling blade had often turned torturous until Nesta’s snapping voice brought a halt to it. She could swear the reverberations of those sounds zagged down her spine, into her gut, until the gnawing pain of hunger was replaced by nausea so strong that her mouth went sour with it. 

Even now, in their fine manor, the hush of Nesta’s skirts and the slip of her stocking feet over the polished tile aggravated Elain’s too-fine senses.

Stress had always been Nesta’s best guess at a catalyst whenever Elain had these episodes, and Nesta— Elain’s stomach broke free, flipping and twisting in her gut.

Azriel’s hand flexed in hers like he felt it too. "What is it? What stressed you out?"

“Nesta.” She pushed out her sister’s name on a breath.

“What about Nesta?” Azriel asked. Elain took one deep breath, then another as her head swam and her lungs screamed for oxygen, until he bowed his head, reentering her line of sight. He was a welcome blot of darkness against the too-bright room. “What about Nesta, love?”

“She knows.”

The shadows coiling in the air slowed and then cut a graceful path toward her door. 

“About what?” Azriel’s face was once again unreadable. 

“Us.”

There. A muscle in his jaw feathered, and Elain slid her free hand out from beneath the coverlet to touch it. 

“She told you she knows?” Though his voice was still quiet, still calm, it had gained a sharper edge, one so slight that Elain guessed few might pick up on it until it had already cut into them.

But she couldn’t blame him for that sharpness. She knew it wouldn't be wielded against her. 

Not against her, but for her.

A month had passed since their first kiss, and the delicate, budding thing between them had bloomed into something beautiful. Or perhaps it was something fierce, with built-in defenses—thorns and poisons and strangling vines that made it treacherous to anyone who threatened it. Indeed, it was a threat to anyone but those who knew it best, those who admired its strange beauty and tenderly, gently nurtured it to life. 

Slowly, afternoon teas were pushed later and later into the evening until Azriel was stealing her away every evening for their midnight rendezvous. She had already been kept up every night by dreams of him anyway—his wings curving around her and shielding her from the world, a brutally scarred hand holding hers with such gentleness, his soft cheek beneath her lips and the almost shy smile she received in return, and the feral, faerie grins he would give only when she was rendered breathless and quaking by his touch. It was only natural to give over those hours to him in the waking world, instead.

She was never alone for long once night fell. Azriel made sure of it. Every night, she excused herself to her room after dinner, but did not dress for bed. Every night, Azriel stepped out of darkness and into the shadows beside her dressing table, just as he had the day he’d drawn up the map of their estate for the queens. 

Elain always welcomed him with her sturdiest boots in her hands, and he would always wrap one strong arm around her middle to whisk her away somewhere new. 

The niggling, childhood fear that still lurked in the back of her mind hadn’t come to fruition; he hadn’t dragged her back to Prythian and kept her enslaved to his will. She hadn’t wasted away after that first intoxicating taste of faerie food at the flower festival, desperate and willing to sell her soul for one more morsel—though she was tempted to offer it to Azriel every time he tasted her.

No, they hadn’t set foot in Prythian again, but she had worn the long, blue priestess robes to conceal her mortal features almost every night.

In Montesere, they wandered the abandoned, late-night streets of a village drowning in wisteria and sat in the shadows hiding a rocky ledge to trade kisses for tales of old lovers and friends. In the lush valleys in Rask, Azriel had led her through the shallows of a small creek full of algae that glowed luminescent green under the full moon. Beneath the ancient pyramids soaring high into the sky on the human half of the continent, he’d shrouded them both in cooling darkness as she traced the carvings of long-extinct desert flowers with her fingertips, and they had talked about dark cells and cold cottages and then falling stars and tulip bulbs.

And almost every night, Azriel found some dark corner of the world where he could bunch the robes around her waist and keep his hand or his head between her thighs until she screamed. He drank from her with the fervor of a starved male; the first time he’d swept his tongue up the center of her, he had groaned, and his eyes had fluttered shut for only a moment before they were fixed on her face again. Sometimes she would feel the hard, pulsing length of him pressed to her hip, her thigh, her stomach. Sometimes he ground himself against her when she was astride him, succumbing to instinct with a drag of his teeth over her neck before refocusing his efforts on her.

But not once did he demand she return the favor. She had tried once while she was still weak and trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm after orgasm that he’d ripped from her, when a little voice in the back of her mind that sounded far too much like her Graysen’s stoked such guilt that she felt obligated to help him find his release.

He’d pinned her hand beside her head with such a dark look that, for a moment, she wondered if he were the mind reader instead of his High Lord. One way or another, he knew what she was thinking. 

“This isn’t about me,” he’d growled into her ear. The dark rumble of his voice sent shivers down her spine, and it was clear that the next orgasm he pulled from her that night—world-shaking in its intensity—with single-minded focus was meant to set her straight.

So Elain found that she did not mind the late hour at all; not when he winnowed her back to her bedroom every night, sated and sleepy. He would lay her in bed, stroking the backs of his fingers over her cheek, before wishing her sweet dreams in the earliest hours of the morning. 

But no matter where they went, Nynsar still held a place of honor in her heart just beside the morning in the tulip fields. He had been unhurried, wringing pleasure from her again and again that night, and then held her for hours as she clung to him. When the cold finally penetrated the small, blue shield he threw up around them to capture their warmth, he’d carried her through the shadows to her bed for the first time. She tried to convince him to stay, but he’d traced the mark he left on her throat—which she barely managed to hide under her powder the next morning—with a rueful smile. 

At the time, she thought the way her world spun at the sight of him and the dull ache that squeezed at her chest when he disappeared into the shadows must have been the effects of the faerie food and the endless, eternal craving for Prythian that would define the rest of her mortal life.

She had been wrong.

The only thing she craved was him.

The steady, solid comfort of him. Comfort and calm and peace that she could not remember finding anywhere else, or with anyone else.

When she was bathing and she ran across love bites hidden on her thighs, she wanted to be wading in the shallow tide pools in the northernmost corner of the Summer Court with Azriel. When she was jotting down lists for the market, and she remembered the infuriating way he sometimes paused in the middle of tea to pull a pen and some paper out of a shadow and scrawl a quick note, she wished she was with him. When she dined with Graysen and he served her dessert without stealing a smirking, surreptitious bite to check for poisons, she missed Azriel. 

It should have given her pause, comparing Azriel and Graysen and always finding the latter lacking, but it didn't.

And now… Nesta knew.

“She didn’t say it in so many words,” Elain whispered, drawing the coverlet back over her head as the colors in her dim room seemed to flare back to life. “But I know she knows. I just know it. I missed breakfast today, and the look she gave me when she sat down for lunch…”

For the first time in her life, Nesta’s glare had chilled Elain to her core. It had been the same look Nesta once leveled at their father, the one that communicated one word and one word only:

Traitor. 

The sight of it had lodged itself into Elain’s brain like a parasite, its vicious teeth hooked into the delicate matter there and sucking away at any happy thoughts she might have had. 

Nesta had been halfway through buttering a roll when she paused and said with such poisonous sweetness that Elain’s teeth ached, “You know, you don’t have to sneak out to see your fiancé. I hired Zakary because he knows how to be discreet.”

Then her ladylike smile had morphed into something sharklike and furious, and Elain just knew that Nesta knew she wasn’t in bed last night. One look, and she knew that she had humiliated her sister by making her rouse the stablehands to ask where she was. Worse, she had frightened Nesta, perhaps in a way Nesta would never admit to, by disappearing into the night without any warning.

Worst of all, Nesta knew Elain would never make it to Graysen’s estate and back on foot in just one night. Not with all the miles between them and the layers of walls and guards she would have had to trek through afterward.

It had taken all of her strength to force a blush to her cheeks and murmur an agreeable, ashamed, “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” that made the fire in Nesta’s incendiary glare flare even brighter before fleeing.

One of Azriel’s fingers twitched. “Elain, does she know—”

“It doesn’t matter. She won’t say anything. She doesn’t like Graysen, anyway,” she said, the words tumbling out. Like saying it aloud drew a veil back from behind her eyes, she knew it was true the moment it left her mouth. “She doesn’t like that Father likes him.”

Azriel’s fingers slid between hers, holding tightly, insistently. She could feel the question in that touch, but he didn't ask it.

“Your High Lord doesn’t even trust me with Feyre because I’m engaged to him.”

Azriel was quiet for another long moment, weighing his words as he often did, but as always, he indulged her. “They are mates. He feels strongly about anything that might cause her harm.”

“Mates.” The dull roar behind Elain’s eyes that had quieted to a murmur rose in volume again, and she pushed her free hand against one of her ears. The pinpricks of light filtering through her blankets were blotted out, and then a cool, mistlike coil covered the other ear. She sighed in relief.

Mates. She could glean what it meant from the careful, lovestruck way Rhysand orbited Feyre and the reverence with which Azriel spoke the word… But, still, it was too strange a concept to apply to her little sister, too animalistic even for reckless, wild Feyre. 

“What does that mean for her?”

“It's like marriage, in some ways. Much, much rarer,” he said, his thumb taking up a tentative path over the back of her palm. “Marriage is a chosen bond, but a mating bond is... predetermined."

Elain tucked her knees tighter to her chest in an attempt to squish down the nausea and dread building in her stomach. “So she has no choice.”

She could have heard a pin drop, and then Azriel said,

"Mates can still choose whether to accept the bond or not, but whatever decides to pair two people—the Cauldron, the fates, some unknown magic…" Azriel drew their joined hands out from beneath the blankets, and the cool air that kissed her skin was a welcome distraction from the feverish pounding her mind took up. "Rhys was… not content, but willing to let Feyre marry Tamlin if that’s what made her happy. But she joined our court and started working with us instead, and they have grown closer in the meantime. I was going to tell you when I saw you tomorrow: Rhys sent word this afternoon that Feyre accepted the bond.”

Every word settled in Elain like boulders being piled atop her, pressing her down and compressing her ribs until they groaned with the strain. 

Feyre, the youngest and most reckless of her sisters, married— mated —at just twenty to the male who had saved her from the relationship she didn’t want by abducting her at the altar not even five months ago.

The roar was suddenly deafening.

But there was nothing to be done for it, so she lifted her chin, flipped back the corner of her coverlet, and patted the mattress. Azriel sat back on his haunches, one perfectly arched brow rising in question, and Elain felt a frown pull the corners of her mouth down.

“Get in.”

Azriel, to his credit, didn’t even look at the sheer white cotton of her nightgown; though he had seen and touched most of her, he hadn’t seen her wholly bare. He simply rose to his feet, smoothly unlacing and stepping out of his boots before he tapped the cobalt Siphons on the backs of his hands. His leathers retracted, leaving him in a soft black tunic and thin pants that made Elain blush when she looked too long.

It took some deft, impressive shuffling to get him settled in her low, short bed, but when he was finally under her frilly coverlet, one massive wing rose, tenting the covers and nudging her closer until she was snug in his arms. The thin membrane beneath the taloned tip poking out from the covers was rendered almost iridescent by the low light in her room, blocking out all but the soothing, burnt orange glow that left her sighing with relief. Elain buried her face in Azriel’s neck, and the wing remained in place, guarding and warming her.

She knew he was waiting for some sort of response, but she asked instead, “The queens are coming back next week. What are you planning on showing them?”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, firm as steel.

"Well?" she whispered into his collar when the roar once again grew too loud to bear. 

Static shivered over her body, causing her hair to stand on end, and the coppery taste of his magic filled her mouth. Elain knew without looking that if she did open her eyes, they would be surrounded by the thin blue shield she had grown so accustomed to on their journeys.

“Velaris,” he whispered in her ear.

Another foreign name that rolled off his tongue, exotic and sharp and soft all at once. “What’s that?”

“The City of Starlight,” he murmured in a register so deep she could barely hear it. "Home to nearly a million people, kept safe for five thousand years by being hidden from the world outside our borders. Until now, no one but the residents of the Night Court were permitted—or able—to know of its existence. That was a spell written into the very wards around the city. Rhys even wiped it from the minds of all those outside the city limits when Amarantha’s forces invaded Prythian.” 

“And you’re telling me?” Something like panic beat against Elain’s breast, but the bone-deep exhaustion from a long day of experiencing it in varying degrees softened the blow.

“Mhm. You’ll learn about it at the meeting next week anyway,” he said. Though the words were cavalier, his tone was soft and serious as death. “The art and theater districts, the markets so large they’re called palaces and have their own governors. Feyre’s new home. A river that runs through the city called the Sidra, which means night sky in the old tongue, because on a clear night the surface is so smooth that it reflects all the stars in the sky above.”

Oh.

“Would you like to go?" 

Oh. 

A gentle tug to one of her curls alerted her that he was playing with the ends of her hair, stroking them as he drew gentle lines up and down her spine. “You would be the first human in a thousand years to set foot in the city.”

Elain’s jaw dropped, the lights flaring again, though whether it was at the nerve of him or the way he’d already read her longing to see his secret city, she didn’t know. “I do, but Azriel—”

The room went dark, and the heart-pounding rush of traveling through the shadows consumed her. Rather than emerging on a city street, however, the sheets simply… softened. A heartbeat passed in the darkness, and then the mattress beneath Elain’s hip was firmer, the pillow beneath her head more plush, and the deep scent of cedar  and mist that she associated with Azriel surrounded her so fully that her head spun.

But when Elain opened her eyes, the dark remained.

“Welcome to Velaris.” Azriel’s lips ghosted over her cheek on their path to her ear. “Can you see too much in here?”

“I…” Halfheartedly, she thumped his firm chest, which rumbled with a quick, silent laugh. “No.”

He hummed a single low, pleased note.

“This is Velaris?”

“This is my bedroom in Velaris.” There was a firm press of lips to her forehead, and then he was guiding her head back to his shoulder as he relaxed beneath her again. “You’re going to sleep here tonight, where I can control my shadows without the wall’s interference, and then tomorrow I’ll show you the city.”

”Wicked,” she hissed, but there was no heat to it. 

She received only a squeeze and another silent laugh in response.

Several long minutes passed in soothing dark, and Elain might have thought Azriel had fallen asleep from his deep, steady breathing if it weren’t for the featherlight fingertips stroking her back.

She buried her face in his neck.

The shadows were a small act of mercy on Azriel’s part, but with the silence pressing in, Elain couldn't grant herself the same grace. Not when his heartbeat was the steady rhythm lulling her to sleep. In this city, where her sister had escaped her own marriage and fallen in love.

Perhaps this far from Graysen, distance truly did grant clarity, and the words came easier.

“I did love him.”

Another breath warmed her scalp, shifting her hair. “I know.”

Elain curled her fingers in the collar of his shirt, pressing the tips of them to the pulse beating hard and fast at the base of his throat.

“I love you.”

His breaths stopped.

Elain tried to squirm, but the arm around her waist was too tight and the wing curled around her too delicate to risk jostling too much. Suddenly, all she was all too aware that the male holding her was centuries old and possessed a well of patience so deep that it infuriated and awed her in turn—and that she was a foolish, twenty-three year old girl who had started to dread all of the frivolous dress fittings and cake tastings she was meant to attend with such ferocity that she had pretended to have a migraine for a week to avoid them all last month.

“Is that ridiculous?”

The arm around her waist let go, and Elain’s nerves tumbled until that hand found her face instead, cupping her jaw and tilting her face up toward the shadowsinger she could see perfectly in the dark.

“No.”

“Azriel’s got no shortage of lovers, though, don’t worry. He’s better at keeping them secret than we are, but … he has them.” — ACOMAF, Chapter 52 “I lingered by the threshold, gazing at the food—all that hot, glorious food—that I couldn’t eat. That was the first rule we were taught as children, usually in songs or chants: If misfortune forced you to keep company with a faerie, you never drank their wine, never ate their food. Ever. Unless you wanted to wind up enslaved to them in mind and soul—unless you wanted to wind up dragged back to Prythian.” — ACOTAR, Chapter 6

[asterin-kelles]

In the Cold Light of the Morning - Chapter One

Something that I've been working on off and on for the past fews years that I think I've finally got a handle on. Going back to my roots with this one.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coarse Language, Romance, Comedy, Perhaps a smidgeon of Angst, Accidental Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Public Drunkenness, Disordered Eating, Eating Disorder Habits, Disassociation Tactics, Minor Depressive Episodes, Poor Coping Mechanisms, Sex out of doors, Magical Heritages, Womb Markings, Pureblood Society, Pureblood Specific Traditions, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Auror Harry Potter, Harry likes to bake in this one, Wizengamot Councillor Draco Malfoy, Draco never went to Azkaban, Harry and Draco feel their feelings Summary: Cracking his eyes open, he stared around the room. It was covered in pinks and purples so loud they made Draco’s head hurt even more just by looking at them. Sitting up gingerly, he let the awful colored sheets pool around his waist. There was a slight moment to his right, and he was suddenly hyper-aware that there was another individual sleeping in the bed with him. That there was another individual who was just as naked as he was, if the bare back staring back at him was any indication. He smirked to himself. Oddly proud of his shameful behavior. Even blitzed out of his mind he still managed to coax someone into his—well, most certainly not his own by this hideous color scheme—bed. The figure groaned slightly and rolled towards him. He sucked in a deep breath as he laid eyes upon just who he’d been sharing his bed with.

“Fuck…” Draco breathed. Read it here.

[muninnhuginn]

Thought I'd speculate about the Lu Guang possession scenario before next episode discards this all entirely. Looked at the standard dive protocol and how that maps onto what we know of the current situation. See below cut:

Standard procedure for a dive:

First go around takes place. This then lays the groundwork that CXS has to follow.

CXS possesses the person who took the photo (or in case of CCTV is inserted into the scenario as himself)

CXS then has to ensure that the timeline continues as in the original timeline. This isn't as straightforward as "everything has to be done identically" because minor changes can actually take place without breaking continuity. This is best demonstrated in the earthquake arc wherein CXS is able to deliver Chen Xiao's words to his friends/mother without it altering the node. This worked because the main node was the earthquake and so unless Chen Xiao had been able to entirely remove the others from the scenario there was little to be done that could save them. The way that timelines work in Link Click appears to show that timelines do have some give in them. Minor deviations are tolerated so long as the nodes aren't changed. The most important nodes we encounter in the series are death nodes (Emma being the obvious one, though it's unclear if her node always led to her death or if CXS's actions caused her death) though it seems as though they're not limited to that. Doudou's kidnapping, for instance, was also a node, which was why CXS had to let him be kidnapped and let the time pass until the present.

What makes an event a node is unclear, though I speculate that it's simpler than it seems in that it is "any event that would change the past such that the dive in the present would no longer be able to take place". In other words, if a node is changed, a paradox will occur as the initiating event is lost. This would explain the Doudou node and also fit with how Chen Xiao was able to get married and have a child in the new timeline (as implied by the ring he only has after the dive). So long as his mother died and the camera survived, CX would always be given the camera by his father once his father refound it and this was the triggering event for the dive.

(It's very broadstroke, of course, because if the task was to deliver the words and it was successful then Chen Xiao would no longer think he needed to deliver the words and so would no longer ask. You could argue it's a stable loop and CX just blocked out saying the words initially because of the trauma but in that case why the ring and child after the dive and not before? That implies something has changed, and we know it's not the node. So yeah. We're going broadstrokes with this and setting the rule as what makes sense within the series rather than following the implications of the writing through to the end conclusion.)

With all this in mind, if a node can't be changed because it would cause a paradox; if a dive is always CXS following the original path and he can diverge in minor ways but not stray entirely. Well, by that logic, the original path had to have been laid down by Lu Guang.

Others have already pointed out the kettle, but we know that in the first loop, the window was smashed by something else as the kettle is still visible in the room. In CXS's current dive however, he used the kettle to smash the window. And here's the part where I diverge from most people's speculation: I don't think using the kettle to smash the window necessarily alters the timeline. I think the timeline has enough leeway in it that CXS can still muddle his way through if he follows the rest of Lu Guang's path.

(Actually, tbh it's possible we're following CXS on his nth time around because so long as he doesn't have LG's guidance he never knows what was used to smash the window and so could pick a different item each time. We saw how he hesitated over picking an item so depending on the slight alterations of the previous loop he could easily pick a different one each time so long as it doesn't alter the node. The important thing is that LG did the initial loop and this is CXS in a following loop. I don't think the series itself will really care too much about saying this is xy number loop and will just keep it as "this is CXS's dive" because that's what it's done literally every other time).

If there is to be a divergence point, I believe it would be at the boat as at this point CXS wants to save LG and it seems odd with what we know of his characterisation that he would deliberately give Lu Guang up. I do think he will just because what Lu Guang said to Li Tianchen was censored from the viewers and so we'll almost certainly get to hear what he says this time around, but as for his motivation in handing Lu Guang over, I honestly don't know at this stage. It may simply be that he's constrained by not wanting to alter the nodes? Which would be character development for him tbh. CXS did well with altering Chen Bin's past without altering the node of his death, but as Lu Guang is much closer to him it really is a test of his character.

[onekisstotakewithme]

Tell me all about your current WIPs? (Because it’s always cool to hear about)

Thank you, Lil! Unsurprising, I have many.. across several fandoms, in varying levels of completion because I've been dealing with crap fatigue lately (grad school. ugh.)

But since this is about active ones, I shan't discuss President!CJ (someday...) or the Requiem Smuttitude (TM).

So! All Aboard the Active WIP Train! I will answer any questions, share snippets, whatever if anyone is interested.

Close to the Heart, aka my M*A*S*H noir subversion ✨ It's an AU of the 1950s where neither Hawkeye nor BJ ends up in Korea. Essentially, Peg walks into Hawkeye's office one day and asks him to kill her husband via a botched heart surgery. Only there's more to her request, and more to her husband, than meets the eye... (I have posted 7 chapters, I am partway through writing 8).

tww post-canon wedding fic A (slight) AU that diverges from Institutional Memory, where CJ decides to try and make it work with Danny while still working in the White House. They eventually amicably break up, which would be fine... except they have to see each other again at Charlie and Zoey's wedding a few months later. It alternates between CJ and Danny. I've written the prologue + one chapter, am partway through chapter two.

clandestine A M*A*S*H story I just started like. yesterday, in which BJ rescues Hawk from an unsavoury situation, and learns a few things about himself in the process.

sports night ten wickets tag This one is Blorbo Snippets from my Phone. As in, I have snippets of an episode coda for "Ten Wickets" for a Dan/Casey fic. Will I ever write it? Remains to be seen.

That's all the major ones right now. There's a bunch more that are inactive, including:

President!CJ (TWW)

"requiem" first time fic (TWW)

plane crash (TWW)

sperm donor (TWW)

ski au (M*A*S*H)

triad wedding (M*A*S*H)