#anyway I am just nattering on over here

[monstersandmaw]

I am unreasonably excited for this stardew fic im hearing about 👀 (also seb, my love- i always end up romancing him)

Thank you! In all my playthroughs (maybe five before this one, lol) I've never romanced anyone. This one (which inspired this story) I decided to romance and marry Seb :).

The story is gonna feature a lot of the game and setting as inspiration, but I'm going to edit the mechanics a bit so it's less contrived, and there are gonna be more supernatural elements and folks at play... :). And an affectionate, fwb situation with Elliott before the end-game Sebastian romance, just a heads up.

Since you were kind enough to reach out about it, here's a 1400 word WIP sneak peek of Rowan, my gruff, buff werewoof farmer:

(CW: standoffish, loner character with scars on his neck from a werewolf bite, passing mention of a werewolf attack at night that nearly killed him)

This run-down, wild farm, with its endless tangle of fairytale brambles arcing around the roots of maple and oak trees, and its overgrown ponds full of frogs and flowering water weeds, was beyond perfect.

Of course, Rowan knew next to nothing about organic vegetable farming, but that was a problem for another day.

Mayor Lewis dithered on the top step a moment longer before taking his leave with Robin and heading back up the rutted path towards the town. Apparently Rowan had been taciturn enough to drive the chatty old man away, and something about him had evidently unnerved Robin a little. Maybe it was the mess of scars on his throat. He didn’t much care. If it meant they left him alone, so much the better. He wasn’t sure that anyone but Robin in her off-road pickup could make it comfortably along the winding drive to the farm anyway, and it was a miracle that the old man hadn’t toppled into a pothole or a ditch on his way over.

Rowan watched them leave together, deliberately ignoring their nattering gossip about him, which carried easily enough on the spring air to his sharp ears, and he felt something new prickle down his spine. It wasn’t even close to the full moon — he’d made damned sure of that before booking his one-way ticket to the sleepy little valley — but something about this place set the wolf in him prowling. He realised with a jolt that his wolf liked this new territory, with its fresh air and cacophonous birdsong. Where he’d been fractious and aggressive in the city, prone to lashing out when he felt the least bit cornered or trapped, now his wolf was practically bounding on the spot to explore his new territory and claim it as his own, and Rowan recoiled from the idea.

“I am not an animal,” he snarled at himself.

He thought that after bearing the curse for a year, he should have been far more accustomed to the feeling of there being a whole new part of himself inside his own head, or in his heart. And yet, noticing that the way he was feeling was largely because of the wolf, and not his human side, still freaked him the fuck out.

He turned back to the front door of the tumbledown cabin where his grandfather had lived until he’d had to go into care five years earlier, and immediately put his boot through the rotten boards of the veranda with a curse and another snarl. A small family of mice skittered away beneath the house, their pungent smell rising through the new hole to his sensitive nose, and he sighed. “Still not alone, even out here.”

Although the moon was only halfway to full, and against his better judgement, Rowan did let the shift sweep over him a few nights later, and as he sloughed off the complex trappings of his human life and sank his claws delightfully into the velvet-soft dirt, he patrolled the perimeter of the farm where his human self had spent his first week in Stardew Valley clearing weeds and setting up his first organic vegetable beds.

His wolf didn’t think about the uppity shopkeeper in the general store or the awkward blacksmith who’d smelled of a nauseous cocktail of discomfort, anxiety and axle grease, or the harried-looking man in a tweed jacket who’d smelled of coffee and antiseptic. His wolf lowered its head to the ground and inhaled the scents of rabbit and squirrel. It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or saddened to find no trace of wolves — shifter or otherwise — in the area, but seemed to settle for relieved as he slunk like a deeper shred of shadow from the porch of the farmhouse and bounded off into the dark to explore the place with the new, golden eyes of a wolf in place of the slightly blurry, hazel eyes of a human.

A rockfall in the cliffs behind the wreckage of the greenhouse had exposed a damp cave some years ago, though it smelled of bat guano and little else to interest a wolf. He let it be. Trotting eagerly on, the wolf relished the decadent flex and stretch of its powerful muscles, and the bliss of being able to shift whenever the fancy took him was enough to make him tilt his head to the sky and howl his ecstasy at the silent stars.

Rowan knew that being bitten and turned, and dumped unknowingly into the secret world of the supernatural, had taken its toll on him.

His sanity had been right on the ragged edge when he’d come across that forgotten letter from his grandfather in a desk drawer. After a year of trying to hold the remnants of his miserable life in the city together, of slinking down into an old storm drain on the edge of an abandoned industrial estate every full moon, to cage and contain his frustrated, furious wolf, Rowan had known he had to get out of the city. Permanently. It was messing with his wolf and he was losing more of his awareness to it with each passing full moon. He’d also started zoning out at his desk at work and coming-to with claws out and the wolf prowling right beneath his yellow-eyed facade of calm, even halfway through the cycle. The constant clacking of keyboards, the shrill, metallic ringing of office telephones, and the stink of leftover lunches from the cubicle next door to his was going to make him snap. Violently.

Part problem and part gift, his wolf existed purely in the ‘now’. There was no painful past; no human lying abandoned and bleeding and irrevocably changed on the rain-soaked tarmac of a grotty bus station; no human who’d drifted out of touch with his one surviving family member; no bills overdue and no landlord to keep happy. There was only the scent of moss and emerging spring grass and last year’s fallen pine cones, and the echo of a fox’s passing trail across the land which was now his territory.

Rowan’s wolf followed its nose down to the lower pond and lapped luxuriantly at the rich, cool water. His ears drew back and another thrill of delight ran down the length of his body as the sweet, wholesome taste of the water exploded across his tongue; he could detect none of the pollution and chemicals of the city water, just fresh spring that bubbled up from the depths of the earth, carrying with it the minerals and magic of the place.

Yes, this place had magic in abundance.

His grandfather had married a witch, so magic had been in Rowan’s blood already before he’d been mutilated by a lone werewolf at three in the morning in a filthy, city bus station. Perhaps that had been why a bite that messy had taken when it would have killed most people. He prayed he never met his monstrous sire, because he knew he’d rip his fucking head off for ruining his life and turning him into a slathering, near-mindless monster once a month. It was probably only by sheer, dumb luck that he hadn’t been killed by hunters, or killed someone himself by accident, and it had only been by the grace and patience of a blue-haired witch named Mercury that he’d even known what was happening to him in the first place. He shuddered to think where he’d have been without her.

A figure moved in the darkness at the edge of the trees on the southern-most reaches of his property and his lips drew back into a snarl.

“Easy, Rowan,” came a resonant, bass voice, and he froze, tilting his head, ears pricked. He recognised that voice, but couldn’t place it. For answer, he just growled a warning. “Easy,” came the voice a second time. “Rowan MacTavish, I am not here to hurt you. It is I, Rasmodius.”

At the sound of his full name on the still night air, Rowan’s whole body shivered, but the wolf let go of his mind a little. Thought came to him just a little easier. Rasmodius. That was the name of the wizard in the tower. Rowan blinked his golden eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“May I approach?”

He whined and ended the sound in a soft sneeze. Close enough to a petulant ‘fine’, he supposed.

___

(more soon, hopefully, if there's interest :3)

[glitchtricks94]

Ache

Gyokko x Reader

I feel like crying, so I made him cry too. This is an angst post, hurt/no comfort I am wanting to make him bleed right now and since I can't sort my other fic, this is how we're doing it. Yes, I know I'm just having a bad day but if I'm gonna be sad, I might as well put it to use! Anyways, kick back, relax and enjoy the pain~ -Glitchtricks

He didn't think the ache would be this strong.

He never thought that humans could hold so tightly to a feeling, he thought them to be as fleeting as the clouds in the sky on a warm summer's night. Never once did he expect to miss you so dearly. Gyokko sat at the foot of the lake he found all those nights ago, strange, honeyed eyes staring at the water’s glasslike surface, sorrow washing over him as he looked on. Where he would normally be thinking of ways to cloud the liquid in a myriad of colors, his mind only focused on  the being that had enchanted him so many moons ago, how he had found them on their knees simply gathering water for their own needs. The Upper Moon remembers how wide you smiled at him, kindness blinding you. He remembered how excited you were to simply meet a demon like him, explaining how his kind fascinated you. You were unusual, but not quite unappealing.  He liked that. Your warmth stuck to his mind so annoyingly well, like an ink stain that cannot be removed. Gyokko didn’t think he’d long for it after you were gone. He recalls how for ages, each night, you’d be here, waiting, even calling out for a demon to approach you. Strange, but he supposed your tactics worked as less then a moment later, the Upper Moon Five found himself before you again, a delighted squeal leaving your lips. Gyokko was at a loss when you threw your arms around him, cheering about him coming back to you. He swiftly moved out of your arms, glaring at you. “Don’t touch me like that!” He spat. If only he knew how much he’d miss that familiarity.

Gyokko shook his head when he realized that tears were dripping down his chin, spattering on the vase that held his usual form. No, no he can’t think of you, he can’t lose himself like this, not over a human. He was a being of divinity, of talent and breathtaking skill, a being that…felt empty. So very empty since he saw you last. He clenched his fists, trying to shove away the pain, the agony in favor of rage, resentment. No, he can’t mourn you, you and him were far too different! So why did the bittersweet memory of you guiding him to your home come to mind? That affectionate smile of your beaming at him the entire way as you nattered on about your own life, your own form of art that took shape in the words you scribbled down in empty books and scraps of paper was all he could see, all he could hear. He couldn’t forget that, especially not the joy that you exuded from just showing him the meager poems you wrote. He didn’t know when he had shown up at your abandoned home, looking up at the sad structure from his pot. He knew you weren’t inside, so why did he cruelly hope you’d come out, greet him like you always did? He’d always found himself drawn to your presence after you began discussing a hopeful romantic novel of star crossed lovers, your inspirations being the Shakespearian tragedy of Romeo and Juilet. You had many inspiring ideas, ones Gyokko would take back to his own sanctuary to create his own art from. The way your eyes lit up when he first presented a vase to you, painted with the silhouettes of the lovers from your story was etched into his demonic heart. You were practically screaming with utter delight at the gift, being the most enthusiastic person to ever accept such a thing from him. Not even the ever so carefree Douma had ever come close to emulating such joy, however, yours could never be emulated, you were far too genuine for such a thing. Your scent still clung to each corner of your home, despite months having passed. Gyokko felt a pain in his chest as he wandered through your home, the memories of your sweetness tormenting his brain wherever he looked, the lights that used to illuminate the halls and rooms now like that of a fleeting dream. Changing to his true form, Gyokko found it easier for himself to get lost in everything that was encasing his senses. Looking to the ground, he saw one of the many bits of scrap paper you used to write your poems of love and infatuation upon, still stained with splotches of ink. He couldn’t resist, he was always weak for you. Plucking it from the floor, he began to read. “Stepping through the mist, like midnight’s spell

He afforded no opportunities to fleeHer mind was encapsulated by him, her heart his to control

Fate so harsh on the pair, he was ripped away

The tides of time carried the maiden far As night always intertwined with day.” Tears settled on the paper in his webbed hands, sorrow crashing into him at full force. Was this how you viewed him and yourself? He wished he could ask such a thing, he wished he could just hear that sweet, fluttery voice of yours just one more time, to hear you prattle on about why you chose the words you did, how you planned your tales. He just wanted you back. Gyokko carefully traced the kanji of your handwriting, your name falling from his lips in a whisper, soft and desperate. Part of him wished you’d appear before him, lovingly wrapping your arms around his large frame with a joyous titter. Wishful thinking. Slithering deeper into your home, your scent grew stronger as he reached your bedroom, which remained empty, and well kept, thanks to the care he found himself putting into the place. It was almost like a monument to you now, a tribute of sorts, perhaps even a way to say sorry despite you having vanished out of his life forever. Another wave of agonizing sadness filled the demon’s chest as he moved to your large, western style bed, a stack of old journals laying at its side. Gyokko got onto the bed, coiling around himself as the smell of you flooded his senses, new tears cascading down his face as the more painful memories began replaying in his mind like they always did on nights like this. The cruel words he spewed at you, the tears that flooded down your soft cheeks, the look of utter betrayal in your eyes as he brought down the hammer of his misguided wrath upon you, tearing away at everything you loved, everything you cherished. He remembers ripping up your pride and joy that was your novel, screaming at you about how you were nothing but a sniveling worm, how he couldn’t understand why he wasted his time with someone like you, and overall just ripping your heart to ribbons. Your pain screams still rang in his ears as you cried out, yelling at him to leave, leave and never come back, how cruel he was to you after you simply wanted to connect, how you thought you had connected with him, forging a friendship of sorts. All of it filled Gyokko with so much sorrow and regret. He never meant any of what he said, he truly would even go as far to say he didn’t wish to break your spirit like that, not when you managed to become so much to him, not even batting an eye whenever he’d appear after feeding, fresh blood staining both sets of teeth. No, you always welcomed him with open arms, telling him your stories, speaking to him enthusiastically and listening to him so intently. And he just drove you away after everything. He couldn’t stop himself from beginning to sob as everything replayed in his mind, bowing his head in shame and regret. “My sweet muse, I’m sorry…” He wept, shoulders shaking, chest aching in his remorse. “I never meant to say such things to you, you were never a worm, you were a goddess, something as divine as I…And yet, I ripped you apart…My heart, please let me apologize, please come back, please. Every moment without you is pure agony.” He pleaded, voice now breaking as he sobbed harder, knowing that you would never hear his pleas, knowing that you had vanished from his world. Gyokko was left alone, aching for you, longing for your sweet touches and honeyed praises. All he saw when he closed his eyes was your smile, and it burned him like fire. All he heard in the silence were the memories of your voice, which stung like a slice of a sword. Everything about you that was left behind tormented him mercilessly. Deep down, he knew he had earned this, he had earned such a drastic loss. Everything was dreary for him, nothing truly sparked his enthrall anymore, nothing that didn’t feel like you would have liked. The ache in his chest would never leave, for you had carved a hole in his heart, leaving a chasm that can never be filled.

[six-of-ravens]

aloha friends and people who left annoying incorrect opinions on my posts, raistlin is a waif he is the waifiest waif it doesn't matter if his twin is a brick shithouse you are WRONG I am kinda sorta back. maybe only for one tipsy night, but who knows. listen, I'm 1.5 ciders in and feeling Properly Tipsy as opposed to last night when I drank jack and cokes for the first time in a while and just felt nauseous, so I'm Thriving atm. ANYWAY.

i feel like i have cleared some cobwebs from my brain. kind of. mostly i redownloaded bc i have the irresistible urge to natter about my life. tbh i considered deleting tumblr for a while bc there are some things about this site (but also social media in general) that annoy the absolute shit out of me, and also i feel like I dedicated too much ~mental energy~ to this site in the past (not to sound like some new age crackpot) and I need to cut down on how much scrolling and getting mad about other people's incorrect opinions I do. However, there are a few beloved mutuals on here that I miss talking to and also tumblr is kinda Home, y'know?

anyway TLDR I'm back, kinda. might still delete the app during the day so I can focus on IRL shit instead of being a zillennial social media addict, so I apologize if I miss messages etc but. yeah. for the sake of my mental health I have to be better at self-policing. Also, no longer going to allow myself to use the For You tab, so sorry if I don't see your posts bc tumblr only served them there. I can't control it lmao. frankly the algorithm here just ain't good enough and I don't want to cry AGAIN bc a video of a naked woman jiggling her stomach with a caption about how much she hates herself and wants to lose weight came up on my feed. Frankly since this is tumblr I'm not sure if that's porn or self-harm, but either way, fuck off with that shit, man! I kinda hate my body too and I don't wanna see that!! I don't want that in my brain!! Hence why I quit and went to ig-only for a while. My IG is all pottery and miniatures and painting and European travel vlogs it's so PEACEFUL!

now onto the fun stuff, a list of things I consider interesting that happened in the past 3ish weeks:

have done a whole lot of reading lately: Homesick for Another World by Ottessa Moshfegh which is weird and off-putting by very worth reading, then a reread of the Unicorn series by Vicki Blum (always a delight) and finishing Princess Jellyfish (there's quite the plot twist in the last few books but overall it's a delightful series), then my hold for Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk came up (extremely interesting and worthwhile read, especially after listening to the No Dogs in Space punk series, very sad ending though bc of course a lot of the punk musicians passed away young), and now I'm rereading The Mermaid's Secret and The Dragon Prince by Vicki Blum as a palate cleanser, and then hopefully I'll start the LoTR reread I've been meaning to do for a while. So yeah I read like 16 books in 3 weeks. this is the power of quitting social media.

Also I've kinda discovered that I'm just pretty... disenchanted with all book-fandoms online. it's just so...kinda annoying? nowadays? just the same old drama over and over and I don't caaaare lol. Read what you want, at whatever speed you want, idc, none of it matters. I read for funsies after work. Some people read 24/7 because being a book blogger is their career. Some people are 17 and still have the mental stamina to read a 500 page book in 2 days. Idgaf if you read Maas or Austen or Sanderson or whatever, there's no moral high ground (except maybe not giving Sanderson money bc WOW BYU is a shitty organization). Also I don't necessarily want other people's opinions on what I read or if a book I just bought has "mixed reviews" or whatever (unless the person is a mutual whose opinions I value lol). So I might start posting on the book blog again but just....not interact with booklr. Torn between the desire to communicate with others and the desire to keep my hobby all to myself and free from unnecessary judgement or bullshit.

Finally rearranged my bookshelves, by ~vibe or whatever~. Might post photos tomorrow but the living room is once again in a state of chaos since I started gardening today.

On that note, started my garden! planted some veggies, herbs, and a whole boatload of tomatoes in seedling trays (listen, MacKenzie seed were on sale 3/$5 today at the store and I'm weak for weird tomato variants and herbs. Still need to find rosemary and fennel though). Have more stuff to do, but I'm going to give the seedlings a couple weeks to get started and then maybe plant everything else Easter weekend. Last year was nice, garden-wise, but this year I really hope we don't get 30C weather in May. My allergies cannot handle it 😭

saw the Alien/Aliens double feature our cheap theatre put on and it was a DELIGHT

we also got a record snowstorm that weekend, which sucked bc it was the same week I'd had a random friday booked off (previously for traveling with my aunt, very glad that was cancelled now) so I basically did none of the other things I had planned.

also after said double feature, had to make my first 911 call. luckily I rot my brain with true crime All Day Every Day so I handled it like a pro 😤 (i am fine it was for another person, and uh, it turned out to not be so serious once the emergency people were able to get them to stop crying hysterically and realized this poor person was just intoxicated, underdressed for the weather, and a bit lost)

discovered the health foods store near my place has a bunch of funky herbal teas for like $5.50 a box so I've been going a little nuts there. I LOVE FENNEL TEA IT'S SO GOOD. ALSO LAVENDER MY BELOVED! they also have a bunch of local coffee blends, and I'm seriously considering getting a coffee bean grinder so I can try them

saw Lisa Frankenstein the week after the Alien double feature at that same theatre, it was fucking excellent I laughed my ass off, also at that theatre you can get your ticket and snacks and drink for the same price as a Cineplex ticket, it's excellent

finally watched Saltburn, which was great. love the Donna Tartt vibes. i watched it while somewhat drunk off Soju, which I think is how it's meant to be viewed.

also started a Ghibli rewatch, to justify not cancelling my Netflix just yet (I know I know, I should but I technically can afford it and it's my emotional support streamer you know? how else am I going to instantaneously watch Gilmore Girls on a bad day?) So far I have only watched Kiki's Delivery Service lol

Also, funny anecdote: last week I got my period and was VICIOUSLY craving alcohol. like I went to the store and bought the most bizarre range of random things (soju, honey jack, and mead...and then proceeded to drink them at my normal rate lmao). Realized afterwards this is a combination of my usual craving for sweet things + my very stressed coworker constantly joking about how we need to crack a bottle of something when this stressful project is finished. At the time however I thought my uterus was trying to make me an alcoholic.

Did my budgeting with my new rent and discovered that I'm actually fine, because I had DOUBLED A NUMBER SOMEHOW! and I basically had $150/month freed up. I'm so smart. I continue to procrastinate my income tax though (shhhh I have another month....)

Started writing a vague story about two women hiking to a portal to elfland, which is located near an abandoned train station. There are cultists called vampires living at said train station who are such a fucking delight to write (not real bloodsucking vampires tho, they are currently eating paella 🥘). It's fun and weird and I'm having a good time with it.

started listening to a podcast called No One Should Believe Me about cases involving Munchausens by Proxy, which is very interesting. the host has a sister with (alleged) MbP and genuinely wants to get her (and of course her kids) help, so it's actually a really good, compassionate take on an issue that's usually played for shock value. I have to listen to it slowly though bc it's Heavy

started knitting again! made 1 dishcloth and started a second. have decided I'm going to take these into work when I have a few done. If my boss won't buy us proper cloths then I'll pawn my knitting practice off on them lol

there is a lot of early road construction near my office since, aside from that random snowstorm, it's been a mild early spring. be glad you haven't had to listen to me rant about that lol

finally bucked up and got a duvet cover for my comforter that was lowkey falling apart at the seams. it's a good comforter aside from some light "my washer is evil" damage so I'm happy I can stuff it into a (less expensive) duvet cover instead of having to replace the whole thing

[sumiblue]

(pictured: HE <3)

I bought a little aloe plant today.

Every place we lived in when I was growing up had aloe plants, so it seemed a natural and easy choice for my first houseplant in my first flat. The plant display in the Co-Op is right next to the door, so I picked it up, chunky green arms trailing over the pot, and placed it in my basket, carrying it with me while I got my other lumpy, hefty items. Do you see what Problems May Arise from this course of action. Me too, but I did it anyway because I was simply too nervous to do the unthinkable; shattering checkout line normalcy to go, “Oh, one moment” and dashing to get it then. My timidness cost my juicy friend a couple of his limbs, but he’s home now, on my rather bare bookshelf, green and alive. I love him to bits (...of aloe in my shopping bag) and he’s only been here for 10 hours. I keep going over to his corner, introducing him to his new environment and telling him how lovely he his. So far it had been amusing to verbally greet my living room furniture every morning, but it’s a different delight to now natter on about any and everything to this living being who might be hearing me. It scratches that itch to use one’s voice for connection. I have to keep reminding myself, though, that he’s not a new interlocutor, and my search for fulfilling connections should continue.

Loneliness, like aloe plants, has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, though living on my own for the past 3 months has definitely given it a different texture. Not worse, not better, just different. It’s probably due to an amalgamation of a few things. Moving across the Atlantic. The accumulated lessons learned and experiences from 30 years of being alive. Probably not the multi-year worldwide health emergency though...Oh wait.

I imagine most of us have seen article after article about how extended self-isolation during the pandemic has shone a light on how lonely a lot of us are, if it hadn’t caused it in itself. My mum shared an article with me this week, which talks about the fact that, for the very lonely, the solution may not be finding company with other people.

Loneliness isn't just about not being around people. It's been said numerous times that the pandemic and lockdown gave many of us the chance to really examine our relationships. We were forced to be still and listen to ourselves for once, and became more aware of what we were (or weren't) getting out of the socializing we habitually engaged in. I think, in many cases, we realized that while we had company, we weren’t experiencing connection. We started to crave it deeply, and were stymied in our attempts to fill that void because oops, outside could kill you. However, going out to find connections isn’t the solution for everyone, like the article says. Maybe in your stillness you discovered that spending time alone was precisely what you needed, and you started learning how to connect with your Self. Filling your own void. Self-love is healthy! We each have to figure out what fills that gap for our individual puzzles, whether it's solitude, company, a different type of company, etc.

I wonder also if this massive awareness of our own loneliness is sometimes misconstrued with the feeling of grief. Change leads to loss, and if we’ve experienced changing perceptions of our relationships, our selves and our social fulfilment needs, we’re bound to be thrown into a turbulent twisting uncomfortable storm of emotions. And here we’re back to sitting in self reflection innit, asking ourselves, is the name for this storm loneliness? Grief? Both? I don’t think they’re entirely separate, but it may help to identify where you are so you can figure out where to go.

Personally, I do think that my puzzle piece is painted with other people, particularly with shiny deeper connections. Having been isolated for a few years, I’ve found I do need that external input from even light interaction to remember that I am not uniquely horrible but am in fact, in a human general sense, pretty okay! I feel it in the shared frustration with the pensioners at the bus stop because the big blue bastard (affectionate) is 20 minutes late again. I feel it when the cashier wags their finger at me and says “Silly little girl, you must have confused this Appleton’s Rum for apple juice. ID please and thank you.”* In these brief little moments, I get reminded that people Exist. We just Are. We are all complicated and flawed and still wonderful. Not gonna lie though, finding and making those rare closer connections would be fucking fantastic. People around whom I can feel like I’m not the Only One. Unmask with me baybee.

But as a very temporary stop-gap measure, my darling precious aloe boy suits me fine.

*An exaggeration but it fuckin’ felt like this

[astramthetaprime]

What is this Stimming thing you speak of?

The adventure continues.  

You know how when you get diagnosed and at first you’re checking things off the list of autistic traits and you’re like “I don’t do this major thing, am I even autistic?”  I’m past the point of questioning my dx, I mean, geez looeez, I’ve got the test scores and the confirm from a therapist I am most definitely beyond question autistic.  It’s like, past denial and into the bargaining phase, y’know.  Very internalized ableism stuff.  I’ll get over it in time as I settle.  

Anyway.  So one of my major things I didn’t think I did is stimming.  I don’t do flappy hands, I don’t have any repetitive things I do physically.  I was stuck on the idea that it could only be movements.  But as many of you know, that’s not the case.  

I most definitely do verbal stimming.  I do accents.  I do palilalia.  I sing along to music.  I make weird noises.  I most definitely do all of these.  When I was working for the Post Office I had a 20 minute commute and at the end of the day when I was coming home I’d have the windows up in the car and be nattering away to myself, repeating phrases, talking in voices, singing, etc.  Just in sheer release from the straitjacket of work.  I still do it here at home.  

I don’t do it in front of people.  At all.  Because masking.  But I do it.  

So yeah, we all have our ways.  Mine is sitting over here in the corner whispering to myself in a pseudo-Eastern European accent, nattering away about the fictional country of Slobobia, a tiny forgotten former Soviet nation so small it only consists of one mountain.  Where the inhabitants are bravely forging ahead into the 21st Century with the pride of the Slobobian people, a third-hand communications sattelite with no fuel left that could fall out of orbit at any moment.  Because Science!

[nonsensicalobsessions]

For the smattering of you who may find this interesting:

I am writing a blog as Claire Hamilton, my alter ego who wrote Do You Hear What I Hear? and published it last year on Amazon:

There you will find me nattering on about my writing, thoughts about writing and life in general.

I have not been on here in months, primarily because RL can suck. When DYH dropped, my father had just died and it was not easy. The death of a parent usually isn’t, and then my youngest daughter was also very, very sick. I won’t go into detail but it was incredibly stressful and it led to strife with hub’s family when it should not have, but did anyway…and then had to help maternal unit with the hellish amount of paperwork generated by dad’s passing, processing my own grief, and coping with daughter’s decreasing health (now happily improving, inch by inch…sometimes there are setbacks, but overall she is slowly getting stronger)…and now it is the beginning of August. Sweet Mother Frigga, have mercy…

Now I am writing another novel, as well as trying to edit Symphony without Strings in the hopes of publishing that as well in the new year. I will not pull the version that is here, but as SwS is my love song to my friend Christine who died from leiomyosarcoma, it would mean so much to me to get this story to a broader audience someday. Obviously it will not have as much of a fandom influence. But the main plot will remain the same. In the wake of COVID and scientific advances, I will go over everything with a fine tooth comb to see what will need to change, and what will remain. I cannot and will not publish a story that would give anyone a false picture of what therapies might be viable for a loved one facing a life-threatening illness.

So, hop on over if you’ve a wish to see what is on my mind these days. I’d love to hear from any of you.

[imagintheworldaway]

Together

Anonymous asked: Hello! Can you do a Harryxfem! Reader where people see how Harry looks at the reader (calorie challenge- rematch (time stamp 27:17)) and the reader is so oblivious to Harry’s feeling for her because he broke up with his long-term ex last fall and she doesn’t want to read deep into it and just keeps telling people that they’re just friends even though everyone can see past the bull crap and keeps shipping them because they’re very similar and meant to be and after months of Harry pinning after her he tries to move on and go on dates (which fails but she doesn’t know that it’s not working out for him ) so she starts seeing someone and magically somehow end up together and become the “it” couple because of how blunt and honest they are. Sorry that was long! Hope you can write it thanks!

A/N Good gosh this is a long one. I hope you enjoy! Requests are open 

Sitting on the sofa next to Cal, snuggled in a mountain of blankets in Harrys apartment whilst the boys filmed a video was always fun. They were filming the 100,000 calorie challenge and it was JJ, Vik , Cal and Harrys turn to be eating the calories. We were sat watching JJ as he revealed he had absolutely failed the challenge to everyones surprise. The boys all started to complain as I giggled at the failure which was JJ right now. I felt a slight nudge on my side and Cal not so discreetly nodding towards Harry, I looked over at him and smiled but he averted his gaze from me and buried his head into the massive bear still complaining at JJ as it was revealed he had messed up the challenge even more by starting before the official time. 

After JJ’s little mess up they decided to make the fried mars bars, and I feel as though even saying it is cause for disaster. The boys were all crowded around the counter, just making a mess really, not much surprise there. I was happy in my own little world scrolling through instagram with the boys chatter in the background when I started to smell something burning and a mass amount of smoke from the boys. “Oh my god you idiots” I said matter of factly before grabbing the pan and holding it out the window, not wanting the apartment to stink of burnt mars bars as the guys tried to switch off the fire alarm. 

Once everything had calmed down I started to clean up as the boys ate the left over chocolates. “ you don’t have to clean up Y/N” Harry said to me as he bought over a plate to the sink. “Its ok I don’t mind, something to do at least” I smiled up at him. “You sure? I feel bad” he said scratching his shoulder and giving me an awkward smile. “I’m sure, go enjoy your food” I giggled pushing the boy away from me slightly. I finished up the washing as the boys chatted over their takeaways trying to figure out how many calories they were up to. I popped the remaining dishes in the dish washer and popped it on for the boys. 

Once they had finished Cal and I bid the boys goodbye and hoped in an Uber, we lived in the same apartment complex so it made sense that we shared rides just about everywhere. “Soooo” cal started tapping his his legs to the beat of the song that the Uber driver had popped on for us. i gave him a questioning glance as I sent my text to Harry, informing him I had popped the dish washer on and for him not to forget about it. “When are you two finally going to get together” Cal said peering over my shoulder and trying to take a peek at my texts with Harry. I just scoffed switching off my phone and turning my head to look at Cal. “Look he got out of a long term relationship not even six months ago, he just needs a friend right now, and that’s all I am, a friend, plus even if he hadn’t just gotten out of a relationship, well I don’t think he’d be interested in me anyway, like I said I’m just a friend” I shrugged to Cal giving him a half smile trying to cover the sadness which was evident on my face. “I don’t know Y/N if you ask me, or well any of the lads he looks at you like your a gift here gracing us all with your presence. like your some type of angel, he likes you, he really does, he’s just scared to ruin what you have” Cal stated as we hoped out the uber and made our ways into the lift. “Well I don’t want to sound rude, but I didn’t ask Cal, I don’t need my hopes being brought up just for it all to be speculation.” I stated matter of factly. “This is me, I’ll see you later yh?” I questioned Cal who just pursed his lips and nodded to me giving a small see ya. 

I really wasn’t trying to be rude but I had had my heartbroken so many times, and I don’t want to start getting my hopes up about Harry if it is just all speculation and some sort of narrative the lads were making up for themselves. I slumped down on my bed and posted a selfie on instagram asking people what they want to know about me. I wasn’t a huge YouTuber but I did have a large instagram following meaning the questions flooded in within an instant. There was the usual that I answered such as my favourite colour, what am I having for dinner, best place I had ever visited and so on. After a few more generic questions someone asked what my favourite picture was. I scrolled through my camera roll and found one of Harry and I at winter wonderland. we were both wearing Santa hats and he was giving me a piggy bag as I held onto a large teddy he had won me moments before. I captioned it ‘Christmas with my Bestfriend, look at how goofy he looks @wroetoshaw’ I giggled as I posted the pic remembering that day. it was a rare day off for the both of us and with Harrys break up still fresh I decided we should go to Winter Wonderland and just have fun. Which we did, it was one of my most treasured memories with him. He had taken his breakup so hard that I felt it was important that he had a friend around who could take the crying and emotions, someone to just cuddle with and forget about the world. And over the past few months I realised that my feelings for Harry had grown, but he was still hurting and there was no way that I was being any boys re-bound. 

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to blaring light through the blinds of my lounge. I groaned to myself before getting up and trudging to my bedroom to sort myself out. i looked at my phone and I had a few texts from Harry. I smiled as I read them. 

‘Thank you! Almost forgot, you are honestly the best Xx’

‘You alive???? Xx’

‘Good night Xx’

‘Like the insta pic’

I furrowed my eyebrows at the last text. It was sent only minutes after the goodnight text and it didn’t have any of the kisses we usually put on the end of our texts to each other. I also hadn’t got a good morning text from Harry, that was particularly strange because I have always gotten a Good morning and Good night text from him for the past few months with out fail. I just shrugged it off before replying, 

‘Haha no problem! I fell asleep as soon as I got home I’m sorry :( wanna meet up later? Xx’

I smiled at my reply before going to my bedroom and changing to look more presentable. I checked my phone and it was almost lunch meaning Cal was coming over to film a video with me. just as I re adjusted my hair for the a millionth time I heard a knock on the door signalling that cal was here. “Hello stranger” I smiled letting him into my apartment with the array of crisps and snacks he had in his arms. We were filming a British corner shop mukbang whilst answering twitter questions. As Cal settled himself in my studio I helped by opening the array of snacks and cans of drink that he had bought for us. “Hey really weird question but have you heard from Harry today?” I questioned trying not to sound so desperate as to the whereabouts of the boy. “Uh yh messaging me all morning, think he’s got something on tonight. He not told you?” Cal looked up from the array of junk raising his eyebrows at me as I just shook my head in disbelief that he was ignoring me. As we settled in our seats and I turned the camera on I sent Harry a quick text. 

‘Hey have I done something wrong?? :( Xx’ 

The video was going amazing. Cal and I just naturally bounced off of each other and the questions the fans were giving us were quite juicy. “Alright, alright, I’ve got one. Y/N has Harry asked you out yet or is he still being a melt? From @CalFreezy” I giggled at the question and raised my eyebrows at Cal. “These are meant to be from Fans” I retorted to Cal telling him off a little. “Yh Freezy is your biggest fan he’s always nattering on about you and talking about you moving in with them when Harry gets the guts” Cal defended himself causing me to burst out laughing. “Well we all know Harry and I are friends, I love him very much but that’s as deep as it goes” I replied to Cals previous question from Freezy, slight sadness barely evident in my voice. “Is that the only thing that goes deep” Cal stated before bursting out laughing at himself and falling back in his chair ultimately falling off of it causing me to laugh. “Well that’s it for today guys thank you for watching and thanks to this idiot for joining me” I smiled at the camera before shutting it off and helping Cal from the floor. 

“You really need to stop that you know? You can’t force anything to happen” I said matter of factly towards cal as he nibbled on some Pringles. “You see Y/N I’m actually Cal from the future and I’m just stating facts” he gave me a cheesy grin as I tutted at him and rolled my eyes. I was taken out of my trance by a text from my phone. “Alright ditch me for lover boy” Cal called after me. I opened my phone to see it was from Harry but it wasn’t what I was expecting. 

‘Hey Y/N, we shouldn’t hang out anymore it makes Belle uncomfortable.’ 

“Cal what the fuck is this” I shouted to my friend. I heard the thudding of his feet and turned around to show him the message I had just received. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Belle Belle Belle Oh Belle, her really?” Cal scrunched his nose up at me. “Ummm elaborate, who’s Belle?” I pressed for him to release more info to me. “Oh Harry went on a date with her like three weeks ago, looks like it worked out, well for them I guess” Cal shrugged piecing the different parts of the puzzle together for me. “Oh, wow, so he is just gonna drop me like that, like I’m, I’m nothing, like i wasn’t the one there for him when he was mourning over his last breakup. Well that’s a kick in the teeth” I said starting to sniffle, tears threatening to break their way out of my eyes and my mood instantly dropping to nothing. “Hey no don’t cry” Cal said engulfing me in a hug, which I gladly melted into. “If he couldn’t see what he had with you then that boy is more blind than we all thought.” Cal reassured me rubbing my back. “Plus your make up looks too nice to cry it off” Cal said catching a stray tear from my face and making me giggle a little. “Oh Cal why can’t we fall in love?” I questioned sniffing and straightening out my clothes. “Because that would be like fucking my sister and that’s weird” Cal stated making me giggle. 

I don’t think anyone could quite get their heads wrapped around the fact that Harry was with someone new, especially because that someone was not me. For the next month I got fans tweeting me asking if Harry and I had broken up or if he had gone crazy. I also got sorry looks from my friends. Always being placed in the furthest seat away from Harry, always given excuses as to why I couldn’t come to shoots. It sucked majorly. And the worst part about all of this is everyone felt like they had to tread on eggshells around me, as if I wasn’t a fully grown woman who could handle these situations. 

I knocked on Simons apartment door before he opened it replying to someone about something. “Oh Y/N you alright” he said quickly closing the door a little. “Yh Talia said I could pop round and grab my camera that she borrowed.” I said smiling at the lanky man. “Oh yh well um come in, just be careful yh” Simon nodded at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and just nodded at his comment following him through to the living room. And as soon as I saw the tall figure sat next to Harry with an unimpressed look on her face I realised why Simon gave me such a warning. “Heyyyy Y/N Is here” Ethan called standing up giving me a hug making me giggle a little. “Yh Talia knicked my camera again” I stated smiling at the girl who blushed a little realising she still hadn’t returned my device. “Oh so that’s Y/N” a snotty voice said causing everyone to quiet down and all eyes turning in her direction. “Yup, the one and only” I smiled back at her trying to be as nice as possible. “Belle right? Nice to meet you” I smiled back at her trying to make conversation in the silent room. I rocked back and forth on my heels for a while, Belle gave me a good look up and down, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if wanting to comment something. Before she could I saw Harry whisper something to her and she scoffed. “If I have an opinion I’m going to say it. And I have many about her” Belle said loud enough for everyone to hear whilst pointing at me. “Here I found it” Talia smiled at me handing me my camera before noticing the mood of the room. 

“Ok well, I will be off then, lovely to see you all and to meet you Belle” I stated the last part through gritted teeth before spinning around and making my way to the door. “Even worse from the back” I heard Belle try and whisper to I presume Harry. I stopped in my tracks and raised my eyebrows. The audacity of this girl, how dare she disrespect me in front of all my friends. I turned around to meet her eyes with a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. Before I could say anything though Talia butted in. “You know what, you do not talk to my friend like that, I have barely known you a month and I am so sick of you already, please leave before I do or say something I regret” she smiled at Belle joining me by my side and linking arms with me. Belle just looked around at everyone, with everyone just averting their gaze and waiting for something big to happen. All she did was huff, grabbing Harrys hand and storming out of the apartment with him. 

“Jesus Y/N what did you do to make him choose her, she’s like an angry controlling goblin” Ethan huffed as soon as we all heard the door close. “Hey, I got cut off a long time ago, ask him not me” I giggled before thanking Talia and leaving the apartment to go home. 

I was lounging around my apartment, Ethans words spiralling around my head. I decided tonight was for me. I popped on my favourite movie and rummaged through my freezer finding some ben and Jerrys and starting to scoff down the tub. This sofa must be super man or something because I had soon fallen asleep, I was only awoken by loud continuous knocking at my door. I regained my focus and gaged my surrounding before wrapping a blanket around myself and making my way to the door. As soon as I opened it I was pulled into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so fucking sorry, its you its always been you, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just needed someone to fill the void and she was ok for a week but I need you. You are all I need, all I want, please forgive me I love you” as much as I just wanted to melt into his arms I pulled my self back so that we were an arm lengths apart. “You best come in” I sighed. I finished the teas and made my way over to Harry, passing him his favourite mug of mine. I crossed my legs as we sat at opposite ends of the sofa in silence. 

“What about Belle?” I broke the silence, harry whipped his head up to look at me. “Look I’m so sorry she was a mistake and I should never have even given her shot. She’s so nasty and I could never forgive myself. This past month without you has felt like my heart was ripped in two. I’ve been so miserable and then when I saw you today I felt like I had been given a new chance at life. I get it if you hate me but I need you so bad and I cant live without you.” Harry opened his heart to me for the second time that evening. “You’re such a dummy Harry” I said with a sigh placing my mug on the coffee table. Harry looked at me as if he was broken by the words I just said. I just shook my head at him before leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his lips. The moment seemed to last forever. It was like in the movies when time slowed down and fireworks erupted around the couple who after all their trials and tribulations finally found each other. “I can’t help but love you Harry” I whispered only inches from his face as I pulled back for air, a sly grin on my face. Harrys arms snaked around my wait brining me into him for another soft kiss. i leant my head on his chest listening to his heart, thumping like it was going to break out and slap me in the face. “So what now” harry mumbled into my hair. I leant up so my eyes met his. “Well you will ask me on a date to a nice restaurant where we end up getting a little too drunk. Then we walk along the Thames, watching people walk by when at the perfect moment when the city goes silent you ask me to be your girlfriend and then we come back here and spend the night together. But with a little more physical activity than were used to” I grinned at him causing him to chuckle. “So you forgive me?” He said looking at me with pleading eyes. “God yes I forgive you, I could never be mad at you” I smiled at him. How could I? I did truly love him and it was as simple as that. 

After a few months, and the date Harry had promised, we told our friends and announced to our followers that we had finally decided to get together. apparently it was quite obvious as the boys had started taking bets as to when we would tell them about our new relationship. The fans seemed to love it as well, always receiving amazing and supportive comments on all of our posts and videos that we did together. Although we were young I think people saw how care free and happy we made each other. Most importantly how much we loved each other.

[secret-engima]

I am full of rage of despair, and this week is gonna be a hard one. Can I request a few snippets, if you don't mind?

Sure! Not sure what I have.... the muses have been hibernating of late. But I'll dig up something. Um, I apologize if I accidentally repeat a snippet? I can't keep track of what scenes I've already snipped sometimes ^^;.

...

Genshin Impact

Danger, his instincts sang like a drumbeat, a promise-.

He caught the first glimpse of gold and everything crystalized.

The … thing … was person shaped. Remarkably human-like, really. Gold hair in a long braid, foreign clothes that stood out but not too much. No visible abnormalities and no noticeable weapons for anyone to get nervous about. It slipped from pocket to pocket of crowd, listening to conversation and talking to people with the friendly mien of a predator that was humoring prey. No one else in the crowd noticed the danger at all —but then, they couldn’t even recognize Childe as dangerous beyond his position as one of the Fatui, they had no chance to spot this predator—. Just behind it trailed another being, this one genuinely harmless, nattering on in a voice that seemed pitched right on the edge of annoying and cute. A carrion eater perhaps. Or more likely a pet to help maintain the facade of harmlessness. Or emergency food.

The golden haired danger —monster? Being? Certainly not human, Childe could just tell on a primal level he never ignored— paused when it came closer to his hiding spot, slowing and glancing around with gold eyes that gleamed, too sharp and too attentive. Childe dropped his gaze to an inch or so below its metal-edged boots and held perfectly still, holding his breath mid exhale, eyes half lidded so he wouldn’t feel the urge to blink too soon. He could feel gold eyes searching his hiding place, but never sensed the predatory focus settle on him, so when it finally looked away and moved back into the crowd of civilians, Childe was fairly certain it hadn’t actually seen him. Just sensed his attention. He dared look up and keep watching, fascinated and wary all at once.

He’d been watching for maybe ten or more minutes before it finally sank in where he had seen those features before, where he had heard of a small, floating companion.

How had something that dangerous and inhuman gotten the title of “Honorary Knight of Favonius”? Was it just that good at faking when it tried or were the Knights just that blind? Then again … Signora hadn’t mentioned anything about the Traveler not being human either, so maybe it was only obvious to him because of who he was. This did help explain how a complete stranger had come from nowhere and ended up helping end Mondstadt’s problems with Stormterror though.

...

Blood of My Blood verse

Dionysus hesitated to answer a new relative who was already using their deep voice —even though he didn’t sound all that angry or mean, his voice was booming and a bit scary—, and startled when a gentle hand suddenly tugged his shoulder and pulled him behind a corner. Dionysus blinked up in surprise at what looked like one person in two places. Or … two people who looked like just one. They were crouched down on his level, and the one touching his shoulder raised a finger in a sign to be quiet. Dionysus obediently clapped his hands over his mouth with a budding smile, because the magic dancing around him from the pair was full of light and fun and happiness, like they were about to play a wonderful game and wanted him to come along. The one who wasn’t touching winked at him, then leaned around the corner to peak at the deep voice.

Leaning back, the person nodded to the mirror double and the pair led him deeper into a sprawling garden that looked vaguely familiar —like the royal garden when he was awake, but also not—. The three of them scurried from flower bush to flower bush, avoiding the deep voiced man with a thick beard who was wandering slowly down the garden path looking increasingly puzzled. Eventually, they lost sight of the man entirely and his voice was faint despite being so deep. They all hid inside the drooping circle of a willow’s branches and the one holding Dionysus’s shoulder finally spoke, “Alright, now that we’re away from him for a moment, we can talk.” The person turned to him with a bright smile that made her —his? Dionysus couldn’t quite tell— face light up, “Hello there, Little Claret.”

“I’m Dionysus,” he corrected, even though he suspected it was a nickname —all his relatives liked to call him different nicknames, it was weird even if he didn’t really mind—.

Sure enough, the pair grinned at each other, then the first one explained, “Claret is like the color of your hair. I think it fits.”

...

Amongst Untrodden Ways

He spotted the rain before he spotted the town of Lantana. It was a line of clouds stretching out about a mile past the city, maybe two, all roiling and thick and dark grey when just past them the day was clear and sunny and beautiful. As the train got closer and closer to the wall of rainclouds, Gray opened the window and leaned out for a better look. Okay yeah, that definitely looks like a curse. Even from here, he could see that the rainclouds formed a near perfect circle around the town, and the rain was falling so thick that from far away it looked like some kind of grey curtain trying to hide the shape of the town inside. Gray made a face as he compared the approaching clouds to the beautiful day on the outside. It’s so … gloomy. Why would anyone curse a town with this? Seemed kind of overkill really. Though he supposed it wasn’t as bad as some of the curses he’d heard other Fairies talking about.

And it wasn’t as bad as a demon rampaging through their streets killing everything. So. There was that.

Gray shook his head to clear that thought, yelped when the train passed beneath the line of clouds and he got a sudden and chilly face full of rain. He yanked his head back inside and slammed the window shut. He was going to get soaked hunting for the source of the curse he was sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get wet right now. One of the few people in the train car laughed at his disgruntled expression, “First time passing through Lantana?”

Gray tried to swat the water from his hair as he grunted, “Yeah.”

The man nodded, expression falling into something resigned, “It doesn’t always rain quite this heavily, but it certainly never stops. Most people take one of the other routes these days, just so they don’t have to stop here on their way somewhere nicer.”

Gray eyed the man, “You live here?”

“My relatives do.” The man corrected, “I’ve been trying to convince them to move out for years, but they keep insisting they won’t let a little rain drive them out.”

Gray gaped, “Years? It’s been raining that long?”

The man shrugged, “Around four years now.”

Gray felt his mouth drop open even more, “Four years?” That was a stupidly long time to keep a spell going. Or a curse. Why would anyone curse a town to four years of rain anyway? It made no sense. “Why would someone do that?”

The man shrugged, “No one knows. All I know personally is that Lantana used to have lovely weather. It was famous for its rose gardens too, but with all this rain … even the roses in the greenhouses are drooping and wilted. They’re safe from drowning in the rain, but the lack of sunlight ruins them just as much.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Baxia and NHS.

Author’s note: this fic ended up having virtually no NHS, sorry

-

“This isn’t right,” Wei Wuxian said. “This isn’t how it should go – you’re not even supposed to be here!”

Nie Mingjue huffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes only because he needed them pinned on the murderous battlefield the Lotus Pier had become. “No one can predict the future,” he said shortly, and stepped out into the hallway, Baxia lifted high, and another four Wen soldiers’ lives came to an end. “To think that you can is arrogance.”

“You don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian insisted, and honestly, if he hadn’t made himself extremely useful both as guide and back-up, Nie Mingjue would have sent him away long ago to spare himself the headache. “It’s not – you might die here.”

He sounded upset about that. It was flattering, given that they’d never spent any time together before now; he must be basing his impression entirely on Nie Mingjue’s reputation.

Flattered or not, Nie Mingjue still wasn’t very impressed right now. “That’s a risk you take when you fight, yes. Don’t blame yourself – there was no way to predict when the Wens were going to attack, or where; they could have just as easily have come to Qinghe.”

“They wouldn’t have been able to get close,” Wei Wuxian muttered, and that was flattering, too. “It’s just – it’s too early. We should have had another few months!”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t aware the Jiang sect had been taking the threat of Wen aggression so seriously that they’d been making estimates, but it was all for the best. 

Maybe it would help them in the war to come.

“Anyone who says they can see the future is being lied to,” he said. “Man plans and the Heavens overturn; that is the way of things. Anyway, you’re not wrong: it probably would have been later, should have been later, but they were robbed of their victory at the Cloud Recesses. There’s no satisfaction in burning empty buildings with all the treasures and people gone, no victory in it – it’s no wonder they accelerated.”

Wei Wuxian looked stricken by the thought.

“Cheer up,” Nie Mingjue said. “The Jiang sect will survive. That will be bad news for the Wens.”

Jiang Fengmian might be mild-mannered to the point of weakness, but he was an excellent cultivator, and of course Madame Yu’s fearsome reputation had been well earned. After this, they would have no choice but to be on the front lines.

“But you might not,” Wei Wuxian said again.

“A worthwhile trade,” Nie Mingjue said, and shrugged when Wei Wuxian gawked at him. “Haven’t you noticed that they’re following us? Dozens if not hundreds of Jiang sect cultivators that might otherwise have been put to the sword will be able to escape, and between all those lives and one, even my own, which one do you think will be more useful in winning the war?”

“You,” Wei Wuxian said. “You and your Nie sect, holding down Heijan like an iron wall for the Wen sect to waste its strength against.”

Was Wei Wuxian a fan?

Bizarre.

“I appreciate your confidence in my necessity,” he said, and ducked into another small nook when a group of Wen soldiers too large to easily handle ran by. The momentary rest was welcome. “And if it makes you feel better, they’re not aiming to kill me.”

“They’re not?” Wei Wuxian asked, appearing like a ghost in front of one of the sentries to slit his throat. He was surprisingly adept in the arts of warring in confined spaces, the ambush and the merciless kill; it almost made one wonder what purpose the Jiang sect had for him.

“With these numbers, if they wanted us dead, we’d be dead,” Nie Mingjue said. They’d lasted a good while longer than he’d expected, actually, a tribute to Wei Wuxian knowing how to get through the Lotus Pier in a thousand unexpected ways and their united strength, but even that was flagging: he had cuts and bruises in a hundred places, some more critical than others, and Wei Wuxian for all his pointless complaining wasn’t doing that great either. Perhaps his nattering was his way of distracting himself from their imminent fate. “I’ve humiliated Wen Xu before. Wen Chao wouldn’t be able to resist the thought of capturing me – and when he does, it’ll be the Core-Melting Hand.”

A sharp intake of air.

“Are you sure? I can understanding wanting to take you prisoner, but…”

“If he doesn’t think of it himself, I’ll make sure he does,” Nie Mingjue said, and ignored how Baxia grew warm with rage in his hand. He flipped back his sleeve and dipping his fingers into the blood seeping out of wound in his chest – an arrow that had come too close – and began drawing on his right hand with his left. “There are worse fates out there.”

“But –”

“Normal people die faster,” Nie Mingjue said, choosing the least traumatic of the possible reasons. Wei Wuxian was young; he didn’t need to know the worst of Wen Ruohan’s wretchedness. Nie Mingjue’s cultivation was too high and too compatible with Wen Ruohan’s own: his fate, if he were to go to the Nightless City intact, would not be so easy as death. He was counting on Wen Chao not knowing anything about his father’s most vile preferences, or possibly just being too stupid to think about them. “That’ll be an advantage. But more importantly, losing my cultivation renders me immediately ineligible to be Sect Leader, and my value as a hostage will be significantly reduced.”

Wei Wuxian looked shaken by Nie Mingjue’s practicality. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and then focused again, this time on the bloody array making its way up Nie Mingjue’s arm to the elbow and down to the backs of his fingers. “What are you doing?”

“A legacy,” Nie Mingjue said, even as Baxia screamed in his mind like metal scraping against stone. “For my brother. He’ll need all the help he can get…speaking of which, it’s time for you to go.”

“What?”

“The Wen sect isn’t looking for you, however much you irritated Wen Chao,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s always been my plan to ensure you got away clearly before I was captured – and it’s nearly time, now. No man can fight an army alone.”

His body burned, exhausted and worn out from the hours of fighting; he’d done as much as he could, and everything else left in him was for Huaisang, who deserved better than to be made Sect Leader too young the way Nie Mingjue had. He had hoped to spare him that, but if he couldn’t do that much – he could at least do this one thing.

This one terrible thing, forbidden by his ancestors, abominable anathema – but there was little Nie Mingjue would not do for his brother, and he had faith even if he had no hope.  

Baxia was fighting him over it, resistant and rebellious in a way she hadn’t been since the first time he’d mastered her – the first time he imposed his will on hers, making the inexorable bend before him. They had been partners after that, and that was how he preferred it; but in the end he was the master, as it had to be, and she could not stop him.

“You should go,” he said again to Wei Wuxian. “If you get caught, what’s the point?”

Wei Wuxian’s hands were shaking, but he nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said, as if he were responsible for this somehow. “Thank you.”

And then he was gone.

What a ridiculous young man.

Baxia was biting him, causing his palm to bleed, trying to mess up his design – urging him to fight instead, to fight kill slaughter a way out, any way out.

“I’ll try,” he yielded enough to promise her. He needed to stay on her good side, after all; the array wouldn’t work without her. “I’ll give it a try, with all my strength.”

He did.

It wasn’t enough.

No man can fight an army.

In the end, he’s forced down on his knees, as he’d expected, Wen Chao standing in front of him at a more-than-sufficient distance as if he was afraid Nie Mingjue would leap up and stab him even with four people and suppression array fierce enough to bring down a ghost general holding him down.

He was probably right.

“You’re a coward,” he told him, and Wen Chao laughed nervously. “A coward, and a fool.”

“Well, he caught you, didn’t he?” Wang Lingjiao snapped, her voice shrill with nervousness, and a single glare was enough to have her cowering backwards. “He did! Wen-er-gongzi, you’re a hero!”

No one believed her, not even Wen Chao, but with an effort he puffed himself up anyway. “You shouldn’t have stood against my Wen sect,” he said, aiming for lofty and mostly coming off as cheap. “This is a just punishment.”

The Wen sect would paint the ground blue and the sky green if it got them what they wanted, and Nie Mingjue snorted in disgust, closing his eyes for a moment to find the trigger for the array painted onto his saber arm.

It burned.

Baxia, kicked across the room to get her away from him, seethed. Still not assuaged, still unhappy, still rebellious – but he did try to escape. It wasn’t his fault that he was only human.

It burned.

“Wen Zhuliu,” Wen Chao ordered, as Nie Mingjue knew that he would. “Let’s see how the esteemed Sect Leader Nie likes it when there’s nothing left of his oh-so-great cultivation. When he’s nothing.”

It burned.

Nie Mingjue smiled through the pain, baring his teeth at the cautious approach of Wen Zhuliu. “No matter what I am,” he said, “I am enough to terrify your nightmares.”

“Not for long,” Wen Chao shouted, which was admission enough. “Wen Zhuliu! Do it!”

Nie Mingjue’s cultivation was usually like a mighty river, rushing through his veins – to feel it spill out of order, pouring out of his body and into the array in his arm, was painful to the extreme, like bleeding out but worse. But it had been long enough, he had distracted them long enough.

Nie Mingjue hoped that it would be enough. 

By the time Wen Zhuliu put his hand on his shoulder, reaching down for his dantian, the river had become little more than a trickle.

Wen Zhuliu’s stone face cracked in two.

“What? What is it?” Wen Chao demanded, realizing something was wrong from the look on his retainer’s face. “What did the bastard do?!”

“I don’t know,” Wen Zhuliu said slowly. “But – his cultivation. There’s almost nothing left of it, and his meridians are all burned and twisted…his golden core is faint enough to be almost hollow.”

“That’s impossible,” Wen Chao scoffed. “Everyone knows how powerful Sect Leader Nie is! Even my father…what did he do? How did he – why did he –?”

He stopped, shook his head.

“It’s a trick,” he decided. “Do it anyway. I want to make sure there’s nothing left of him –”

There was a scream.

It sounded like metal against stone, harsh and ringing and shrill; it sounded like rage.

It sounded like hope.

Nie Mingjue smiled, a real smile his time, and shut his eyes.

Everyone else in the room turned to look.

It was the last mistake they made.

Nie Mingjue only opened his eyes again when a hand landed on his shoulder and fiercely shook him as if he were a disobedient kitten, and when he opened his eyes there was a woman glaring death down at him. She was tall, her features more fierce than beautiful, and she was dressed only in blood and guts.

“I knew you’d be lovely,” he said.

She smacked him in the face, hard enough that his head was ringing, and snarled wordlessly at him. There was nothing but rage in her face, in her eyes; the array he had used to give her every ounce of the cultivation he had built up for years, and most of his life-force besides, was forbidden for a reason – it would unleash something terrible into the world.

Something that knew no restraint, no mercy, only the desire to kill –

Well, in theory.

A small smack on the head was very much the least that Baxia could do.

“You’ll take care of Huaisang, won’t you?” he asked her, the remnants of his qi lurching unsteadily within him; he would have a qi deviation sooner rather than later as his body attempted to cultivate at its usual rate with virtually none of the spiritual energy required to do so, and his family did not have a good track record of surviving those – though he’ll be the first of his line to die from exhaustion rather than rage. “He’ll need someone strong by his side, to do for him what needs to be done…to tell him what evil is, in case he can’t figure it out on his own.”

“I don’t think that’s a problem Nie Huaisang has, actually; you’d be surprised,” said Wei Wuxian, who Nie Mingjue had entirely forgotten about, the sound of his voice a sudden shock of surprise.

He jumping down from some rafter where he’d been hiding – planning some sort of insane rescue, perhaps, or maybe just trying to bear witness. He had a flute clutched in his hands, of all things; Nie Mingjue hadn’t even known that he cultivated with music as well as the sword.

“Also,” he added conversationally, “what the fuck was that.”

Baxia hissed at him, a sound like the slow slide of a saber out of its sheath.

Wei Wuxian wisely took several large steps back.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said, voice suddenly much more polite. “Forgive me my surprise, but – your saber just cultivated into a guai.”

“I wasn’t expecting her to get there this quickly,” Nie Mingjue said, nodding. “I’d been counting on them taking her back to the Nightless City…”

“Where she’d be able to use the resentful energy to cultivate into a guai, and therefore act as a weapon against the Wen from the inside,” Wei Wuxian said, nodding. He was really very clever, figuring out that Nie sect sabers could use resentful energy like that, in a way humans could not. Or, well, should not. “Except she really, really wanted to kill everyone here before they hurt you, so she did it faster.”

Baxia hissed again.

“What?” Wei Wuxian said, lifting up his flute defensively. “Am I wrong?”

She jabbed a finger at Nie Mingjue, who swayed a bit from the sheer force of it even though she hadn’t put any spiritual energy into it. So much saber qi…! Guai were truly different from humans.

“I don’t know what you want – fuck. You look terrible, Chifeng-zun.”

“That would be the blood loss,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Possibly the impending qi deviation. Hard to tell, really…what?” he asked, seeing the expression on Wei Wuxian’s face. “You didn’t think this type of array is something you’re supposed to survive, did you?”

“But you’re not angry!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, already reaching out to start transferring spiritual energy into him. It wouldn’t be enough. “You’re not – you’re empty.”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“You gave her everything you had…no wonder she was able to cultivate into humanity,” Wei Wuxian said, and there it was again, that ridiculous admiration. “Mistress Saber, is the only thing wrong with him the lack of qi?”

Baxia jerked her head. If Nie Mingjue lived as something other than a comatose vegetable, he’d have to teach her to properly talk, assuming that guai were capable of that. They weren’t like yao, which had once been animals or plants and familiar with the generalities of things such as eating or breathing; guai were formed from the non-living, and had never known such simple things as mere words.

He missed their connection.

If he had any qi left, he would be able to figure out what she was thinking behind that flat expressionless face that had not yet figured out how to convey anything other than rage.

If he wasn’t going to die, he’d get to see the terrible, wonderful things she would do at his little brother’s side – he’d have to be sect leader now, yes, but he wouldn’t need to change himself, contort himself into something he wasn’t, to have the strength to hold it.

He would have liked to have seen it.

“Chifeng-zun? I know something that might help stop the bleed of your qi. But it’s…unorthodox.”

Nie Mingjue waved a hand, consenting; the alternative was death, so why not?

Wei Wuxian lifted his flute to his lips and began to play.

-

Much later, Nie Mingjue wakes up in the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang at his side and Baxia having apparently learned to properly scowl, and – yes.

No matter any of Wei Wuxian’s complaints, it was a worthwhile trade.

[chalkrevelations]

Huh.

Well, this is not the next episode reaction you were expecting, but a while back, in the middle of the night, while I was ready to cry from working on a pharmacology paper, out of nowhere, Youtube threw up Street Dance of China S3 Ep1 at me. And yeah. I am, admittedly, f’kn weak for a dance show. (There are enough SYTYCD episode reax on my old Livejournal that I feel there’s no point denying this.)

So – no, actually, wait. FIRST of all, I do NOT believe the “towel vote” we ended up being given for the opening routines from the four captains. That was the most blatant bit of bullshit chicanery I’ve seen in my LIFE, and I say this as a person with a ton of SYTYCD episode reax on my old Livejournal, and I also say this not because Wang Yibo ended up last (well, not entirely), but because I saw Wallace Chung’s routine. As someone closer in age to him than to the other three captains, I have to give him props for trying, but come on, man. The critique that Yibo got from random contestants – if the subtitles are to be believed, so I realize this needs a grain of salt - basically boiled down to “it was too good for the stage lighting.” :hands: Also, I saw your face at the reveal, Wallace, and you were as shocked as I was. No way you got more towels/votes than Wang Yibo. Not unless there’s some super wild undercurrent of nostalgia propping you up, which, I guess could happen, because literally all I know about pop culture in China, current or otherwise, is filtered through Tumblr and Youtube, both notoriously suspect, but … anyway. There’s got to be a TON of behind-the-scenes manipulation going on for Yibo to be rock-bottom with last pick of teams but then also to end up with THAT pool of possibles. Are you kidding me with this?

ANYWAY, what I wanted to say is that I actually really like Wang Yibo here, and it’s not just because he’s the only captain I have even a sliver of familiarity with, and it’s not just because Lan Wangji was banging Wei Wuxian. I do realize all of this is influenced by whatever edit they’ve decided to give a particular captain or contestant, but I’m impressed with the way Yibo immediately starts team building by getting his group into a warmup, getting them dancing together, getting them dancing with him before they have to worry about dancing for him. (I mean, come on, Jackson Wang. The way to get people to stop being nervous is not to say “Stop being nervous! It will make you fuck up!”) The way Yibo immediately recognized and responded to his group’s concerns about that one dude copying someone else’s routine probably also bought him a lot of return investment. He’s dressed to work it, in his sweats and his flannel (what IS that fake-leather TAC vest and random leg holster-looking thing, Jackson Wang?). He’s convincing me he really loves to dance, he can’t hold still while he watches the contestants, he’s wandering over into other captains’ turf when it sounds like there’s a dancer performing who he might like to see, he’s being the best Yibo he can be, and I’m grooving along, wind in my hair, totally down for this ride. He’s also adorable at the beginning when all the other captains are like, my goal for this season is to slaughter the competition and dance on their graves! And he’s like, well, I’d like to … make some friends? And learn some new stuff? I don’t know if the perpetual Humble Student schtick is natural or persona, or whether it’s general or specific to dancing, but it’s working for you, my dude. This is also made better (read: ironic), by the fact that it’s immediately before the towel reveal, when he flips over to utter disbelief and gets all sulky for a while over the “fact” that his dance routine got the least votes.

Also, OH WAIT. This is where that clip of Yibo dancing with his crew ALL OVER HIM came from that I saw floating around a few months ago, isn’t it? You’re telling me those guys had never danced together before and had like, three minutes to throw together that routine? I’m even more impressed than before. Meanwhile, the towels symbolize courage and challenge, Mr. Emcee? OK, fine, cheesy reality show blah blah whatever. Can we get to the dancing now?

I’m going to put the rest of this behind a cut, because it got super long, because it turns out, when you watch in 5-minute increments, it takes two and a half weeks to get through a single episode, but you actually can see and have opinions on all 5,328 contestants, plus every single one of the captains’ battles. Meanwhile, I’m trying to convince myself this is not going to be another series of episode reactions, but 1) I do have the benefit of not having a ton of hometown media giving me a next-day play-by-play, so even though this is six months old, everything’s a surprise; 2) I am, admittedly, f’kn weak for a dance show; and 3) it’s easy to watch in 5-minute increments between researching drug interactions in hypothetical hypertensive patients with stable ischemic heart disease, erectile dysfunction, and seasonal allergies. So, I guess we’ll see. It’ll be slow going, though, because I don’t ever have two and half hours to sit down and watch an ep cover-to-cover – if it happens, it will likely keep happening in 5-minute increments. Meanwhile, there is a metric shit-ton of nattering below the cut, so caveat lector. No, seriously, I kept adding to this little by little until it became a monster. Hashtag long post (remorseful).

OK, I am generally out of my depth here, as this is not at all my area of dance not-really-expertise, but some reactions:

Team Wang Yibo: I can see why he didn’t want to choose between Colin and Dian Men – Colin might have been a touch better technically and a better showman, but Dian Men didn’t seem to have a single wasted move – but, also, my dude. Yibo. You maybe should look a little bit less stunned and overwhelmed by the mere presence of Colin, it’s giving me ideas about your taste in men. Continuing with the powerhouses, I probably shouldn’t even attempt to critique Klash, but I did feel like he was a bit stiff in some of his footwork; that final V kick, though, shit, that’s what having that kind of upper-body strength is for. Bouboo … I mean, excellent flexibility and control, of course, but mainly I’m just terribly amused that Yibo got last pick of teams but somehow ended up with the guy who’s literal world champion, and who’s just as useful for getting into the other captains’ heads – without even trying – as he is for his talent. And then there’s a montage of Yibo giving out towel after towel after towel, and my dude, you cannot keep up this pace. There are still too many dancers to see, and you don’t have that many towels. AAANNNND Towel Battle #1 (See Footnote 1).

Team Jackson Wang: I do like Gai Gai, although that may be influenced by the fact she’s working in the twilight area between hip-hop and contemporary that I have more familiarity with - but also, I suspect she’s pretty good in her genre. I thought Xiao Jie was inconsistent and didn’t stick the landing on his initial attempt, so I have to give you that hesitation, Jackson, even though you’ve somehow ended up the villain in my inner narrative for this show, for no particular reason I can yet discern. Maybe it’s that you’re the direct competition for Yibo’s team in the towel battles. Good enough. Anyway, Xiao Jie definitely stepped up his game for the battle with Bingo, so I can kind of see why both of them got a towel, but we’re not even halfway through this, and most of y’all are giving away towels like you have an endless supply. Yang Kai is a fucking menace with fantastic musicality, and I’m just gonna say it and take the fallout - I think he gave a better performance first time out of the gate than any of Yibo’s powerhouses did. Whatever power Klash has got, whatever skill Bouboo has got, Yang Kai feels more explosive and engaging, at least in these initial showings. He’s going to be one to beat, I’d hug him too, if he was on my team and was going to help me WIN. Yibo’s probably lucky that happened during his little stroll over to check out the competition, so that he can see they’re definitely competitive and be prepared for it. Also, Jackson, I have to admit - that face you made when Chao really kicked in? That was the same face I made, because wt actual f, you have a literal secret weapon – secret because he CAME FROM NOWHERE and NO ONE EVEN KNOWS him, how is that even possible, how did he get that good – fluid, creative, controlled, incredible musicality - without anyone having any idea who he even is? And then there’s a montage of Jackson just giving out towel after towel after towel, and my dude, you need to slow down. You can’t just be like, “THEY LOVE DANCE WITH ALL OF THEIR WHOLE HEARTS!!!!1111!!!!11!” I get it, but everyone there loves dance with all of their whole hearts, and there are not enough towels to send all of them on to the next round. ANNNND, Towel Battle #1 (See Footnote 1).

Team Lay Zhang: lol at how diplomatic you’re being, Lay Zhang – your team’s fierce roar startled you, OK. At this point, I suspect you’re the street most likely to have a knife fight break out before this is all over. I do like Alex, I think he’s got a lot of interesting, super-clean details in his moves, and he’s engaging - I cannot BELIEVE you made him battle that dude whose moves were so mushy, Lay Zhang, it leaves me doubting your ability to judge this thing. At first I thought maybe you were just looking for an excuse because you wanted to see Alex freestyle, but then you actually said something about both dancers being equal, and my estimation of you plummeted, and also sadly, my sound dropped out for the actual battle, including the part where the clearly inferior dancer fell over and then accidentally POPPED ALEX ONE IN THE EYE, and I TOLD YOU SO. I do agree it’s a good idea to make dancers in the same genre do some battling, so you can kind of plan out your towels and put together a team with broad strengths, instead of giving out towels like you’re making it rain for the first 20 contestants, and then you have 1,375 more people to get through, with 3 towels left, as EVERYONE ELSE seems to be doing, so it’s nice that at least one of you guys is thinking – if not actually acting - strategically. That was clearly not even a contest, though, GIVE ALEX HIS TOWEL and send him to the next round. Xiao Bao is hilarious, with his concern that his team captain, who’s into krump, which is “beating,” isn’t going to appreciate his waacking, which is “slapping.” I also don’t know a whole lot about waacking, so thanks for the primer, Xiao Bao, and don’t worry, your performance is just as engaging for those of us who don’t know what we’re watching as you are generally. You deserve that towel for your ability to interact with and engage your audience, alone. Lingo is a good solid performance, although he’s got his team captain strategizing edited over some of it, and here’s the thing: we are 1:56:00 into this, at this point, with another half hour to go, and all of you are starting to disappear into the sea of dancers who are very good at what you do, but at generally the same level? Anyway, Lingo, I approve of your ability to interact with your audience (read: your captain) to ensure engagement, too, so keep that up. Annnd, we actually haven’t seen that much of you guys, but it’s time for Towel Battle #2 (See Footnote 2).

Team Wallace Chung: I’m glad Su Lian Ya insisted on performing, I thought she started off slow but warmed up, and that ending was creepily fantastic and had me spontaneously grinning at the screen in delight. Then we lose sight of this group for a really long time, actually. We go back to find Wallace putting through a couple of urban dancers who we barely see, but who apparently claim to have some choreography experience, and he really likes that. TI shows up, and they’re solid, but honestly, not as good in this performance as they were in some of the stock footage the show threw up to introduce them, but Wallace remains super-excited about the idea of choreography and sends at least choreographer Zhang Jiang Peng through to the next round. And then, we really haven’t seen that much of you guys, either, which maybe doesn’t bode well, but it’s time for Towel Battle #2 (See Footnote 2).

FOOTNOTE 1, aka TOWEL BATTLE ONE, Team Yibo vs. Team Jackson, 3V3 freestyle: First of all, I have to say, I love Yibo - Mr. I Just Wanna Make Some Friends And Have Some Fun - being all, “I have three crappy white towels I’m stuck with for coming in last place that I can’t use to send dancers to the next round and that I DO NOT DESERVE, and I am getting BACK the colorful towels that ARE RIGHTFULLY MINE. I am coming for whoever is in my way.” Team Yibo is Bouboo, Klash, Dian Men, and OK, given what we’ve seen so far, that’s the safe choice, but honestly, I think we’re just taking some things for granted right now, and I’m not sure they actually have given the best performances so far. Yeah, I said it. Team Jackson is Yang Kai, Chao, and Xiao Jie, and … ok, on that last one, I think you probably could have substituted Bingo, but all right. Yang Kai is a definite yes. Chao will be great if he can stay out of his own head and not psych himself out, but given what we’ve seen so far, he’s an obvious pick. First round, Yang Kai vs. Klash, and Yang Kai is still a fucking menace, with super lines. Klash definitely stepped up his game for the battle, and I can’t get over the upper body strength he’s got, to get that kind of airy bounce in his moves, but to be honest, I can’t even be mad the first round went to Yang Kai and Team Jackson. Second round, Yang Kai is still … y’all, the beautiful lines from this guy in his poses, I can’t get over them, but I think he doesn’t have the stamina, his footwork is getting sloppy. Bouboo also steps up his game for an actual battle, his fluidity and control is amazing, and yeah, round to Team Yibo. Round three, Xiao Jie gives it a decent effort, but the polish isn’t there; meanwhile Bouboo is still in champion mode, and I was kind of surprised this was a split vote and went to another round. Xiao Jie absolutely surprised me, coming back stronger on his second try, although I suppose a more familiar genre helped, but Bouboo continues in champion mode. Round four, Chao looks like he’s going to throw up right before he steps out there, and then as soon as the music starts, it’s like, he doesn’t even think. The music just moves him. I feel like his dance vocabulary is more limited than Bouboo’s, though, and Bouboo’s flow is amazing at this point, so I feel like the judges just want to drag this out and see more dancing when we go to one more round. Strong effort all around, but yeah, round four and two towels to Team Yibo. I can’t really complain about that. I do feel like Yibo’s powerhouses have been holding back until now, though, and I’m not sure how I feel about THAT.

FOOTNOTE 2, aka TOWEL BATTLE TWO, Team Zhang vs. Team Wallace, 3V3 w/ captain: lol, Team Zhang really wants someone to pick the Sailor Moon song because they know Xiao Bao and his waacking will tear it up. Anyway, Team Zhang includes Lingo and Xiao Bao, who does not get his Sailor Moon song and continues to be hilarious in his disbelief about being chosen to participate in this battle, when he’s not looking almost as sick as Chao from Team Jackson before HIS performance. Team Wallace includes Su Lian Ya – and honestly, despite how I’m getting ready to bag on him for the entire rest of this battle recap, I like that Wallace put one of his female dancers up there for the battle - and some dude named Ba that they haven’t given us any footage of, up ‘til now, at least that I can remember and who I … don’t even know has been formally given a towel and sent on to the next round, yet? Oh wait, he must have, because there’s talk in the pause for choreography about somehow using the towels during the battle. Wallace relies on Su Lian Ya and Zhang Jiang Peng to choose Ba, and then Ba ends up choreographing a lot of the performance, at least from the edit we see. I continue to feel you may be in over your head, Wallace. This feeling … is not assuaged by your performance in the first round, which is fine, but not really up to the level of almost anyone whose name I’ve bolded so far in this entire recap. Also, using the towels was a cute idea, but it doesn’t translate well, and Team Wallace has a lot of wasted time throwing the towels around instead of actually. You know. Dancing. Lingo gets a credible solo during Team Zhang’s performance, and even though Xiao Bao is clearly lost during a good bit of his backup dancer duties, he manages not to throw up, which – given this team’s general skill level – should be enough to give them the first round, EXCEPT SOMEHOW Team Wallace gets the point from the judges, who then try to justify this inexplicable decision by saying Team Wallace had better interaction, I guess because of the hot mess with throwing the towels around, but adding that Team Zhang was more scattered, which what? More scattered than the hot mess with the towels? I’m not buying this. I can’t tell if they’re propping up Wallace or fucking with Lay Zhang’s head, but I’m having bad acid flashbacks to the many and varied ways dance show judges will try to gaslight you, telling you that things you just saw with your very own eyes did not actually happen when it’s right there! On camera! Visible, despite whatever edit bs you’re pulling! ANYWAY, they’re definitely managing to fuck with not only Lay Zhang’s head, but Xiao Bao’s, and Xiao Bao still doesn’t seem to have his choreography down, but they manage to pull it together enough to take the second round, which to be honest is kind of a muddled mess on everyone’s part. The only one who really stands out to me on this go’round is Su Lian Ya, but OK, Team Zhang might have had it slightly more together as a unit. And then, yeah, OK, I think they were fucking with Lay Zhang’s head, because we then find out that, holy shit, the song the show powers-that-be chose for the tie-breaking third round is that gd Sailor Moon song, and we can all see the writing on the wall. Poor Team Wallace is no match for Xiao Bao, who frankly, carries this entire round on his shoulders without breaking a sweat and barely needs any backup dancers to do it. There’s some ridiculously dramatic reveal of scoring, with the judges dragging out their decisions like this was any actual contest - I’m beginning to suspect that some of them grew up with Wallace Chung posters on their bedroom walls - but finally, round and towel to Team Zhang.

Cut to a little bit of Next Time On, and wow, the first two-and-a-half-hour episode is over, and we aren’t finished with the initial round yet. It’s gonna be Christmas before I make it halfway through this season.

[maribatshipper]

Miraculous Damienette Reader Insert

A girl with H/C, H/L, H/S hair walks into College Françoise Dupont, looking for a certain bluenette, her E/C eyes glimmering as she sees the bluebell-eyed teen in one of the classes. The bell rings & she walks into the classroom & runs straight for the other girl.

"NETTIEEEEE!" She exclaims, surprising the bluenette.

The redheaded teacher asks, "Who are you? This-"

The girl laughs, "Oh, I am Marinette's cousin Y/N who just came back from Australia!"

Suddenly, a girl who's hair reminds Y/N of a horse's butt smiles, "Oh, I remember Australia. I went there last year & had some of that deliciously sweet stuff they called Vigimite."

Y/N laughs her butt off. The girl looks offended.

"That is the funniest thing I've heard in weeks! You can't even pronounce it!" Y/N laughs.

"Hey, Why are you laughing at Lila? She was just trying to connect with you!" A brunette with glasses frowns at Y/N.

"Because, this Lila girl obviously has never been to Australia. Vegemite is certainly not sweet. It is a savoury spread the locals put on bread. Next thing she's gonna be telling me is that they ride Kangaroos to school & the Koala Bear is actually a bear & they throw a shrimp on the Barbie! It's not a shrimp, it's a prawn! Kangaroos are wild animals & it's only called a Koala BEAR because it looks like a living Teddy Bear!" Y/N exclaims.

"N/N, calm down." Marinette sighs.

Y/N nods, "Sorry. Oh, you said something really important on the phone, Nettie!"

Marinette blushes, "It's nothing, really."

"We'll talk about it on the way to my apartment!" Y/N smiles.

Lila starts crying, catching Y/N's attention.

"Why are you so mean?" Lila cries.

Y/N goes full savage mode.

"Oh, forgive me. I didn't realise saying hello to my Cousin makes you blush!" She sasses.

The brunette girl glares at Y/N, "How dare you hurt Lila's feelings!"

Marinette sighs, "Alya..."

Y/N cuts her cousin off & laughs, "Seriously? If she's all upset because I love my cousin, then her family hates her, which I'm not surprised with the outfit she's wearing, & don't get me started on her hair! Are you trying to look like a dog's hind leg? You'd think that a girl who's on the magazines would at least model good clothes, & know how to MODEL! Honestly, you'd think Agreste would pick a good muse. I've seen 27 different kids here with much better fashion sense than you!"

Everyone gasps at Y/N's statements about Lila. Lila ends up crying her eyes out, but Y/N keeps smirking.

"I think you've caused enough trouble, Y/N." Alya sneers.

Y/N glares, "Like all of you have caused trouble for Marinette?" in a deathly serious voice.

Marinette hides under the table. If there is anything she has learned from the family reunions, it's that you do NOT get Y/N mad.

"You know, Marinette can sue the lot of you with what you've done. I've done my research on the lot of you. You, Alya! Your blog is crap! All it's used for is spreading Miss Rossi's lies. You call yourself a truth-seeker but you only see what you want to see." Y/N hisses.

Alya goes to object when Y/n gives her a look that can shut up politicians.

"You, Max! You believed a serviette-"

Marinette interrupts, "We call them napkins here."

Y/N continues, "A napkin could gouge out your eye! Dude, you're wearing glasses! Unless the paper had acid on it, the only thing it could've hurt is your cheek, glasses, or forehead! Use that brain you were given!" She turns to the Teacher, "Bustier, you make Marinette do all the work keeping your pupils in place, when that is your job! She's been doing everything except teaching the class. My cousin is spread as thin as Vegemite should be, & you all expect her to do more than her fair share! & don't even get me started on the texts I've seen!"

Marinette's eyes widen in shock.

"Did you say texts?" Marinette whispers.

Suddenly, a purple butterfly flies into the room & lands on Y/N's belt, absorbing it as a neon butterfly symbol appearing over her face.

"Des-"

"I'mma stop you right there, Moth-butt. YOU are one of the reasons I'm mad, so I suggest you remove this little insect before I crush YOU like one. NOW!"

The class stares in shock for a while before Y/N falls against one of the desks, the butterfly symbol disappearing & the butterfly forms again to fly away when Y/N grabs it, holds it by both wings with both hands & rips it apart, killing it.

"May that be a lesson to that man." Y/N smirks, "Now, I'm taking Marinette to my place & you can bet that your life is about to become so much harder! Somewhere out there is a tree that's working tirelessly to supply you all with oxygen. Go find it & apologise! Let's go Nettie."

Y/N grabs Marinette's hand & walks away.

***

"Now that that's out of the way, What's this about a boyfriend, Nettie?"

Marinette's a blushing mess.

"You don't have to answer my questions right now, but be careful in Paris, Ladybug." Y/N smirks.

Marinette exclaims, "What!? No! I'm- I'm not-"

Y/N laughs, "Whatever you have that fools all of Paris, even the world, doesn't work on your cousin who designed supersuits. There is also E's influence."

Marinette sighs, "How?"

Y/N ignores her question.

"Speaking of which, What Do You Think You're Doing?!"

The slightly older teenager instantly switches to lecture mode, whacking Marinette with newspaper.

"You taught me everything you know, which helped me with E, & I watched you with pride as you impress Agreste with your hat & created the album cover of Jagged Stone that hits the top of the charts like a high note, & you go running around Paris rooftops in a Polk-a-dot spandex ONESIE?! I'd think you'd at least get a decent supersuit! No more! We're going to design you a REAL suit in my office! No cousin of mine is going to be running around Paris in PJS!"

Thoroughly intimidated, Marinette stares at Y/N in shock. She barely sees this woman, & out of everyone in Paris, the family that she rarely sees figures out her identity! She just keeps staring shocked while Y/N drags her to a tall office with many supersuits lined on the walls, then takes her measurements.

"I... I don't know how you found out-" Marinette starts.

Y/N cuts her off, "I'm not going to tell anyone, Nettie. I've seen your fights against the Akumas. You're in a defensive battle, & need to keep your identity secret, even from your parents. Believe me, I can keep secrets, & I can't even tell you why."

That would be telling. Marinette knows Y/N used to be a superhero fan when she was younger, & it seems to have carried into her adolescence.

"That's not it N/N, I don't think my suit can change. I didn't design it, it's magic." Marinette frowns.

Y/N pulls out pieces of paper, "That would explain your powers, including why it took my 10 tries to recognise you. You & your partners must have Perception filters. You & Cat Noir's powers do seem to be in line with luck. Clearly you have some influence over your powers, so maybe that could extend to your suit? I mean, I did see that Pharaoh report. It's obvious your powers are older than you. Maybe even inheritable, & I doubt your predecessors wore spandex PJs."

Suddenly, there's a doorbell ring.

"Who's visiting?" Y/N asks.

She walks towards the door to see a young man with green eyes and dark hair.

"Damian Wayne? What do you want this time, Demon?" Y/N scoffs.

Marinette gapes. Her cousin knew him?

"Wondering why my girlfriend wasn't at home but was here." Damian scoffs.

Y/N turns to Marinette, who's smiling sheepishly.

"He's your boyfriend?! Now I feel kinda feel bad for putting a prank in his room. Oh, uh... Don't go in your room for the next 2 weeks, Demon. Does he know?"

Damian glares at Y/N while Marinette nods.

"Good, I can talk about it with him in the room. We'll design anyway, & you start practicing manipulating the suit’s design in private. In 2 months from now, I want to invite Ladybug to E's latest collection first hand, as some of the pieces have been inspired by her & her partners, & I do not want my cousin showing up looking like she put on an oversized toddler onesie, embarrassing herself, E, & I. If you can't change it, we'll make an oversuit with some of your boyfriend's tech. Maybe a jacket or armour. You'll look amazing!" Y/N natters.

Damian gives Marinette a deadpan look.

"What is she talking about?"

Marinette sighs, "She knows I'm Ladybug."

Damian sighs in annoyance.

"Oh please! Like it was that difficult to find out who the Batfamily was, Robin. The entire world is full of idiots. The only ones that figure it out & go public about the info end up dead. Also, I'm your family, Nettie. I'm supposed to protect you. But if your out there saving Paris, I can't do that. Just be careful, Nettie."

Marinette's eyes widen with an idea. Damian notices.

"No, Angel."

Y/N giggles at the nickname given to Marinette, remembering Damian's nickname.

"Opposites really do attract."

***

Ladybug is now seen swinging from rooftop to rooftop with a jacket with a hood that goes over her ears, with the design "La Mode" printed on the back, a new Fox hero, Kitsune, beside her, E/C eyes shining.

(Not my picture, I just googled it. Add a bit more armour on it.)

"You ready, Kitsune?" Ladybug asks.

Kitsune nods, "Ready as I'll ever be, Buginette!"

[dameronology]

the one with his new girl {steve rogers x reader}

‘summary: pretending to be over steve rogers is hard. all it takes is a few glasses of expensive wine and a conversation with his gorgeous new girlfriend before the walls begin to come down.

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, jealousy.  

on account for the spam of star wars imagines (not that i’m complaining), here is some steeb content to tide you over till i write some more avengers stuff. love u all

- jazz

No matter how many times you tried to laugh off your break-up and insist that you were so totally over Steve Rogers, you couldn’t completely convince yourself of it. It had only been four months - could you even say only? That had been more than enough time in the past for you to move on from your other exes.

But, your other exes hadn’t been Steve. He was one of a kind - the sort of guy that only came along once in a lifetime. And, he’d come and gone from yours already. It felt like you could only go downwards from here, even though you were arguably at rock bottom. The super soldier had ruined men for you. 

You weren’t going to make him aware of that, though. Tonight was the first time in months that you were going to be in the same room, and you were going to be damned if you didn’t look good for the occasion. Having spent the better part of the afternoon rotating between outfits and straightening, curling, re-straightening and then re-curling your hair, you were finally content. You were going to turn heads tonight; you were certain of it.

‘Well hello there.’ Tony Stark’s sharp voice greeted you as you stepped out the elevator. The sound of your heels against the polished marble floors had called his attention to you, mouth forming an O-shape when he saw your flowing red dress and bouncy hair. ‘Damn, girl.’

‘Hey, Tony.’ You flashed a grin at him, tossing your bag onto the counter as you passed. 

The room was already filled with a lot of guests. The air was filled with the smell of expensive chardonnay and the sound of crystal glasses clinking together. It was a party to celebrate...something. Tony was always finding an excuse to have people over and serve drinks. On this occasion, the theme had been formal - the crowd was dressed in expensive suits and long dresses. 

‘Natasha!’ You called your friend’s name, having seen her across the room with your blonde super soldier. She was wearing a tight-fitted green dress - show stopping, as always. 

‘Hey!’ Nat beamed at you, pulling you into a tight hug. ‘You look...wow.’ 

‘Thank you.’ You winked at her, grabbing a glass of wine from a trey as a server walked past. ‘Oh hi, Steve. I didn’t see you there.’

Obviously, he was the first person you had noticed when you’d walked in. He looked as good as ever in a tight-fitted black blazer and a white button up. His hair was a bit longer than when you’d last seen him, pushed back off his face and curling around his ears. He looked good - really good. Almost as breath taking as you. 

‘Hi.’ You faltered slightly as his forced smile. 

There was a girl stood beside him; she was tall and slim, her figure decorated with a gold and lace dress. You recognised her from somewhere - you followed her on Instagram. She was a model, naturally. 

‘This is Jasmine.’ Steve’s hand was resting on the small of her back.

‘Nice to meet you, Yasmine.’ You flashed a smile at her. 

‘No.’ She shook her head at you. ‘It’s Jas-’

‘- is that Thor?’ You spun around. ‘Oh, hi!’

You grabbed Nat’s arm, and she let out a small yelp as you dragged her away from your ex-boyfriend and his model-of-a-new-girlfriend. That had been out of character for you - you weren’t usually petty. But how else were you supposed to react? It was a self-defence mechanism (or maybe it was the glass of wine you’d just downed whole). 

The feeling of Thor’s arms around you was a welcome distraction. He let out a hearty laugh as he enveloped both you and Natasha in a hug, complimenting you both on your appearances. Your two friends quickly fell into a conversation about their latest mission, but you were thousands of miles away. 

You could hear Steve and Jasmine laughing from the other side of the room, chuckles melting together into what felt like a hand around your throat. That was how he used to laugh with you, even if your joke wasn’t funny. 

It was going to be a long night.

--

Two hours and six glasses of wine later, you were still with Natasha and Thor. You were lounging against the back of your chair, legs crossed over as you glanced at the ceiling, lulling in your hazy, tipsy state. You weren’t drunk drunk, but you certainly had forfeited control of any sober rationality. 

‘Anyways, I was in Paris and I saw a guy who looked exactly like that giant space bear from Star Trek-’

‘- Wars.’ You flopped your head forward to meet eyes with Jasmine. She’d been nattering away for the last half an hour about...actually, you hadn’t been listening.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She thinned her eyes at you.

‘The dumb space bears are called Wookiees are they’re from Star Wars.’ You replied. 

Steve’s blue eyes trailed from his drink to look at you, almost begging you to stop. He could already sense the tension between the group - Thor and Natasha hadn’t exactly taken to Jasmine either - and you were only making it worse. Your ability to poke at bad situations and spin them out of control had been something you used to fight over. 

‘It’s an easy mistake to make.’ He flashed his signature smile, and you felt that aching feeling return. 

You missed him with every fibre of your being. You missed waking up next to him and cuddling in bed for hours. You missed the way he’d wrap his large arms around you when you were sad and tell you awful jokes till you smiled again. You missed how he cared so much about every little detail of every little thing he did for you. He’d made you feel so loved, so safe. 

‘So,’ Jasmine took a sip of her drink, green eyes falling on you. ‘Steve told me that you used to work together?’

‘Oh, we worked together alright,’ You grinned, ‘on a three year long project. Did he not tell you?’

‘No, he didn’t,’ She replied. ‘What did you guys specialise in?’

‘Biology.’

Steve thinned his eyes at you - a moment later, he abruptly stood up. You let out a small squeak of surprise when you felt his large hand wrap around your wrist. He almost dragged you from your seat, and you stumbled slightly as he pulled you away from the table and towards the balcony. 

Given that it was the middle of winter, nobody else was out there. They were all inside, basking in the warmth of the tower. You, meanwhile, were now in the midst of the biting January air, the harsh polar breeze hitting your bare arms almost immediately. It only increased your awareness of Steve’s body heat something that arguably did not help the situation.

‘The hell are you playing at?’ He let go of your arm. 

‘What do you mean what am I playing at?’ You shot back. ‘You told your new girlfriend I was a colleague!’ 

‘It’s not a total lie. We did work together-’

‘- that’s not the point, Steve.’ You muttered. ‘It’s just...’

‘It’s just what?’ Steve’s voice softened slightly. 

‘Some stupid part of me was still holding out hope that we could be us again.’ Your voice was barely a whisper.

Letting out a groan, you fell back against the wall, hands rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm up. Steve took a step closer as you did, a look of concern etched across his features. For the first time since you’d met him, you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.

‘I didn’t mean to come across as cold.’ You continued. ‘Imagine if you were still in love with me, and I turned up with a guy who looked like he’d made been made in a lab.’

Steve pulled a face at you for a minute, and then you realised your mistake. He was the guy who’d been made in a lab. You were physically incapable of imagining somebody more perfect than him. It kind of ruined your metaphor.

‘I don’t have to imagine.’ He said.

‘Yeah, I know, you’re the one who was made in a lab-’

‘- That’s not what I meant.’ Steve shook his head. ‘I don’t have to imagine still being in love with you.’

If it were physically possible for your soul to leave your body and enter into the earth’s orbit, those words would have been the fuel. You’d imagined a scenario in which Steve re-declared his love for you, but they’d simply been midday meanderings, the kind of thing you’d thought about when you were bored in a meeting. 

‘But..’ You’d forgotten how to form a sentence. ‘Jasmine.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve been on one date, and I only brought her tonight because I was terrified of you turning up with someone.’

‘Well, I didn’t.’ You gestured to the empty space around you. ‘On account of the whole being in love with you thing.’ 

Steve smiled at you again. ‘So...’

Finally closing the gap between you, his large hands took you by the waist and pulled you towards him. You crashed your lips onto his, arms clinging onto his shoulders as he lifted you off the ground, falling back against the wall. It felt like your first kiss all over again - but at the same time, it felt like coming home after months away.

You’d planned for tonight to be showing Steve Rogers what he’d been missing - that was the point of the dress and the heels and the makeup. If you’d known that he was already very much aware, you would have skipped the whole charade. He wasn’t complaining, though. You did look good. 

‘Come home with me?’ Steve murmured against your lips.

‘Of course.’ You smiled against him. ‘I just gotta quickly explain to Jasmine the difference between Star Wars and-’

He dropped his head into your shoulder, letting out a small groan. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘No,’ you chuckled. ‘I’m not.’ 

‘But you’re going to do it anyways, aren’t you?’

‘Obviously.’ 

[tenroseforeverandever]

A Bottle of Bubbly

Characters: Ninth Doctor; Rose Tyler

Tags: Human AU; New Year’s; meet-cute; fluff; hurt/comfort;mentions of cheating; non-graphic mentions of war; drinking; strong language

Notes: Well, here I am again… fashionably late, as usual, an entry for the 31 Days of Ficmas. I wrote just two stories for Ficmas this year, and while I used multiple prompts for each, ironically, the Day 1 prompt, Snowed In, and the Day 31 prompt, New Beginnings, were the forces chiefly driving the muse for my first and second (last!) story, respectively.  

The inspiration for this story was a random prompt I found online somewhere (I don’t even remember the exact wording…) The @doctorroseprompts  prompt from the 31 Days of Ficmas, New Beginnings, was also inspiration for both main characters, although the words aren’t specifically stated in the text. But the spirit of them is strong and a guiding theme throughout the story. I also used the Ficmas prompts shopping and countdown, and the Winter Fic Bingo prompt night. 

As always, my love and gratitude to my wonderful betas, @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci. Thank-you for making me better. I’m an eternal fiddler, so I fiddled with this since they saw it… but all mistakes are mine anyway!

Summary: Rose made directly for the liquor aisle, determined that what she really wanted to bring in the New Year was a bottle of bubbly. The shop was nearly deserted, except for the unlucky few employees who had drawn the short straw for the night’s graveyard shift, so she was shocked to find another customer in the liquor aisle, standing in front of the wine shelves, his hand around the neck of the very last bottle of sparkling wine.

Read also on AO3

A Bottle of Bubbly

Rose Tyler staggered out into the night. The pub door swung shut behind her, silencing the raucous shouts and cheers and endless chatter. As she stood on the doorstep, the bubble of silence clung around her like a hug, before dissipating into the city, replaced by the steady rumble of traffic. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs and clear the spinning of her head.

She was alone.

New Years-fucking-Eve and she was alone. Not exactly how she had planned her evening to go, but she swore to herself, it was the last bloody time, Jimmy Stone, her cheating ex-boyfriend, would ever get another chance to ruin her life.

But Rose didn’t want to think about him right now. He was now officially part of her past and could rot in hell for all she cared. What she did want to think about was enjoying the rest of the night and bringing in the New Year properly plastered. She’d already made a decent start of it with a couple glasses of wine and a few shots. She supposed she could try out a few different spots (far away from Jimmy-the-Wanker), and do a regular old pub crawl, solo-style. Dressed to kill, she reckoned she’d never be without a drink in hand and would probably have no trouble finding a bloke to pull. 

A car whizzed by, drunken twats hanging out the passenger windows, catcalling at her, spouting some shite about having her “seeing fireworks all night long.” She tugged her coat tighter around herself and sighed. On second thought, shagging complete strangers wasn’t really her thing. Maybe she could meet up with Mickey, instead, at the local near the Estate. With a little coaxing, he might take her home for a cheeky shag to bring in the New Year. It wouldn’t exactly be fireworks, but it would be safe and familiar. And she wouldn’t be alone. Mickey had never been able to say no to her.

But then – she sighed, and her shoulders sagged – she’d have to explain herself, answer all his nosy questions, admit things she’d rather keep to herself for now. Everyone would know, soon enough. No doubt the Estate would be rife with the gossip of her falling-out with Jimmy by daybreak. Besides, she’d be taking Mickey away from Trisha Delaney. That wasn’t fair, doing to Trisha exactly what had just been done to her.

“For fuck’s sake,” she snorted as she stumbled onto the pavement, her head woozy with drink, “I’m worried about hurting Trisha Delaney’s feelings. The stupid cow! Clearly, I’m thinkin’ too bloody hard about this. More to the point, I’m able to think too bloody hard about this. And I’m talking to myself… Blimey, I need another drink.”

Setting out on her quest for another pub (just for drinks, no pulling, she reminded herself), she tottered down the street, swaying precariously on her too-high heels, tugging down her too-short dress as the bitter wind bit through the too-sheer fabric of her tights. This was rubbish, hopping from pub to pub. All she really wanted was something strong to drink, her warm flat, and her telly. She’d be alone, but she’d be warm and, with any luck, thoroughly pissed long before midnight.

Decision made, she hopped on the nearest bus, and half an hour later, with the effects of her earlier drinks lamentably wearing off, she trotted into the 24-hour Tesco, close to the Estate. She made directly for the liquor aisle, determined that what she really wanted to bring in the New Year was a bottle of bubbly.

The shop was nearly deserted, except for the unlucky few employees who had drawn the short straw for the night’s graveyard shift, so she was shocked to find another customer in the liquor aisle, standing in front of the wine shelves, his hand around the neck of the very last bottle of sparkling wine.

“Oi! That’s my bottle, mate!”

The man turned to her, his brow knit quizzically above his aquiline nose. “Excuse me?” he challenged in a strong Manc accent.

“That’s my bottle,” she reiterated.

“No,” he placed the bottle into his shopping basket with a tight-lipped smile, “it’s not.” Without another word, he turned his back to her and walked away up the aisle with long strides.

“Fuck,” Rose muttered through gritted teeth and rushed after his receding form. “Oi, Mister! Mister!” She caught up with him just as he reached the end of the aisle and she tugged on the battered leather sleeve of his jacket.

He swung around, rolling his eyes at the sight of her. “Oh, it’s you again!”

“Yup, jus’ me. Hello! The owner of that bottle of fizz.” She sidled up to him and flashed him what she hoped was a winning smile. She even poked her tongue between her teeth. That always had blokes dribbling on their shirts.

Much to Rose’s disappointment, the man remained unmoved, stony-faced as ever. Then with a snort, he turned and walked away from her once more.

“Oi! Mister!” she yelped, scurrying to catch up to him again. “You can’t jus’ go swannin’ off like that…”

He didn’t even break his stride. “Yes, I can. ‘Ere I am. This is me, swannin’ off.” He gave the shopping basket a defiant little shake.

Rose knew she should just give it up at this point, go back to the liquor aisle and find something different to drink, but she was determined to have that wine. After having had her night ruined, she reckoned she deserved to have something special. “Hey, Mister! C’mon! You can’t just walk away. That’s not fair. Mister! Mist– Oooph!” She nearly crashed into him when he suddenly stopped in front of her.

He spun around and glared at her. “Seems fair enough to me. W’at isn’ fair is you not lettin’ me do my shoppin’ in peace. Now, scram!”

Rose held her ground, meeting his gaze. He was a striking figure, quite a bit older than she, dark and brooding, his features unconventionally handsome below his military haircut. She should have been intimidated, but instead she found herself getting lost in the blue of his eyes as they flashed down at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I could call security, ya know! Tell them you took it from me. So, it’s your choice. Hand it over, or I’ll start screamin’ for help.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to sound tough?”

“Sort of.”

He called her bluff, “Doesn’t work,” and started walking again, but this time she tripped along by his side. She wasn’t going to let him go, not while he still had that bottle.

“Mister… I need that wine! If you knew what I’ve been through tonight…”

“You need to leave me alone. Looks to me like you’ve ‘ad quite enough to drink already.”

“C’mon, Mister. Please.”

“No! An’ it’s Doctor.”

Rose quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You keep calling me ‘Mister’. If you’re so set on using honorifics, you’d better use the right one. I go by Doctor.”

“Doctor? Is that supposed to sound impressive?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“If you’re a doctor, how comes you’re shoppin’ at a 24-hour Tesco… in Peckham?”

“I live ‘ere. Jus’ ‘round the corner.” He stopped at the deli counter and tossed some packages of sandwich meats and some cheese into his basket.

“What? On the estate? You must be new. I haven’ seen you ‘round ‘ere before.”

“That’s ‘cause I jus’ moved in this afternoon, me, and I’m having this champagne (or whatever the hell it is) to celebrate.”

“Blimey, don’t think we’ve ever had a doctor livin’ on the estate, before.” Rose narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at him, curious. “W’at’s a doctor doin’ livin’ ‘ere anyway?”

He didn’t speak, just stared at her with eyes cold as ice, and his jaw set and tense, and Rose bit her lip, wishing she could take back her brazen words. It was none of her business why anyone might need council housing.

“Erm... Doctor, you’re gonna need some bread to go with that other stuff,” she ventured, attempting to make up for her thoughtlessness, “an’ some milk and tea, maybe some eggs. And a couple cans of beans. Ya can’t go wrong wi’ beans-on-toast.” She linked her arm with his and proceeded to lead him through the shop.

As Rose nattered away to him, he maintained a detached silence, except to offer bewildered grunts to her various queries about the items she heaped into his basket. Finally, as she placed a box of tea on top of the mound, he smirked down at her, and spoke: “I hope you’re not attempting to curry favour so I’ll give up the bubbly.”

“Never gave it a second thought,” she fibbed with a cheeky grin. Honestly, she just wanted to make it up to him for being rude, but she had hoped, maybe…

He pulled the bottle out of the basket to peer at it. “It’s proper British Fizz, you know.”

“Oooh, lovely! Somethin’ a bit posh. Don’t know w’at it’s doin’ here, in a Tesco on the flippin’ estate. Guess they reckoned people wouldn’t be thinkin’ about the cost so much when they’re bringin’ in the New Year.”

“Yeah, gonna cost me an arm and a leg, this is.”

“The price don’t matter to me. Not tonight. I’d be happy to take it off your hands if you’re having second thoughts…”

“Ahem… nope.” He placed it back into the shopping basket. “Worth every penny, this. I have plans for this fizz.”

“Yeah,” Rose muttered, rolling her eyes, “so did I.”

They headed toward the checkout each lost in their own thoughts. “So, what’s your story, then?” he asked after a few moments. “Tell me, what makes you so deserving of this posh beverage on New Year’s Eve?”

Rose shrugged, her problems seeming rather small and distant, now.

“C’mon then. You said earlier, you’d had a rough night of it. So?”

“You sure you wanna hear me rattle on? It’s pathetic, really.”

“I’ve been listenin’ to you rattle on non-stop for the las’ twenty minutes, anyway. So, I’m all ears… and no jokes about these silly things hangin’ off the side of me head.”

“I would never! ‘Sides, there’s nothin’ wrong wi’ them. They suit you.”

He looked unconvinced by her compliment. “Well… out with it then,” he insisted, changing the subject back to Rose as he began to load his groceries onto the checkout counter. “I’m waitin’ on this great tale of woe.”

“Alright, you asked for it.”

“Yes, I did!”

“Okay, so, earlier tonight, I found my tosser of a boyfriend (ex-boyfriend now, by the way, and good bloody riddance!) out back of the pub, gettin’ a leg-over with one of the servers. It was humiliatin’. And you better believe I told him what he could do with his bloody– Well anyway, I ended up slappin’ him (and fuck that felt good!) and walked out. Thought about goin’ to a few other pubs, but I decided I really just wanted to go home, watch the countdown on the New Year’s Eve Fireworks programme, an’ get hammered in peace. I s’pose I jus’ wanted the wine to make me feel a bit more… special.

“And that’s about it. See? Pathetic. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She wagged her finger at him.

“Oi, not pathetic at all, Miss, erm… Blimey, I don’t even know your name.”

“Since we’re neighbors now, I s’pose I should probably tell ya, yeah? It’s Rose… Rose Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m John Smith,” he returned.

“John Smith? That’s it? Pull the other one! John Smith?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Well, if you don’t like it, you can jus’–”

“Nah, nah, nah, it’s fine. It’s nice and, erm… straightforward.” Rose couldn’t help the smile that blossomed over her face at his sudden offence. “It’s jus’ I think from now on you’ll always be the Doctor to me.”

“Fine...” he huffed, shaking his head at her as he paid for his order and gathered his bags. “Anyroad, gettin’ back to your tale: it sounds to me like you’re well shot of that stupid ape boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend. And yeah, Jimmy’s a right arsehole. To be honest, I don’t really feel all that upset about it. Thought I’d be gutted, yeah? But all I can think is that it’s no great loss. Reckon it was a long time comin’; shoulda dumped him ages ago.”

They walked out the doors of the Tesco and headed in the direction of Powell Estate.

She shrugged, adding, “I’m mostly just pissed off that he ruined my plans for New Year’s.”

“Yeah, rightly so!”

They walked in slightly awkward silence for a short time before Rose braved asking the enigmatic Doctor more about himself. “So… you’re a medical doctor, then?”

“Yup. Was a doctor in the military for years. Resigned my commission ‘bout a year back. Figured I’d seen enough…”

Rose glanced up at him, frowning concern at the tenson etched on his face again. “What are your plans now?” she asked, hoping to take him out of whatever unspoken horrors lingered in his past.

“I’ve always planned to start my own practice, me. Thought I could open one right here on the Estate.”

“Blimey, mate, it’s a war zone here too, sometimes.”

He grunted. “All the more reason you need a doctor.”

“Can’t argue wi’ that. We haven’t had a doctor ‘ere for years. The old one jus’ cleared off one day, no notice. He was just gone. His clinic is still there, though, between the chemist and the launderette. No one’s let it. Bet it’s a bargain!”

“You think?” He offered her a smug smile. “Already made arrangements, me.”

“But that’s brilliant!” Rose cheered, grabbing his arm and bouncing up and down. “When do you take possession?”

“Beginnin’ o’ next week,” he said as they strolled into the Powell Estate quad. “But it’ll be a bit before I can get everything set up properly. Plus, I have my flat to sort out. Boxes everywhere.”

“Don’t ya have some mates to help ya out?”

“Nope. There’s no one else. Jus’ me.” His words were blunt, his voice rough with emotion.

Rose watched his Adam’s apple bob heavily and grabbed onto his hand. “W’at happened? Doctor?”

He swallowed again and looked down at their joined hands.  

Rose gripped a little tighter, but he wriggled his hand free of hers, leaving behind an aching emptiness deep in her heart. She ducked her head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. I jus’… Oh, never mind.”

The strained silence returned for another minute or so as they walked, then he sighed. “Rose, war changes a person. I came back a very different man. I had plans, me. Was goin’ to start a practice as soon as I resigned my commission. Even had a place all set to go in my hometown. But I couldn’t make a go of it. Too much baggage. I haven’t been able to keep a steady job, all this time. And I lost people, good people, because they couldn’t take any more of my shit. My mates, my fiancée. One way or another, they’re all gone, and I can’t say I blame ‘em. That’s who I am, now. I drive everyone away from me.”

Rose’s heart swelled with compassion. “There’s me…”

They paused as they approached the entranceway to Rose’s building, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at her and offering a guarded smile. “Yeah, you I can’t seem to get rid of.”

“I’m just too good.” She beamed at him, poking her tongue between her teeth again. This time, she noted, his eyes drifted to her mouth.

“No, you’re jus’ too drunk.”

“Uggghh,” she groaned, “I wish. I never got a bottle from the shop, after all.”

Grumbling deep in his throat, he dug in his shopping bag and extracted the bottle of sparkling wine. “There you go. Happy New Year. Take this and go home and celebrate your freedom from that twat. Now, go on, forget me, Rose Tyler.” He pressed the bottle into her hand and turned away, striding off toward the building opposite hers.

Rose watched him go, feeling rather lost. Numbly, she headed toward the staircase of her building, the bottle dangling from her fingers. She had her prize, but somehow it seemed a hollow victory.

She stopped and turned back. The Doctor was halfway across the quad, his figure illuminated by the dim sparkle of fairy lights strung from the balconies above. “Wait, Doctor,” she blurted. When he paused, she wasted no time rushing forward to meet him.

“Thought I told you to forget me,” he growled.

She was undeterred. “I’m not havin’ you sittin’ up in that empty flat by yourself.” Impulsively, she perched up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Come to mine. Mum won’t be home ‘til tomorrow anyway, and I think we both deserve this bottle of bubbly, wouldn’t ya say? Better with two, yeah.”

“Erm…” He gazed down at her, his gruffness replaced with a sad, gentle smile that teased at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not on the pull or anything,” she insisted… a little too forcefully. “Blimey!” she laughed, her cheeks burning. “I mean we jus’ met…”

He chuckled too. “And you were trying to steal my bubbly. You’re weren’t off to the best start, anyway, to be honest.”

“Oi!” She grabbed him by his sleeve and tugged him toward her building. “Wait! Hold on,” she paused a few seconds later, sniffing the air, “do you smell chips?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Morrison’s must still be open! I want chips!”

“Me too.”

“And since you brought the bottle, the chips are on me! You’re in for a treat! Best chips on the planet, Morrison’s, an’ they’re right here on the estate. C’mon!”

“All right! Chips it is! And if we’re still hungry later, you can’t go wrong wi’ beans-on-toast.” They both laughed as he held up his bag of shopping. Then he clasped Rose’s hand in his, the gesture warming her to the core. “Lead the way!”

As they walked towards the chippy, Rose leaned her head against John Smith’s shoulder and gave his hand a little squeeze. Her evening, which had started out quite wretched, had completely turned around, and was now looking more promising than she could ever have imagined. Despite his wine-hogging tendencies, she rather thought she was going to enjoy being the Doctor’s neighbor.

“You know what, Doctor,” she grinned up at him, “I bet we’re going to have a really great year!”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

To Travel Through the World and Not Be Alone (Good Omens Fic)

Last week I asked for some more fluffy prompts, and @sparkkeyper​ suggested Crowley getting flustered and turning into a snake. Well, it looks like I’ve used up all my “Short Fic” mojo for the time being, as the result was over 10k and is available on AO3.

I really, really tried to make this one light and silly, but my brain does not operate that way, and so...a somewhat emotional deconstruction of the trope I guess?

--

Aziraphale stepped out from the dubious shelter of a sharply angled rock, shaking the last of the rain from his wings. Since leaving Eden the weather had certainly become much more variable. Days so hot his skin ached, nights that left him shaking with cold, a dryness that got into his mouth and eyes, and then – quite unexpectedly – more rain! Not as much as the first time, of course, but unpleasant enough.

The demon, Crawly, had been walking by his side, as he generally did, nattering on about the way sand moved in the wind and something about camel noses, but he trailed off as the rain began to fall. Aziraphale had lifted his wing to offer a bit of protection, until he noticed the rock in the distance, just tall enough for two man-shaped beings to crouch behind. Perfect, he’d thought and quickly gave Crawly’s hand a tug, intending to lead him over. Instead, the demon had all but run from him, vanishing into the night without another word.

Odd, that.

Stretching his arms in the bright morning sunlight, Aziraphale took a deep breath. Lovely, really, the slightly moist smell of the air after a rain. He suspected it would be even more pleasant once they found a place a bit more like the Garden itself – lush and green, rather than this endless expanse of sand, stone, and stunted trees.

He could see the humans up ahead, packing up their camp. The shelter they’d found had been no better, and Aziraphale hoped the cold and the damp hadn’t done any harm to the Woman or the child she carried within her. Quite a lot was riding on that yet-unborn human. There was still a chance the whole of humanity could end, now, here, in the blink of an eye. But the Man put a hand on the Woman’s shoulder, and she smiled, shaking her head, and helped him pick up their supplies.

As they moved out, Aziraphale began to follow after, but stumbled as some sort of black shadow twisted away into the brush, moving too quickly for him to make out. His body helpfully supplied a massive dose of adrenaline, which sent Aziraphale’s heart racing.

Steady on, he warned himself. It would take some getting used to, these human instincts, but there was no reason he couldn’t control himself. He was, after all, an angel. Aziraphale forced his breath back into a steady rhythm, expelled the unneeded chemicals from his system. That was better. He squinted at the line of dried-out bushes, then tilted back his head to scan the sky, but whatever had cast the shadow seemed long gone.

Well. Probably nothing important.

Already, the humans were fading into the distance, but it wouldn’t be difficult to keep up. Day by day, the Woman grew larger about the middle, and their pace slowed. The real danger was not accidentally overtaking them, or stumbling across them at rest and revealing themselves.

Both he and Crawly had received orders to observe the humans until their child was born. Not to protect, or disrupt, or involve themselves in any way – simply to observe. As for how to deal with each other – they’d been given no instruction whatsoever.

And so, for the past week, they’d passed their days traveling together, trailing behind the humans unseen. Aziraphale had expected it to be a time of silent contemplation, but Crawly had apparently never heard of such a thing. He constantly pestered Aziraphale with questions, tried to make conversation about topics that, if not technically forbidden, were certainly better left alone. He crouched sometimes, digging around in the sand, never saying what he was looking for. It was an annoyance, but whenever he was out of sight, Aziraphale found himself worrying. What is he getting up to now? And when will he be back?

He found he didn’t like being alone. Which was absurd – he was an angel – a Guardian. Being alone for long stretches of time was part of his job description, his very being. And yet, in the same way his body was programmed to overreact to every shadow, it also needed to have other bodies around, to see them, hear them, possibly even to touch them. Unfortunately, until the Woman delivered her child and Aziraphale was allowed to reveal himself to the humans, his only option was the strange demon who talked too much and wandered off without warning.

Just as Aziraphale was certain he would lose sight of the humans – and was making up his mind to leave without the demon, and let him find his own way – Crawly materialized, stepping out from behind a sand dune and shuffling over to Aziraphale.

“It’s about time,” the angel said in a low voice, ignoring the unwelcome wave of relief. “I hope you’re not planning to leave me waiting for you like this all the time. And where, precisely, did you go?”

“Not far.” Crawly shrugged, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Anyway. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you? We agreed not to interfere until the child’s birth – these humans been through enough, Crawly, and they don’t need you—”

“Sssss’not that.” His lips twisted as if he’d eaten something sour, then pressed flat again. “Didn’t go anywhere near them. Promise.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure he believed that, but up ahead the humans had already vanished into the heat-hazy distance, apart from the flare of the flaming sword and a long line of dark footprints. “If you say so. Keep up now, Crawly, there’s a good fellow.”

--

After two more weeks, their path began to run alongside a stony ridge. The base of it was cool, a little damp, and small flowers grew there, shielded from the sun. The humans had paused up ahead, and so Aziraphale stood watching them, grateful for a chance to rest in the shade.

Crawly, on the other hand, was causing some sort of trouble again.

“Look at these!” He tugged at one of the plants. “Have you ever seen anything like them?”

Aziraphale glanced down. Tiny flowers, just a speck of white or red on a thick stem growing out of a mass of green, low but thick. “We had much larger ones in the Garden,” Aziraphale commented. The humans were gathering rocks, it seemed, tapping them against the exposed stone of the ridge.

“Yeah, but look!” He’d been going on like this all day, digging at plants, collecting funny stones, running over to show each to Aziraphale, as proudly as if the demon had created them himself. It didn’t seem to be harmful or wicked behavior, but Aziraphale couldn’t decide what to make of it. “No water, no sunlight, barely even any soil to root in. You wouldn’t think anything could grow here. But they—oops.”

“You killed it, didn’t you?”

“No, just – look I pulled off the flower. The rest is fine.” Crawly wandered over just as the humans seemed to finish their task. The Man took the Woman’s hand – how odd, to walk like that, yet it didn’t seem to slow them down – and together they headed eastwards. Aziraphale stepped out of the shadow of the wall, and bumped directly into the demon. Crawly skittered back, clearly struggling with his own adrenaline, though Aziraphale had mastered that particular unwanted reaction ages ago.

“Terribly sorry,” the angel said, brushing his hands down his robe. Crawly’s dirt-smeared arms had left a mark, but he found he repeated the action more times than necessary. “But, please, Crawly – learn to pay attention to where you stand.” Another brush of his hands. It was soothing, in a way.

“I meant to be standing there.” The demon scowled. “I was going to show you…here.” He thrust the flower towards Aziraphale.

It was a bit unusual. Formed into a little cup, petals strangely thick to store the rare water of the desert. A sturdy little plant, a survivor, but beautiful in its own way. He plucked it from Crawly’s fingers, in order to study it from every angle. Their fingers brushed each other in passing, and Aziraphale found he was rather more aware of the contact than justified for such a minor thing. “It’s…quite nice, I suppose.”

“Good.” Crawly stepped back, fingers twisting in his robe. “Um. You can have that.”

“I see. And…what am I meant to do with it?”

Crawly shrugged. “Whatever you want. Just thought, you know. Flowers. Very angelic. Let’s go.”

He hurried along the ridge while Aziraphale looked at the flower again, fighting back a smile. Did it look better after their now, after their brief exchange of words? He found himself admiring the way the petals faded from dark to light.

“Oi! Angel!” His head jerked up. Crawly had stopped at the same spot where the humans had paused. “Come look at this!”

Tucking the flower into his sleeve, Aziraphale quickly stepped beside him, glancing over to see what the fuss was about.

“Oh, that is…” but words escaped him. Somehow, the humans had made marks in red and yellow, white and black across the stone. Not just marks, shapes.

Aziraphale could see two rough, humanoid figures standing hand-in-hand, one holding a brilliant yellow line. The sun illuminated the rock ahead of the figures, and cast a deep shadow behind. Other, simpler marks indicated parts of their journey – a hint of storm clouds, the line of the Garden Wall, a lion, crouched, ready to pounce.

“I think…” Aziraphale’s gaze traced it, east to west. “I believe this is what they call art.”

“Huh. Thought it was gonna be, y’know. Fancier.”

“Well, they’re just starting out. I’m sure we’ll see improvements soon.”

“Right.” Crawly was digging around in the dirt again, and stood quickly with a lump of charcoal. “Just need to make a few adjustments.” He rubbed the dark, crumbling stone against the ridge, making a black streak some distance behind the two figures.

“Crawly! What are you – you can’t – that isn’t allowed!”

“Oh, what, now it’s forbidden to make marks with rocks? Heaven is nothing but stupid rules these days.”

“No – yes – you’re distorting something the humans created!”

“I’m making it more accurate.” He stepped back, studying the newest figure. Thin and black, legs splayed in a funny way, arms spread by its sides. “That’s me, following behind. Hand me some red ochre, gotta do my hair, too.”

“This is, without a doubt – we’re supposed to be observers, not – not making ourselves part of the – what are you doing?”

Fingers now coated in ground-up lime, Crawly was dabbing another figure onto the stone. Brilliant white, and with a bit more care taken to the limbs, this one stood close beside the black one.

“Adding you, of course. Little me can’t be up there alone.” He glanced at the two human figures, then rubbed at his own one last time, extending the white figure’s arm to end…just where the black’s did.

Hand-in-hand.

“What do you think?” Crawly asked, rolling his neck as if he’d just finished some strenuous task.

“It’s…” Aziraphale stepped closer. “I mean, you really shouldn’t…” His mind raced, trying to think of any response that would be even remotely appropriate. This was a…a gross breach of protocol, surely, and Aziraphale had to…put his foot down, make it clear such things were not acceptable.

Instead, rather without his direction, his hand drifted over to clasp the demon’s.

Once again, it seemed the work gained more beauty the longer he looked at it. And Aziraphale found he was very aware of Crawly’s hand, just as he had been of his fingers. Crawly squeezed his hand, an uncertain, welcoming gesture, and Aziraphale felt a strange tingle, a rush of warmth roiling up his arm, filling his head. He squeezed back—

“Sorry. Gotta.” Crawly dropped his hand and bolted away, back up the path they had just walked down.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that isn’t even—!”

Vanished.

Aziraphale waited a long moment, wondering if he would return. It gave him ample time to study the wall, the little flower. His own hand.

Then, with a sigh, he followed after the humans alone.

When Crawly returned, just before sunset, he didn’t mention running off. Or the art. Or the flower that Aziraphale had carefully set aside on a rock where he had stopped to rest.

Probably best to forget it all, then.

--

More weeks passed, enough that Aziraphale lost count, and the humans came to a river.

Not perfectly clear-blue water running merrily over rocks and under sweeping trees, as they’d had in Eden, but a large brownish affair making its way between steep banks covered in reeds. There were some trees, larger than the ones in the desert, and fruits hung from them for the humans to gather. It was painstaking work, as they grew too high, or over thorny patches. Some fruits were too ripe, others not quite ready. The Woman was also in no state to be climbing trees, so the Man did most of the work, tossing fruits down for her to catch.

“I know we said not to interfere,” Aziraphale said, rubbing his palms together. Another habit that seemed ingrained in the body, but it seemed to help his worries. Perhaps he’d keep it. “But surely it wouldn’t hurt to – to lend a hand, would it?”

“Wuzzat?”

The angel turned, ready to repeat the question, until he saw something that put the humans out of his mind entirely. Crawly had tied his robe up around his knees and was walking along in the river.

“What on earth are you doing, you – you strange creature?”

“It’s hot,” the demon griped, scooping up some water to pour over his head. More of it got on his robes than anywhere else.

“Well, now you’ll be hot and covered with dripping wet clothing, does that really sound more appealing?”

“Don’t know, haven’t tried it.” Crawly reached into the water again, drenching his sleeves. He frowned as they emerged. “No, that’s…heavier. Not very comfortable. But…a little less hot.” He squeezed his sleeve, water dripping back into the river. “Could take the clothing off entirely,” he mused. “That might work.”

“Now you’re being absurd. It isn’t allowed!”

“It isn’t?”

“No! There are – Crawly there are rules.”

“Only for the humans. And look, they’re not wearing nearly as much as I am.” He tugged at his dripping garment again. “I can wrap some leaves around my bottom if that will make you feel better.”

“It’s not about making me feel better! It’s – it’s the principle of the thing. You and I should be setting a good example for the humans, not…not…” He waved helplessly as Crawly arched his back to dip his hair into the water.

“This is a good example! Problem solving! Using the available resources to make yourself more comfortable. If the humans bothered to look back and see us, they might learn a lot.” He flipped his hair forward, spraying droplets everywhere. “You wanna join me?”

“Certainly not.” Aziraphale rubbed his hand at the back of his neck, where itchy sweat was beginning to accumulate. “We have more important things to worry about right now, like—” He glanced back to where the Man lowered himself from the tree, seemingly entirely unharmed. The Woman smiled and handed him a piece of fruit, which he accepted gratefully.

“You know the humans are fine without you.”

That, surprisingly, hurt. Aziraphale found, more and more lately, he had a strong desire to join the humans. To walk beside them, to hear what they said, to laugh when they laughed. When he watched them walk away together, he felt…oddly empty.

An emptiness that vanished when he turned back to Crawly. Much as the demon grated on his nerves, Aziraphale found he enjoyed his company. When he spotted Crawly crouching in the shade of a tree, long fingers scratching at the ground, or scrambling up a ridge of stone to see what was on the top – there was always a bubble of anticipation, an eagerness to see what he’d found, to see that shining excitement in his eyes.

He felt it now, as Crawly waded deeper into the water to investigate a log floating in the current.

“I mean, m’not saying you should give up or anything, but…you can’t spend every day worrying about them. They’ll be fine.”

“Of course I spend every day worrying. I’m a Guardian, it’s my nature to want to help and protect those around me.”

“Ohhhh, is that why you’re always nagging me? Or is it because—”

Without warning, the log split into an enormous, tooth-filled jaw, lunging forward to snap at Crawly. With a yelp, the demon tumbled backwards, kicking water at the revealed crocodile, scrambling back towards the shore.

Aziraphale rushed forward, colliding with Crawly, wrapping one arm firmly over his chest to pull him back to safety; the other hand he flapped at the snapping creature. “Shoo!” he called and, just to be safe, put a note of angelic command in his voice: “WE ARE OF NO INTEREST TO YOU.”

The crocodile snapped its jaws one more time before turning away, lowering itself again to float downriver.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, trying to settle his mind. The adrenaline had flooded him again, but this time it had helped, giving him the speed he needed to react. Perhaps these instincts could be useful, if properly regulated. Unlike Crawly, who still clutched at Aziraphale’s arm, heart racing so that the angel could feel it. He pressed Crawly back a little more firmly against his own chest. “I hope you’ve, ah, learned your lesson.” He wasn’t sure what lesson exactly they should take from this, but he needed to continue his policy of blanket disapproval of all demonic nonsense.

“That thing—” Crawly started, but his voice pinched off, too tight to speak.

“That thing could have bitten your leg off,” Aziraphale chided, brushing Crawly’s torso with his free hand, making sure everything was intact. “I’m not sure if I can heal a demon at all, and I certainly can’t regrow limbs. You must learn to be more careful, my dear fellow.”

His eyes met Crawly’s enormous golden ones, and a heat rose in Aziraphale’s face that had nothing to do with the sun and the desert.

“I, uh…” Crawly very nearly blinked. He tilted his head back a little further and his breath brushed across Aziraphale’s cheek in a startling way.

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale let him go, though his arms seemed slow to obey.

Immediately, Crawly scrambled away, jumping into the thickest part of the reeds.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Crawly! Is it too much to ask that you comport yourself with a little…” But when he looked along the riverbank, there was no sign of the demon.

Aziraphale took a good long while to search – until the humans had finished their mid-morning meal and begun walking again – but all he managed to find was the usual wildlife: rodents, reptiles, a few birds.

“Typical,” Aziraphale muttered. Such strange behavior had become increasingly common as they traveled, and the angel had learned by now that if Crawly didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. Best to just keep walking while the demon got over today’s mood; Crawly always managed to catch up in the end.

Sure enough, well after sunset, a dark-robed figure slunk over to the spot Aziraphale had chosen to rest in. “Angel,” he mumbled in greeting.

“And where were you this time?” He felt another wave of relief, but sternly reminded himself not to encourage the demon. “Honestly, I half thought some river creature had devoured you, and it would serve you right for – for disturbing it…”

Crawly didn’t say anything, merely dropped onto the ground and stared at the light of the humans’ fire, far ahead. Not even a glance at Aziraphale.

When the silence had drawn on too long, Aziraphale lowered himself to sit beside Crawly. “I…am glad you’re unhurt, you know.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t know what to make of that, so they sat in silence for the rest of the night.

--

“Aha!” Crawly crowed, leaping from one rock to the next, pale skin flashing in the sunlight. “I knew this was going to be better!”

“I’m sure it is,” Aziraphale said as neutrally as possible, trying to keep his eyes on the path ahead.

“You can’t even imagine! I feel so much lighter! I can finally move!” He dropped into the river with a splash, Aziraphale turning quickly to make sure Crawly was unharmed. But, no, he stood in the shallows, tossing water all over his bare skin. “This is…Angel, you have to try this!”

“And why, precisely, would I want to do that?”

“I told you, it feels good. Washes off the sweat and – I dunno. Like the heat can’t touch you through the water. Just come down, I’ll show you.”

“Crawly, get out of there. I’m not about to see you be devoured by wildlife again.”

“It’s ffffine.” But he hopped out, dashing up the path to a fruit tree. Before Aziraphale could say anything, he’d pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.

“Crawly! No, get down, you’ll break your neck and…and…”

“Why do you worry so much?” He pulled himself higher and higher, vanishing among the leaves. “I’m a demon, I’m not going to fall unless I want to.”

“I’ve told you, I’m a Guardian, it’s my nature—”

But surely Crawly couldn’t hear him all the way up there. A head emerged from the crown of the tree, gazing out into the distance as the wind stirred his bright red hair, sending streamers in every direction. He glanced down at Aziraphale and waved and, quite at a loss, the angel waved back.

He almost wanted to join Crawly. Not with the nakedness, though his robes were getting to be something of a burden, ending each day heavy with dust and sweat. But it seemed peaceful up there, cooler. And ever since the incident with the crocodile, Aziraphale had been feeling a strange urge, to be near the demon, to touch him, to ensure that he was safe.

Perhaps it was related to the instinct that compelled him towards proximity to the humans. That made sense; lacking options, his mind was trying to reach out for the only other being available. Though that didn’t really explain the strength of the urge, or why it seemed to grow daily as they spent more time together.

Crawly’s head disappeared. Branches rustled, leaves falling along the riverbank, and suddenly he dropped onto the lowest branch, grinning like he had a secret. “Look, I know you’re hot, Angel. Just admit it.”

“Certainly not! I am perfectly content as I am,” Aziraphale lied, trying to subtly flap the collar of his robes to let in a little air. “Perhaps it is your…Fallen nature, but I am completely immune to the effects of the environment.”

“Are you? Here, catch.” Something flew towards Aziraphale’s head, and his hands barely snapped up in time to grab the oddly shaped, greenish fruit. “I think that’s a pear,” Crawly continued. “Also, pretty sure it’s ripe.”

Golden eyes sparkling with excitement, he grabbed the branch with two hands and leaned back a little with an eager smile.

Aziraphale studied the fruit, turning it over in his hands. Well. No point in being rude, was there? He raised it to his lips and took a bite.

The inside was soft, but not too soft, with an oddly gritty texture. More importantly, it flooded his tongue with a mildly flavored liquid, sweet and refreshing. He’d gotten so used to his mouth being dry, Aziraphale had stopped thinking about the discomfort, but this – this was exactly what he needed. He eagerly took a few more bites.

“Oh,” he finally said, glancing up at Crawly, who still watched from his perch. “This is absolutely marvelous.” He wiped the juice from his chin and smiled.

Crawly grinned back, swinging his legs with a bit too much excitement, but it was an infectious excitement, bubbling up in Aziraphale’s chest with every bite.

Until, suddenly, Crawly’s expression fell, as did he, dropping from the tree to scramble about on all fours, racing back the way they’d come. “Don’t wait for me,” he called when he managed to get his feet under him, and by the time Aziraphale had even turned around, he had vanished again.

Well. At least it was quieter now. Aziraphale took another bite of his pear and continued his walk.

He was, by this point, getting used to Crawly’s unexplained disappearances. He never arrived later than the following dawn, and sure enough he caught up just as the humans were settling down to sleep. Once again, he didn’t say much or even look at Aziraphale, merely crouched on the ground, watching the distant firelight.

The next morning, however, was a different story.

“Ow! Stop that, it hurts.”

“Well, I do apologize, but I need to know what’s wrong!” Aziraphale rubbed his finger again across Crawly’s now bright-red skin, peppered here and there with some truly nasty looking blisters. It was extremely hot to the touch.

“Sssstop!” Crawly tried to wriggle away, but he was firmly trapped: Aziraphale sat on his back, legs pinning the demon’s hips in place, one hand lightly on his shoulder, but ready to press it flat into the dirt if required.

“If you don’t stop moving around, I’m not going to be able to help you.”

“You aren’t – this is torture, that’s what it is. Bloody sadistic angel!”

“It would appear you have burns covering every inch of your skin. How on earth does that even happen? What were you getting up to yesterday?”

“Nothing! Just – you saw. Walking around. Wanted some space’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Ngk. Might have. Stretched out on a rock to bask for a bit at noon. Felt good.”

Aziraphale sat, considering the boiled red of Crawly’s back and his own slightly pink hands, the itch at the back of his neck. He’d been working on a hypothesis, and this would seem to be his first clear bit of proof.

“Crawly, I believe you’ve been burnt by the sun.”

“Didn’t go to the sun,” Crawly grumbled.

“This is no laughing matter. I understand burns can cause permanent damage to humans.” He brushed his fingers down Crawly’s spine, carefully avoiding the blisters, but even that was enough to send the demon squirming. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes it hurts! What have I been saying? Are you even listening?”

“I am,” Aziraphale assured him, looking for any spot that was still mostly pale. “How about this?” He pressed fingers into the side of Crawly’s ribs, just under the armpit.

“Ssssssss…not as bad, but yes.” At least he’d stopped struggling, but still Crawly’s fingers curled into the dirt, scraping deeply in the brown clay.

“If I’m right, the burn is the worst in areas that received the most exposure to the sun, and only light or incidental in areas that were shaded or protected.” There weren’t many of those. Crawly was a very thorough basker.

“Wait, really?” He started to twist around to look at Aziraphale, then cringed and looked forward again. “You think human skin can be burned just from being out in the heat?”

“Perhaps. I’m still gathering evidence.”

“Well, the humans aren’t getting burned!”

Aziraphale bit back another remark about Crawly’s Fallen nature. That wouldn’t be helpful here. “I’m not quite sure why that is,” he admitted. “But my own burns are very minor, perhaps theirs are the same. Certainly, they keep to the shade as much as possible, particularly in the hottest part of the day. Meanwhile, you are the first one to spend half the day lying naked in direct sunlight.”

“Not half the day.” Crawly whimpered a little as Aziraphale pressed his shoulders down one more time. “Seems a major design flaw, you ask me,” he grumbled.

“Hush, now.” Aziraphale lifted his hands and rubbed them together, summoning just a thin line of celestial power. “This may sting a little.”

“What? What are you doing now? Everything stings!” Another squirm as Crawly tried to pull free, but there was very little chance of that.

“I’m going to heal you, if you can hold still, you ridiculous thing.”

“Heal me?” Crawly went still and stiff. “Why?”

“Why? Because you’re in pain. What other reason do I need?” He reached a finger towards the worst burn, then hesitated. Could he dilute his power even further? “What did you think I was doing back here?”

“Dunno. Thought you were just…curious. Or wanted to learn for the humans.”

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale traced his finger across Crawly’s shoulders. It left behind a trail of bright white, which rippled out several finger-widths in every direction, a wave of healing that left behind unburnt skin. He sighed in relief. “Well…there was that, too, but I thought I’d made it clear by now, I have no interest in seeing you come to harm. Even if it is harm by your own doing,” he added, so that Crawly could be sure he wasn’t entirely off the hook for his choices.

“So…you’ll…heal all of it? Entirely? No…leaving scars so I learn my lesson?”

“Crawly! How could you even think such a thing?” He pushed his fingers to the healed skin. It was a bit darker, browner than before, with a smattering of darker spots. “Does this hurt? Or here?”

“No…it’s…it’s good.” He lay his head on the ground, seeming subdued.

“Wonderful. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Down by the river’s edge, the humans finished picking up their woven mats and bundles of food. “They’re getting away,” Crawly muttered as they wandered down the river.

“We’ll catch up,” Aziraphale assured him, carefully applying just a touch of healing along his spine.

“You’re not worried? Thought it was your job.”

He glanced up, taking another look at the Woman, her blossoming belly, the Man helping her step over a patch of rough earth. He did feel an emptiness, a need to follow them, but it felt less important, less urgent, than the task in front of him. He smoothed away a particularly horrid patch of burn, and Crawly murmured with relief, a relief Aziraphale felt in his own chest.

What was this? The human need for proximity, an instinct he still couldn’t control? His own Guardian nature, perhaps, leading him to want to protect the being nearest to him?

Both of these, yes. And something more. Something that made him wish to see Crawly running across the riverbank, carefree and smiling again.

“Why did you disappear so suddenly anyway?” Aziraphale asked, carefully working on Crawly’s arm.

“Nrrrg. Just…wanted to be alone. Don’t you want to be alone sometimes?”

“Well…yes, but…” But I’d thought we were having a good time.

“Aaaaah, s’not fair!”

Aziraphale moved to kneel beside the demon, and Crawly rolled over, sitting up so he could watch Aziraphale heal his legs. “I used to handle actual stars, you know. In my bare hands! Now look, I can’t even stand in the light of one without…this.” He gestured to his still-burned front.

“You were fine for many days, Crawly. You just have to be careful.” The bottoms of his feet were fine, at least. Perhaps the thicker skin had helped protect them. “And, I think, keep your robes on. They seem to block the burning aspect of sunlight.”

“But I don’t want to be careful.” Aziraphale released his foot and Crawly crossed his legs tightly so the angel could start on his chest. “I want to explore. Experience things, everything, now while I can.”

“What do you mean, while you can? The world is going to be here for a good long while, regardless of what happens to the humans.”

“Mmmmph.” His shoulders hunched forward from something unrelated to the pain, and Crawly looked away. “Not supposed to tell you.”

“Ah.” His thumb ran across Crawly’s throat. “Then don’t.”

“I’m not…actually supposed to do anything when the child is born. Just, watch the humans, learn what I can, and then back to Hell until they decide what to do with me.” He shrugged, still not looking at the angel.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s fingers moved slowly across Crawly’s chest.

“Guess I surprised them all, with everything in the Garden. Don’t know what to do now, right? Your side has a Plan. My side needs information, to figure out what to do. So they gave me until the humans have their child, then I go back, tell them everything. Maybe...maybe they’ll send me back to Earth. Maybe they’ll send someone else. Maybe it’ll all get locked up in bureaucracy and they won’t make a decision until everything comes burning down.”

“I see.” Somehow, Aziraphale had assumed they had the same orders.

While the humans were banished from Eden, no Word had come down whether they were to be considered entirely lost. The Archangels had determined that, regardless of the status of the Man and the Woman, it was possible their child had not been completely corrupted. So Aziraphale was to assist in raising the young human, and any others that came along, asserting as much Heavenly influence as possible.

He’d thought Hell would want the same, that he and Crawly would be working…not together, but in parallel. A Guardian and a Troublemaker, guiding the little souls.

“Is that why...you’re always running around...investigating everything? Gathering information for your side?” He kept his fingers as steady as possible, tracing across Crawly’s stomach.

“Nah. Hell barely cares about the humans, you think they want to know about...flowers, and rocks, and little ducks? The way ants follow each other in lines that go on forever? No one gives a shit. I just - I want to see it all. So...I have something to remember when I’m down there again.”

“I see.” Aziraphale wished he had something more to say.

“Except I can’t do everything! Stupid…things…getting in the way. Stopping me from…what I want to do.”

“Well, your time is limited, it’s true.” Careful strokes under the eyes, sending a ripple of healing across his cheeks. That long nose was absolutely covered in tiny darker dots. “But…I don’t think this should stop you from experiencing everything you can.”

“Everything?”

Aziraphale ran his thumb across Crawly’s chin. It wasn’t necessary – all the burns were gone – but he found he couldn’t stop himself. Each touch made him feel…jittery. Electrified.

It was like the human bodies were made for contact, fingertips picking up invisible details, the bristle of little hairs, the flex of muscles at the edge of the mouth. Look, how perfectly his hand slotted on the side of Crawly’s face, cupping his jaw and cheek, thumb moving across the sharp cheekbone.

“Hnnnnngh.” Crawly shoved him back – not hard, but enough to give the demon room to scramble to his feet. “I’ll catch up.”

And once again, he vanished.

Sighing, Aziraphale called in the general direction he’d run off to, “Just make sure you don’t lie about in the sun again, I can’t be doing this every day.”

--

Seasons changed – hotter, cooler, wetter, drier. Aziraphale hadn’t yet learned how to mark the passage of time, but Crawly explained it had been almost half a year, then explained what a year was, then tried to explain how he could tell from the stars, then gave up.

The demon’s newly-browned skin seemed more resistant to the sun, but he still sometimes burned himself if he wasn’t careful. He took to wearing his robes again, but with sleeves pushed up past his elbows. Every few days he slunk back to Aziraphale for a fresh round of healing, staring determinedly at the ground between them while the angel cradled his hands and gently rubbed the burn off his forearms, the back of his neck, his cheeks. Afterwards, he usually scurried off to sit against a nearby tree.

The humans moved more slowly now, not just because the Woman’s child was nearly ready to arrive. Sometimes they would stay in one place for days at a time, experimenting with creating shelters for themselves out of leaves or reeds or branches. When they did move, it was only over short distances, trying a little closer to the trees, then a little farther from the river’s edge.

Aziraphale found he had a great deal more time now, and not much of an idea what to do with it.

He tried keeping closer to Crawly. To keep an eye on the demon, yes, but also because…it felt right. It made the hollowness he felt vanish for a little while, particularly whenever he saw that look in his golden eyes, the burning passion that was woven into every disrespectful question, every ill-advised endeavor. It was unlike anything Aziraphale had ever seen before. More and more, he found he could hardly look away.

He felt he needed to do more. When Aziraphale found a new and interesting type of berry, he wanted to share with Crawly, find out what he thought. When he greeted the demon on returning to their resting spot, he wanted to straighten his robes, his hair, rub a bit of dirt off his cheek. When they sat, he wanted to move closer, until their fingers brushed, until the warmth of another body tickled down his side.

And yet, any time he indulged one of these whims, the need for more only grew stronger.

Disgraceful, really. Maddening. If this was some sort of human instinct, perhaps he should return to Heaven and have the body adjusted. He could ignore the body’s need for sleep, for food, for almost anything else - there was no reason this one instinct should be so much more powerful than the rest, unless something was wrong.

Besides, his actions tended to send Crawly scampering off again, vanishing for most of the day.

It was very hard not to follow.

--

After the half-moon set, Aziraphale had very little to do apart from watching the banked fire in the distance and waiting for the sun to rise. Crawly wasn’t talking, for once, lying on his back nearby, either studying the stars or drifting off to sleep.

Aziraphale thought he saw some movement in the human camp, shadows at the edge of their shelter. They sometimes woke before dawn, but rarely did much apart from hold each other and talk in soft voices. Seeing it always made Aziraphale’s arms itch in a strange way. But there seemed to be too much movement this time.

“Crawly. Crawly!”

“Whaaaaa?” He shifted in his awkward, ungraceful sprawl but didn’t turn his eyes away from the stars.

“Can you see anything?”

“Mmmmh?”

“The humans!” It was Aziraphale’s angelic instincts this time, his Guardian mind telling him something was wrong, that he was needed. “Something is going on over there, but I can’t quite make it out.”

Slowly, too slowly, Crawly rolled onto his side and glanced at the shadowy figures. “S’fine. Just moving those reed mats around.” He slumped back, wriggling around again. “You think those things are comfortable?”

“They’ve been using them every night, so I imagine they are.” Aziraphale kept his eyes on the distant figures, even though Crawly seemed to have lost interest already.

“Cuz this ground. S’really starting to make my back hurt.” He arched his spine, stretching. “Another design flaw, you ask me. S’like this body isn’t even made to be bipedal. Hurts if you walk too much, hurts to sit, hurts to lay on the ground.”

“My back doesn’t hurt,” Aziraphale lied piously. “Perhaps you’re just using it wrong. I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to just…fling your limbs all over like that. Not to mention the way you walk.”

“What’s wrong with the way I walk?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale said, a little too quickly, pressing his lips together. Lately, Crawly had been trying to swagger, but he hadn’t quite gotten it down yet. It was more a meandering progression of flailing limbs, an embarrassment to watch, and Aziraphale always had an almost overwhelming urge to pull Crawly against him and tell him to stand still.

“S’right. Nothing wrong with that.” Crawly turned back to the stars again, deep in thought.

A flare of light drew Aziraphale’s attention, but it was just the Man building up the fire a bit, crouching outside the shelter. Unusual, he supposed, but everyone got restless sometimes. Seeing the flames reflected off the Man’s dark skin, Aziraphale felt himself relax. He wasn’t needed here, a thought that was both soothing and slightly disappointing.

A few more pokes at the fire, and the Man picked up another woven mat and carried it back inside.

Aziraphale could just make out the shadowy shape of the Man offering the mat to the Woman, shifting her onto it to lay more comfortably. Once again, Aziraphale felt that itch in his arms, that ache in his chest for a warmth that had nothing to do with fire. He was often alone, in the Garden, in Heaven – but only now, wandering the world, did it have a physical effect on him. Aziraphale wondered how much longer he could bear it.

He glanced over at Crawly, and for some reason remembered a pear offered on a hot day. It wasn’t wrong to give his body the refreshment it needed. Even if the offer was made by a demon. Surely, surely if his body had a comparable need for contact, there was no harm…

Aziraphale made a decision and rose to his feet.

“Here, this should make you more comfortable.” Crawly twisted around, and Aziraphale smiled a little at the shocked expression that crossed his face. The angel shook out the mat he’d miracled up, making it snap in the wind. It was modeled after the ones the humans used, but better; Aziraphale had a little insight into materials they hadn’t yet found in the world, ones that would be a bit softer, provide a little more support.

“Angel, what are you—?”

“You’ve complained enough for one night, haven’t you? I know how to take a hint.” One more shake and the mat stretched across the ground. “Go on. See if this makes your back feel any better.” He crouched on the ground beside it and smiled encouragingly.

“Look…s’not that bad. I was just. Making conversation.” Crawly rolled onto his side, but still eyed the mat as if it might turn into a crocodile.

“Fine. Let’s make conversation. I’ve designed a new sleeping mat and would like your opinion.” He pressed his hand against it, showing how the mat compressed slightly. “Do you think the one is enough? Sometimes the humans pile a few together, but that might not provide much advantage. Come, now, I want to know your thoughts.”

Crawly’s eyes finally flicked up to look into Aziraphale’s face, then shot back down to stare at the mat again. “It’s, ah…” Crawly ran one finger along the soft surface. “It’s big enough for two.”

“Is it?”

Aziraphale doubted his tone sounded as casual as he meant it. Already the heat was rising in his face. It was, of course, a foolish idea. And painfully obvious. But these human bodies were not designed to go for half a year with only minimal physical contact. He craved it, like he craved food, rest, a comfortable seat, and he just…very much needed to feel…closeness.

He’d thought he could resist it. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

“You don’t sleep.”

“You do.” He’d seen how the humans slept, the Man pressed against the Woman’s back, arm across her protectively. He thought about it at night, and sometimes during the day. There was no reason Aziraphale should want that, no reason he should have any desire to protect a demon, and yet…he did.

“I nap. During the day. When it’s hot.”

“There must be a reason they sleep at night.” Aziraphale leaned forward, pressing his hands on the mat. It was more than just a physical need. He wanted to see Crawly smile. Wanted to feel him slowly relax inside the circle of his arms, trusting and content. He wanted to whisper secrets in the darkness, like the humans did. They had no need to whisper, there was no one to overhear, and yet they did, and Aziraphale wanted to know why. “Let’s find out. You’re the curious one.” Hands a little closer, until they almost touched Crawly’s. “You told me you want to experience everything.”

“Tempting me?” Crawly didn’t smile. He looked tense, almost panicked. Aziraphale lifted a hand to reach towards him, and the demon flinched. “I…I can’t.”

Aziraphale’s stomach plummeted, a wave of shock, of disappointment, of shame. “Crawly…”

No. He wouldn’t argue. What more was there to say? This was his foolishness, Crawly had rejected it. There was no need to drag things out. “Of course.” A wave of his fingers, and the offending mat was gone. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

Crawly still looked away, past the human encampment, away across the endless expanses of desert.

“I…didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Aziraphale said. No wonder Crawly always fled from him. He needed to learn…boundaries. Needed to learn control. His fingers had already reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind Crawly’s ear, but Aziraphale forced them to stop, hovering in the empty night. “It was never my intention to—”

Crawly grabbed his hand and, fast as anything, pressed his lips to the knuckles. Then, just as suddenly, he surged to his feet and started walking away.

“Wait!” He hadn’t let go of Aziraphale’s hand, and the angel pulled him back, so sharply Crawly nearly fell. “Don’t just – we need to talk about this, Crawly! What I’m feeling – I don’t understand it, but – if you feel it too—”

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re…let me go!”

“Crawly, please!” Aziraphale still knelt in the dirt, clinging to the demon’s hand in confused desperation. “Yes, these – these human emotions are confusing and intense, but we can’t just ignore them. It was foolish of me to try and act on them, but—”

“Don’t talk to me about human emotions, Angel, you have no idea—”

“Then tell me!” Aziraphale squeezed his hand, wishing Crawly would look at him. “Regardless of – of everything else, Crawly, I want to help. I care about you!”

The words seemed to echo through the empty plain, across the river, up to the stars above.

It really was that simple wasn’t it? Human emotions and Guardian instincts and everything else aside, Aziraphale had simply come to…care about his enemy.

“You—!” Golden eyes turned back, wide with shock. “You said – But I’m—”

Crawly jerked his hand free, stumbled back two steps, and fell.

Except that what landed on the ground was not a red-haired, pale-skinned demon, but an enormous black serpent with a red belly.

“…Crawly?”

The serpent stared at him a moment, then shot out across the desert.

“No, get back here!” Aziraphale ran after him, fast as he could go, but the black shadow moved too quickly. “Crawly, wait!” Already he was vanishing into the night. “Crawly, please! Let me help you!”

But the serpent had vanished, as Crawly always did.

Aziraphale found his legs were shaking, trembling, until he could hardly stand. Even tugging his sleeves and smoothing his robes was not enough to set things right. He stumbled across the brown sand to sit on a rock, trying to make sense of it all.

Two puzzles presented themselves: What had he just seen? And what had he just said?

I care about you. And not in a…Guardian Angel way, aloofly wishing to ensure his charge’s safety. This was something different, something not at all of Heaven. He thought of the way the humans took care of each other, as equals. Not just providing safety, but happiness, and taking it from the other in turn. There was a gentleness in their actions, hiding a deep burning passion that would quite possibly consume an angel. He certainly didn’t feel that for Crawly, but…could he? Was this how it started?

What he felt just now was worry. He knew Crawly had come to Earth as a serpent, of course, had seen that with his own eyes. He didn’t think the transformation had harmed Crawly, but…it wasn’t supposed to happen. His shift to a human form was supposed to be permanent.

And the way Crawly had transformed…the suddenness…his distress beforehand…it hadn’t seemed entirely voluntary.

As he sat there thinking, one long streamer of shadow detached itself from the night and slid closer, coiling itself by his feet.

“Crawly?” Familiar golden eyes reflected the light of the stars as the serpent’s head rose. “Can you still understand me?”

Slowly, the serpent – Crawly – nodded, then tilted his head to the side. Yes, but not well, Aziraphale guessed. That made sense; this form didn’t have ears, and demonic senses could overcome only so much.

“Are you hurt?” Crawly shook his head. “Can you…change back?” Another shake, and he looked up at the stars, slowly progressing across the sky. Not yet.

“Why…” Too many questions, buzzing around Aziraphale’s mind. Crawly was the one who knew how to handle questions. Where to even begin? “Why did you run away?”

“Sssssshame.” It was hard to make out the word in the hiss.

“Shame? But why would you feel…” Aziraphale slid off his rock, kneeling next to Crawly. “There’s…you don’t have to be ashamed.” The serpent pulled back, coiling into himself, tucking his head somewhere along his body until everything appeared to be a black knot of night.

“No, listen. I’m the one who should be ashamed.” Aziraphale reached a hand towards the cool black scales, but stopped just shy of them. “I…I have behaved reprehensibly. Saying…all manner of things. Touching you when you didn’t want to be touched. And my actions tonight…no. It was my choice to – to indulge, to explore these new emotions, but I never should have attempted anything without seeing if you felt the same. Crawly, I never wanted to upset you…”

As he spoke, the narrow head emerged from the coils and shook, indicating a negative.

“No? Am I…wrong about something?”

A nod, but Crawly wouldn’t meet his eyes.  Something worse, perhaps? “Can you…tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Ssssss.” This time he could decipher nothing.

“That…let’s try another way.” Once again, Aziraphale stretched out a hand. Crawly pulled back his head, looking at it uncertainly until Aziraphale lowered it back to the ground. “Sorry. You don’t want to be touched, do you?”

A nod, followed by a complicated ripple down fifteen feet of serpent that might have been a shrug.

“Alright. Let’s see…did this happen all those times you ran off?” A nod. “And…do you have any control over it? Changing to this form, I mean.” A shake. “What about changing back?” A head tilt and another rippling shrug. What did that mean? Some control? He wasn’t certain if he had control?

Well, that wasn’t important right now.

“Do you know what…causes this?” Nod, again not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Can you tell me?”

“Sssssssss.” A defeated head shake.

“Well…I know it was usually when we were talking, or when I…reached out or…” He swallowed. “It’s my fault?” Of course it was. It was so blindingly obvious. Foolish Principality, invading Crawly’s space again and again, driving him away, forcing him to change form.

But Crawly shook his head frantically. “Sssssss.” This one sounded frustrated. “Ffffffff. Fffffeeeel.”

“Feel?”

“Ffffeeeel. Hhhhhhaby.”

“Feel happy? Feel…Crawly, are you telling me you – you change into this form every time you feel happy?” A nod, this one eager. “But you’re always happy! Or most of the time. Not tonight, though, you were very sullen and…”

But Crawly shook his head again. “Hhhhhhhaby.”

“You were happy?” Nod. “That…I came over with that mat and…?” Nod. “And that I said I…care about you?” Nod, and his snout moved a little closer to Aziraphale’s face.

“So, you change when you’re happy. Very happy, I assume.” Nod. “And…I’m the one who…?” Another nod, this one looking more embarrassed.

Aziraphale lowered his gaze, feeling strangely pleased that he could have this…incomprehensible effect on another being. Oh, it wasn’t something to be proud of, but it made that warmth surge inside, to think that of all the things that made Crawly happy...

“Ah. But. Um. Why change? You said it wasn’t because you wanted to.” Head shake. “Then why?”

“Sssssss.” Crawly drooped. Whatever it was, he couldn’t explain it in this form.

“Never mind then.” Aziraphale stood up again, dusting off his robes. “Ah. How long to change back? You’re usually gone for hours.” A nod. “Oh.” Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, back towards the human encampment. Surely…they would be fine on their own…for one night. “Should I stay with you?”

“Ssssssssssss.” The serpent pulled back into his coils again, but, after a long pause, emerged to nod slightly.

Aziraphale smiled, settling back onto the rock. “It’s my pleasure, dear fellow. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

“Ssssss.” Crawly reached forward and rested his head on Aziraphale’s knee. “Ssssss?”

“Oh.” Serpents were, after all, much simpler creatures than humans. A human body needed many things to be happy, physically, mentally, and emotionally, as Aziraphale was rapidly learning. But a snake only desired heat. “Yes. Of course.”

Crawly darted forward, twisting himself up Aziraphale, wrapping around his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, tail twisting down around one leg, head coming to rest by his cheek. Aziraphale managed to get one arm free, the other pinned against his ribs. A squeeze went through Crawly’s body, gentle and brief, as he settled into place. “Ffffffffffine?”

“Yes, this…this is perfectly fine.” He scratched one finger carefully on the back of Crawly’s head. The serpent leaned into it, then shook free to tuck his head under Aziraphale’s chin. Another brief ripple of a squeeze, before bit by bit Crawly drifted off to sleep.

“Have pleasant dreams,” Aziraphale said, fingers stroking the black scales wrapped around his belly.

It wasn’t what he’d imagined. And yet, Aziraphale did spend the night with Crawly pressed tightly against him. He did provide his companion with comfort and safety.

Not at all how he’d thought it would happen, but Aziraphale was still radiantly happy.

--

“Itsssssstupid,” Crawly muttered, still lisping a little after his change back.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Just tell me.”

Crawly had awoken just as the stars had begun to fade, quickly twisting free of Aziraphale to transform back into his usual shape. He’d explained, somewhat embarrassed, that sleeping usually helped him change back quicker, and that sometimes he even woke up back in his humanoid form. This had presented Azirapahle with a very interesting mental image that he didn’t have time to indulge just now.

Crawly walked beside him, golden eyes darting in the pre-dawn light, reading Aziraphale in an instant before turning to stare at the ground again. “It isssss.” Crawly clenched his jaw and continued more carefully. “Sspent too long in the sserpent body. All that time in Hell. But. Ssnakes don’t…have emotions. Not like human bodies. Sso…I get…overwhelmed. And I can’t hold my shhhape anymore.”

“I see.” Aziraphale carefully studied Crawly out of the corner of his eye, almost afraid to look at him straight on. “And all those times you ran away?”

“I can ssort of…feel it coming. I have a little time to get away, but there’ss nothing I can do to sstop it.” He swallowed, seeming angry with his own mouth. “Stop it.”

“But why would you need to get away?”

“Ngh. I mean. You’re the enemy, I’m not supposed to…” Aziraphale couldn’t hide his pained expression fast enough, as Crawly’s eyes flicked over again. “And…it’s embarrassing. Don’t want to be that snake anymore. This is me now. This body.” He took a breath. “I…didn’t want you to think less of me. Because I can’t control myself.”

“I would never!” Aziraphale stopped walking entirely, but managed to fight down the urge to grab Crawly’s shoulders. “My dear fellow, we’re both learning to control ourselves here. You might be struggling with it physically, but I assure you…” He thought back over the choices he’d made since leaving the Wall. Things he’d said, ways he’d reached out and pulled back with almost no warning. Blaming it on urges and instincts, but he could have resisted if he’d wanted to, could have spoken about his feelings, could have done many things that were better, wiser, kinder. “I thought there was…something between us. Some understanding. But I was completely unaware of your struggles the whole time. I have been abominably selfish.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Crawly watched his toe trace lines in the dirt. “I think this…whatever it is, that makes you act the way you do and makes me so…mind-numbingly giddy I can’t keep my shape…I mean. It’s meant for the humans. We’re the first angel and demon to feel it. Of course it isn’t easy.”

“But…you do feel it, too?”

“Think so, yeah.”

Aziraphale tried to fight back the smile, but there was no stopping it. He turned away, preserving at least a little dignity. “So…what do we do about it?”

“Dunno.” Then, softer, “I want to touch you. Your hands, your face. I’d only...you know…but I want to.”

“I as well. It’s…I’m resisting but…it seems to grow harder every day.” He smoothed his hands down his robe. “Do you suppose it will always be this way? Between us? With every being we spend enough time around?”

“I hope not. It wouldn’t feel as…important if it were common. And it’s…distracting. I miss just talking.”

“As do I.” Aziraphale turned back in time to see Crawly’s smile. “I suppose…if it’s a question of the human-shaped corporation, you could always have it adjusted. Remove the troublesome emotions.”

“No!” The vehemence of Crawly’s voice startled him. “Aziraphale, that’s the last thing I want. I told you before, I want to – to experience everything this world has, including stupid human emotions. I don’t need them taken away I need…I need to build up a tolerance.” He nodded, staring ahead. “That’s it. A little at a time until…until…”

“Until you can feel whatever you want. Without…repercussions.”

“Nh. Don’t know how I’ll pull it off but..yeah. It, ah…” Another quick glance. “What about you? Probably help with your angelic duties if you didn’t have to worry about…all this.”

“It probably would.” They started walking again, slowly, side by side. “But I think…I think I would also like to experience all this world has to offer. And I can learn to control myself.”

They continued in silence for a little while, each lost in his thoughts.

“Do you think it will take much longer?” Aziraphale asked, twisting his fingers.

“You definitely need to learn patience, Angel.” Crawly grinned. “Yeah. Um. Remember when I tried to explain what a year was? Probably lots of those.”

“Ah. Is there…anything I can do to help?”

“Ngk. Well. You—”

A high-pitched scream echoed from the camp ahead, long and drawn out.

“The humans!”

They both took off at a run.

--

In the end, despite half a year of careful observation, Aziraphale and Crawly did very little. By the time they arrived it was nearly over; by the time they’d finished awkwardly re-introducing themselves – and convincing the Man not to skewer them on a flaming sword in a blind panic – there wasn’t much to be done except provide encouragement.

The Child was born, a healthy young boy who shouted quite indignantly at the inconvenience of it all.

The human race had truly begun.

Much later, as the Man and Woman rested, Aziraphale held the tiny baby in his arms. The boy had settled down somewhat, now that he was wrapped tightly and warm, and looked in danger of falling asleep in the angel’s arms.

“How does it feel?” Crawly asked, sitting at the edge of the camp.

“Oh, I can’t – it’s incredible, Crawly. I know he’s just a little thing but – I can feel it, his presence, his potential. Everything he can be, good and bad, and it’s just—” The baby opened his mouth in a wide yawn. “…It’s adorable.”

“You’re pathetic,” Crawly said, but with a smile, rising to stand closer, peering over Aziraphale’s shoulder at the Child. “So? Everything there? I know you spent about an eternity counting fingers and toes. Didn’t think it took that long to get to twenty.”

“They’re just the most precious little things! Look – look at his ears.”

“I’m looking.” One hand stretched out uncertainly, tracing along the Child’s cheek. The baby turned his head immediately, searching, sucking on the fingers he found. “Look at that. Not even a day old, searching for food, trying to survive. They just…they just keep going, huh?”

“I suppose so.” Holding the Child filled an emptiness in Aziraphale he hadn’t known was there, not the strange magnetism that drew him to Crawly, but that deep desire for connection, the need to walk with the humans, to be known. Accepted. Though it wasn’t all that different, he reflected. Two sides of the same…two-sided object. A need to not be alone. “Do you want to hold him?”

“Angel…” Crawly’s hand drifted back to the Child’s head, resting on the nest of dark downy curls. “Aziraphale. I really don’t think I can.”

He turned around, and was surprised to see tears in Crawly’s eyes.

“Sssstupid, huh? Child’s got nothing to do with me. But…” He turned abruptly and walked away from the camp.

“Crawly, wait!”

“Nope. This was it, Angel. Just on Earth until the kid was born.” He turned back and shrugged, arms spread wide.

“That doesn’t mean you have to go now.”

“I can feel them calling already. In here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Longer I wait, more likely they’ll send someone to get me, and that’ll just be...messy. And what am I supposed to do now, anyway? Sit here and watch you...carry him around...wishing I could...” He bit his lip. “What would be the point?”

“But…but I thought…”

“Yeah, I thought, too. But what can we do?” Crawly looked down at the ground, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Look. Take care of them, alright? They don’t need your help. They’re smart. But…be kind. S’what you’re best at.”

“But…” Aziraphale looked down at the future of humanity in his arms. “Is that enough?”

“It’s everything.” Crawly stiffened, clenched his fists. “Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale took a step forward, and immediately the Child started fussing, sensing his anxiety.

“Well. Guess it’s not just happinessssss.” He swallowed hard, clearly fighting something. “Look. Angel.” Crawly walked back to hover beside Aziraphale again. “I – I really liked working with you. I hope…If I get another chanccccce…” He shook his head, then leaned in and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek.

It spread across his face, a warmth, a blush, a smile, blooming like a flower.

Aziraphale turned his head, catching Crawly’s lips with his own. He’d seen the humans do this from afar, and he’d wondered why, but now…

Now he knew.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Crawly was gone, and a large black snake slithered away, fast as a shadow.

The Child started to cry. Aziraphale rocked him, bounced him a little. “No, dear, don’t worry. We’ll see him again.” The taste of Crawly was still on his lips, new and intriguing. “Nothing ends today. This is the beginning of our story.”

--

Thank you for reading! If that ending wasn’t satisfying enough, I recommend the fic Snuddles (Snake Cuddles) as a very distant epilogue.

[neon-junkie]

some shy!Flaco and gn!Reader for y’all

Also a modern setting cause I LOVE the thought of Flaco driving around in classic cars with big snazzy sunglasses on 8) 

Modern Flaco is 100% a retired movie star. He used to play the antagonist role in classic western films. Whenever a western came out, people would say "I bet Hernández will be playing the villain again," and surprise surprise, he is. Everybody loves it though, he's good at what he does and very famous for it.

Only issue is, Flaco hates the fame. He played in those movies because he wanted to. The money was a bonus, but the fame is a downfall.

So many people would kill to be in the position he is/was in, and the thought makes him chuckle. It's funny how life works.

Flaco lives in Hollywood, as cliche as it is, but he loves being able to drive down scenic routes, to drive past his old studios and set locations, and to have everything he enjoys at his doorstep.

He owns a really nice 1961 Chevrolet Impala. It's black with a red interior, and he spoils that thing cause it's his one true love.

Flaco rides around often with the top down, cigarette in one hand, other hand on the steering wheel, with some big bad boy sunglasses on. He's quite the sight and he knows it.

But he ignores everyone. Bunch of women fawning over him at the traffic lights? Ignore. Idiot in the car next to him revving his engine, wanting a race? Ignore.

He once accidentally ran over Micah Bell and didn't give a shit. He shouted "watch where you're going, blondie!" and looked in his car mirror to see Micah picking himself off the road. He was fine.

Flaco has a loose routine, and every Wednesday, he picks up Black Belle from her fancy mansion and they go get something to eat. He always picks her up around midday, and their meetups can take anywhere from an hour to all day.

Belle met Flaco many years ago when they were put on set together, and they've starred in a few films over the years. Belle doesn't mind the fame as much, she's happy to sign autographs and pose for photos here and there.

The two usually get some form of lunch together, though most of the time they day drink and get hammered by 3pm. Flaco just gets a taxi back to Belles and passes out on her sofa, cuddling her Irish Wolfhound. He then walks and picks up his car the next day, or the day after, depending on the hangover.

"Where we going today, Hernández?" Belle asks as she gets in his car. It's her usual greeting for him.

"How about we do exactly what we do each week, and drive around until we pick somewhere?" Flaco suggests, as always.

So the two of them do exactly that. They cruize around, fussing over where to eat.

Flaco always keeps a carton of eggs in his glovebox, as gross as that is, just so him and Belle can throw one at Little Boy Calloway whenever they see him. He's a sellout, a washed-up, grumpy old man, and they love to torment him for being such a wuss.

Flaco drives by this small cliche American diner on the corner of one street. As always, the traffic lights change so he has to wait a while, but he'll peer in the window, eyes glistening at that young server inside.

"They're far too pretty to be working in there, BB," Flaco tells Belle, as always.

"Here we go," Belle mocks, rolling her eyes. Flaco does this every week, driving this specific route just so he can enjoy his five-second gaze at you through the window. You've never noticed, surprisingly.

"They'll be mine one day, just you wait," Flaco grins, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose as the lights change to green.

"How about today, huh? Let's go inside," Belle suggests.

Flacos gaze quickly flicks over to Belle. "You crazy?!" He shouts.

"I am, and so are you. Come on, pull up here," Belle points at the car park just down the street.

Flaco's mumbling under his breath but he does it anyway. Belle always gets her way, he's a sister to her, and Flaco's an only child so it's hard for him to deny his adopted blood.

"I'm not even dressed nice. I look scruffy. Why can't we just go another day?" Flaco grunts as he parks.

"You wear the same damn thing every week. Now come on, quit your moaning," Belle says as she gets out of the car.

"No, I don't! I'm wearing new pants this week, look," Flaco says as he points to his jeans.

"Oh wow. New pants that look exactly like your old ones? You're really dressed to impress here, ain'tcha?" Belle teases.

Belle leads the way, hurrying Flaco along, teasing him over and over. "You gonna ask for their number? Ask 'em out on a date? Maybe you can take 'em for a ride? Hm?" She pokes and prods at him. Flaco stays silent, frowning, his sunglasses covering up half of his sulky face.

Belle's energetic when she enters the diner, greeting you with a smile and asking for a table for two. You talk to them in your customer service voice, seating them at a booth by the window.

You know exactly who they are. Who doesn't? Though you haven't seen all of their movies, you know the stuff that they've been in is really good, classic western films. A genre that you've studied at college.

Flaco takes his sunglasses off, placing them on the table. He keeps his gaze down and tries to focus on the menu you've placed in front of him.

"Would you like anything to drink?" You ask them.

"A chocolate milkshake please, sweetheart," Belle smiles at you. You've heard that she's a kind woman but you weren't expecting her to be this friendly.

"Sure. And for you?" You ask Flaco, who keeps his gaze down.

"Ermm. Uhh. I'll just have the same as her," Flaco replies, quickly brushing you off.

You tell them you'll be quick with their drinks and leave them to it. You assumed Flaco was just tired, maybe his reddened cheeks is from the heat outside?

"A milkshake?" Belle mocks once you've gone into the back. "Hernández, you hate milkshakes!" She laughs.

"I panicked, alright?!" Flaco grumbles.

"Why don't we call her back over so you can fumble about even more as you change your mind?" Belle teases.

"No!" Flaco almost shouts. A customer nearby jumps out of his skin, intimidated by Flacos deep and sudden voice.

"Alrighhttttt," Belle grins. "You make sure you know what you really want to eat though," Belle talks to him in a baby voice. It always winds him up but since they're in public, Flaco can't make a scene and playfight back.

You bring the drinks over and the two of them thank you, Belle smiling up at you whilst Flaco keeps his head dipped down. "You ready to order?" you ask, and they both nod.

You take their orders and everything seems fine, so you head back into the kitchen to hand them over to the cook.

"You not want a side order of their number with that, Hernández?" Belle grins again.

"I should never have agreed to come here. You are the most embarrassing woman I've ever met," Flaco sighs, looking at Belle with the most blankly frustrated look he's ever pulled.

All Belle does is grin and enjoy her milkshake, urging Flaco to drink his own.

He does, and he can't handle the sweetness. But Flaco drinks it anyway, not wanting to make any more of a mess than he's already in.

The rest of their time there goes smoothly, enjoying their food and nattering away. Flaco slowly relaxes, but Belle notices the way his eyes flick to watch you every time you appear.

"So, you gonna ask? or have I gotta do it for you?" Belle asks.

"Why don't you feed me whilst we're at it? Maybe drive me to the bar so I can get blackout drunk and try to forget this humiliating experience?" Flaco groans, half chewing his food. He doesn't care and Belle's used to seeing him talking whilst he eats.

"Fine, I'll do it then," Belle rolls her eyes. Flaco goes to stop her but it's too late, she's called you over.

"We'll take the bill when you're ready, sweetheart," Belle tells you.

"Sure, no problem." You're about to walk off but Belle speaks again.

"Flaco, ain't there something you wanted to say?" Belle asks, grinning from ear to ear as the two of you look at him.

"Oh, erm..." Flaco mumbles, quickly wiping the ketchup off his stache with a napkin. "Could... could you send my compliments to the chef, please?" He asks.

"Of course! She'll be happy to hear it," you smile at him, quickly turning away to head into the back.

"Hernández!" Belle kicks him under the table.

"You can't put me on the spot like that!" Flaco frowns, trying to keep his voice down again.

"Fine, I give up," Belle sarcastically sighs.

"You do?"

"Yep," she shrugs. "You've won, Hernández. You'll have to pick them up in your own time," she sighs.

"Hmm. I've known you far too long to know that you don't give up this easily," Flaco squints.

"Nope, I've truly given up. No point wastin' my time when you won't co-operate," Belle shrugs again.

Flaco's suspicious but leaves it.

The two of them pay and leave, giving you a fat tip that makes your eyes sparkle. Belle insists you take it, Flaco nodding in agreement but still staying quiet.

Finally, they head off, leaving the diner and heading back to the car.

"Oh, shit! I left my purse in the diner," Belle sighs. "I'll meet you at the car, alright?"

Flaco's about to say he'll just come back with her but she's already ran across the street, flipping off the stranger that almost ran her over.

Flaco rolls his eyes and heads back. He starts the car, putting on his sunglasses and lighting a cigarette.

Belle comes round the corner, grinning from ear to ear.

'I knew I couldn't trust her, what's she done now?' Flaco thinks to himself.

"Why are you smiling?" Flaco snaps as Belle gets in the passenger side.

"This is for you," Belle mischievously grins, handing Flaco a piece of paper with your number on it.

"BB, why you gotta put me on the spot like this, huh? This is so embarrassing," he shakes his head, taking out his wallet so he can put the piece of paper away safely.

"Oh, don't you worry. They said they get just as nervous as you do," Belle tells him as she puts her sunglasses on, leaning her arm on the car door.

"They do?" Flaco asks, seeming surprised.

"Course. It's that natural attraction, Hernández," Belle teases.

"Oh, shut up you," Flaco swats his hand.

Maybe one day he'll be able to get her back, but for now, he needs to work up the confidence to call you.

[gwen-cheers-me-up]

Gwen and Merlin 1a for the writing prompt????

Prompt: Gwen & Merlin + “Are you warm enough?”

Tysm for the request 🥰💕 Hope you like it!

“Are you warm enough?” Merlin peered at Gwen through squinted eyes as if he could somehow judge her temperature through sight alone. Her face was drawn, curls astray, but she looked cozy bundled up in so many blankets. Still, there was something missing...

Merlin nodded when he figured it out, tugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “That’s better.”

“Merlin,” she protested, but her twitching lips gave away her amusement. “This is more than enough, really.”

“Are you sure? I can get more.”

“Can you?” she asked, disbelieving. “These are all of the blankets in my house. I know you wouldn’t take Gaius’ blanket, and you’ve already given me yours. Unless you’re planning on raiding the castle or giving me the shirt off your back--”

“I’ll do it,” Merlin threatened, fingering the hem of his tunic. He was already plotting how to steal Arthur’s blankets and sheets without him noticing.

Gwen laughed, and it was a beautiful sound, even with her nose stuffy and throat sore. “I’m fine, Merlin. Don’t you have work to tend to?”

Merlin perched on the chair at her bedside, lifting a cup of water to her lips. “You are my work today.”

It was true. Gaius had looked Gwen over late last night and proclaimed her illness to be the common cold. It was simple enough to treat--keep her warm, feed her broths, fetch her water--so he gave Merlin the responsibility, knowing Merlin would be fussing over her anyway. What he didn’t realize was that Merlin would be stressed out of his mind with worry that he was doing something wrong or that he wasn’t as good as Gaius would have been. Covering for Gaius was nerve-wracking any day, but this was Gwen. She deserved the best care in all of Camelot, nay, Albion. She certainly deserved better than a half-trained apprentice who had spent more time learning illegal magic than herbs.

Merlin set down the water after Gwen had taken a few sips. “I can get Gaius if you’d prefer,” he said for the hundredth time that morning. Needing something to do with his hands, he started fidgeting with the corner of a blanket that had slipped off of her lap.

Gwen wriggled until her arm was free from the cocoon and clasped Merlin’s fingers to make him stop. “You’re doing a wonderful job, Merlin. I was actually thinking of Arthur.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes?” Gwen said, looking like she was concerned for Merlin’s health as well. “You’re his manservant?”

Merlin’s brows crinkled. “I know that. Do you really think he’d make me come into work while you’re in my care? He was so worried when he heard you were sick, I thought he was going to pick up an anatomy book himself.” 

Gwen laughed, making a face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

Merlin cracked a grin. Then, remembering his responsibilities, he took the corner of the blanket that had escaped from the Gwen bundle and wrapped it around her exposed hand. 

“You’re silly,” she said, but she allowed her hand to be blanketed. 

By the time Merlin was satisfied, Gwen’s eyelids were drooping with sleepiness. “Terrible is what I am,” Merlin said, “keeping you awake with my nattering when you’re supposed to be resting.”

Gwen glared at him, an expression that looked out of place on her peaked face. “You stop that, Merlin. You’re an excellent physician and the best friend I could ask for, and I’m very glad to have you here with me.” 

Merlin’s protests died in his mouth at the affectionate reprimand, and he sheepishly slumped back in his chair.

Gwen nodded in approval. “You shouldn’t worry so much. It’s not good for you.” 

It was Merlin’s turn to glare. “If worrying is bad for me, it’s definitely not good for you right now.”

“Then you’ll just have to stop giving me anything to worry about,” Gwen said sweetly, still impossibly commanding while swaddled and sick. She would make a great queen one day.

Merlin huffed, trying to sit still to demonstrate how relaxed he could be. Soon, however, his knee began to bounce and his hands itched for something to do. He kept feeling like if he did just one more thing then Gwen would glow with health and Merlin wouldn’t have to fret that he was mucking everything up.

Gwen, sensing his poorly concealed distress, smiled and said, “Read to me?” She nodded her head toward a book on a nearby table.

Merlin sent a relieved smile her way and grabbed the book. It was a collection of children’s stories, the pages worn and stained with use. “Any requests?”

Gwen was struggling against the warm embrace of sleep, so her voice was soft and mumbling as she said, “The one about the blacksmith’s daughter who becomes a knight.” 

Merlin had never heard that story, so he was curious to read it himself. It was a fitting choice for Gwen, given her strength, loyalty, and unfailing goodness, and he wondered if she had ever wanted to be a knight. He couldn’t imagine Arthur would deny her, even with his sexist pigheadedness. Arthur knew a skilled fighter when he saw one, and it wasn’t like he had ever been good at denying Gwen anything.

By the time Merlin found the right page, Gwen’s breath had evened out in sleep. There were no stories in the collection about a blacksmith’s daughter, so it had taken him a while to find the one she meant. He read the knight’s tale in a whisper, replacing the farmer’s daughter with the blacksmith’s, the way Tom must have done when he told it to Gwen. 

Merlin glanced up at his friend from time to time, his anxieties easing with every breath she took. When he finished the story, he said a few words in the language of the Old Religion. They weren’t healing spells but prayers--the kind his own father had spoken while tending to Arthur. Merlin had never been one to pray before, but it felt right to call upon Balinor’s caregiving energy to pair with Gwen’s father’s. To acknowledge their shared loss in a way he couldn’t while Gwen was awake. 

Merlin read the story two more times before his own eyelids began to droop. It seemed his nerves and lack of sleep the night before had finally caught up with him. Setting the book on the bed between them, he whispered one more prayer and then settled into his chair. It wasn’t the most comfortable resting spot, but he wanted to be nearby if Gwen needed anything.

He dragged an eye open against the force of his exhaustion to get one final reassurance that Gwen was alright. Seeing that she looked to be well on the path toward recovery, he reached forward to clasp her blanketed hand and let his eye fall shut, a soft smile on his lips.

~

Thanks again for the request! This was so lovely to write 🥰 Click here to request a gen fic 💖