#blatantbalderdash

[bastionkeeper]

Write me the sweet boy detective, Angus McDonald. (If you got any ideas, I mean, no pressure!)

"-so, I won't spoil anything, but the ending has a really great twist! You just gotta read it!" Angus practically bounced with excitement as he and Lucretia walked, headed towards the rustic (and one might even say, hospitable) house nearby with the fenced off yard full of dogs of all shapes and sizes. He had the new Caleb Cleveland novel in hand, and with Lucretia accompanying him to visit Magnus he even had someone who enjoyed listening to him talk about it!

"Well, it sounds very good," Lucretia said with a smile.

"It is! I'll loan it to you once I've read it a second time," Angus said. "I like going over each one a second time, to mark all the hints and clues that I didn't notice the fir-"

"MAGNUS!" 

Before the young detective could finish talking, a grown ass man fighter just looking for an excuse to use his rogue talents, jumped out of seemingly nowhere and snatched up the book.

"Go long!" He shouted, tossing the book over Angus and Lucretia's heads and into the mage hand of one Taako the wizard, standing behind them.

"Oh jeez… oh jeez I really thought we were done with this," Angus sighed with exasperation.

"Gotta keep you on your toes," Taako replied with an amused grin. "It's constant training, you know. Us adventurers, we've got a lot of experience to share, you're welcome."

"Throw it back!" Magnus shouted, jumping up and down excitedly.

Angus, who looked thoroughly unamused, popped the latch on the gate to Magnus's yard. He then put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. 

Magnus went wide eyed with surprise as every dog he was currently in the process of training responded to a command he had definitely not taught them and ran from the yard to tackle him, tails wagging.

"Did… did you…?" Lucretia asked, mouth agape.

"Did I sneak into Magnus's dog school every night for two weeks and secretly train his dogs to intervene in games of keep away? That would just be ridiculous!" Angus said, looking smug as Taako cast levitate, shouting in distress at the pomeranian currently hanging off one of his boots and growling fiercely.

"It's so cute, but so inconvenient!" Magnus bemoaned/laughed as his face was licked by a dozen dogs.

A German shepherd happily trotted up to Angus's side, carefully holding the book in his jaws. Angus gave the dog a treat from his pocket in exchange for the novel and gave him an affectionate pat on the head.

[bastionkeeper]

i so loved ur angus story, so many good memories! love to read more

It was pretty fun writing TAZ again :3c here have some found family cause I’m a sucker for it

“Okay, so first off don’t carve towards yourself, unless you wanna lose a thumb,” Magnus chuckled, adjusting Angus’s grip on the knife. 

“O-oh! Yeah, that would be bad,” Angus said nervously. “Um… maybe I’m just not any good at this? I don’t know if it’s my thing…”

They were sitting out on the front porch of Magnus’s home, the sun was setting and the dogs were starting to wind down and return to their kennels to sleep. Magnus had pulled out some wood to carve and Angus had asked how it was done, not expecting to be given a piece of wood all his own and some hands on training.

“Maybe it isn’t your thing, but you don’t know that the first time you try,” Magnus said softly, smiling encouragingly. “You’re not gonna be perfect at everything right away, so be patient with yourself. Just try, and mess up a few dozen times before you decide you don’t want to do it anymore.”

Angus squinted down at the wood, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he considered those words.

“So go ahead, carve something,” Magnus encouraged him.

They sat there for awhile, Angus occasionally making a sound of surprise or pain when he nicked himself (nothing serious enough to call in a cleric about) and Magnus whistling a song from a distant plane. Eventually Angus looked up and saw that Magnus had a small carved wooden voidfish in his hand. 

“Wow…” Angus gasped. 

“It took me years of practice, art isn’t something you just rush into.” Magnus beamed. 

Angus learned just how true that was over the next few days as he kept practicing. By the time he had something he was proud of his hands were covered in bandages and splinters, but he was smiling brightly all the same. 

He placed his wooden baby voidfish right next to the one Magnus had carved and set on the windowsill.

[bastionkeeper]

What if I updated Plastisteel Menagerie after years of hiatus haha... jk...

Unless?

[bastionkeeper]

The "day of story and song," as some have been calling it, was aptly named.

Because not only did it begin with a story and song being played out for the world to hear, making an audience of existence, but it also created stories and songs for generations into the future.

Everyone had a story to tell.

"I was right there when Lup led the charge!" Gyrion, a rather bold young dragonborn boasted.

"My mommy hit a big bear with her rolling pin," Lylia the half-elf recounted in her youthful voice.

"Oh the bold adventurers seven! Led to our plane from the boughs of heaven!" Sang a hopeful but rather amateur bard going by the stage name "Voidfish."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda found myself," humbly stated a young food truck employee, fixing his hand into a finger gun shape. "I can't do as much anymore but..." and a crackle of red magic dances around his fingertip, zapping out to knock over a cup. "... I think I'm getting the hang of it again," he said with a smile.

That one night of war, when people were brought together to fight apathy and despair, created stories told unto eternity even once everyone of those involved had long ago died. Their ancestors told the stories over and over again, hoping to do what the long missing voidfish would have done:

Tell the story to the world.

[bastionkeeper]

I hope you don't mind I was inspired

Aziraphale delighted in each beat of his wings, feeling the relief of stretching limbs that had been cramped up for too long. The sky was red and pink tinged with the sunset, and picturesque white clouds drifted by above them.

"You're raining feathers on me," Crowley complained, snatching a white feather from the air as it drifted by. "I told you, you don't groom enough."

"Function over vanity, don't you think?" Aziraphale teased. "Your wings are strikingly lovely, dear, but you did need a hand taking off didn't you?"

"I just," Crowley huffed, flying up higher than Aziraphale at lightning pace as if to show he was a perfectly capable flier. "I don't do this as often as you."

"You should." Aziraphale looked down to the scenery below with a happy sigh. "It's wonderful isn't it?"

"Eh," Crowley tried to look unaffected. "Driving suits me fine."

He cast a glance over at Aziraphale, and a smirk pulled at his lips. He hissed, forked tongue darting out past slight fangs, as he flew forward and tagged the angel before diving and soaring back up at a show-off's speed. 

Aziraphale laughed and flew after him, chasing the demon while trying to avoid any clouds that might drench his otherwise warm sweater. 

They chased each other for a few minutes, until Aziraphale soared up and hovered a ways above Crowley. The demon looked up at him, and though he was wearing sunglasses Aziraphale could tell his eyes were fond.

Aziraphale laughed mischievously and then did a loop, folding his wings in tight and plummeting. He heard Crowley swear and before he'd fallen far he felt the demon's arms around him.

Crowley's sunglasses fell, a casualty of his quick dive. Aziraphale laughed at Crowley's arched eyebrow and irritated glare.

"One of these days, I might just let you drop," he said.

"Maybe,"Aziraphale said. "But you won't."

"Hm…" Crowley pulled Aziraphale in a bit tighter, wings working double time to accommodate the extra weight. "Well, one fallen angel is enough for any relationship, don't you think?"

Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a kiss enjoying the way he could feel the smile on Crowley's lips. 

"So, am I carrying you the rest of the night?" Crowley asked after they broke their kiss.

"It is rather comfortable." Aziraphale made a big show of stretching and yawning and though Crowley was tempted to open his arms right then and there, he instead adjusted Aziraphale so he could carry him better. Aziraphale chuckled and kissed Crowley's cheek, resolving to only make the demon carry him a little while.

Can I hear a ✨wahoo✨

Every time I think I’ve satisfied my urge to draw them I’m suddenly possessed and wake up several hours later with another piece of gomens art sitting finished in front of me

[bastionkeeper]

could you write something soft between Sakura and Aoi?

"You're going to love this place, I just know it!" Hina said, swinging their joined hands with a happy energy. "You can customize whatever kind of smoothie you like, so you can totally go all out on protein but still taste nothing but strawberries!"

Sakura smiled softly, watching as Hina practically dragged her along, rambling happily. She must have been staring more than she realized, because after awhile Hina paused and turned around, looking half sulky at Sakura.

"Hey, are you distracted or something." She asked, pouting but also blushing a little, embarrassed at having been talking so much.

"Oh… just a little," Sakura admitted blushing as well. "I've just never been on a date before.'

Hina's pout vanished, replaced by a bright grin.

"Well, we're gonna have so much fun! We always do when we hang out!" She assured her. "The only difference is now I get to do this!" She stood on her tip-toes and put her hands on Sakura's muscles arm for balance as she kissed her cheek.

Sakura chuckled, feeling warm.

[bastionkeeper]

"I know that this goal of yours comes from a place of great compassion and pain," Alfred sighed. "I just worry about where it will lead you, the consequences you will face. I… I already lost your parents, and I couldn't stand to lose you too." "You won't," Bruce said with certainty. "From now on, Alfred, we don't lose anyone else. Not ever."

Bruce Wayne, at eight years old, watches his parents die and the corrupt police force do nothing to prevent such atrocities from happening again. Five years later, he becomes Batman years ahead of schedule as a thirteen year old vigilante takes to the streets of Gotham.

[bastionkeeper]

could you write the thing you talked abouy recently? you made a post about teenage adam and crowley both being dumb bitches and running into each other during shenanigans

Someone remind me to neaten this up and put it on ao3 later

Adam was currently splashing cold water on his face in a poorly lit bathroom, thinking he had the worst luck in the world.

The seventeen year old antichrist, almost destroyer of worlds, was undetectable to all forces occult or ethereal. However, barring any magical invisibility, he was very detectable to anyone with average eyesight.

And Crowley, despite being hammered within an inch of his demonic life, had very excellent eyesight.

"Ah," he said, leaning heavily on the side of a stall and pointing at Adam.

"Oh," Adam replied, seeing Crowley run a mental tally on his age.

"You! Ah! Teenager!" Crowley said eloquently.

"Oh God, please don't tell my parents," Adam started to say, before a thought occurred to him. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

"That's…" Crowley paled. "None of your business, young man!"

"Does Aziraphale know you're here?" Adam asked, folding his arms over his chest in a way that made him sway slightly (they were the first two beers of his entire life cut him some slack).

"Do your parents know you're here?" Crowley countered.

"I asked you first!" Adam said.

"I asked you louder," Crowley said, drawing himself up to what would have been an intimidating height were he not rapidly losing balance.

"Aren't you supposed to be working on moving?" Adam asked.

"Isn't it a school night?" Crowley countered.

They stared each other down for a moment before Crowley sighed.

"You been keeping an eye on your drinks?" He asked. "Drinking water in between?"

"Uh… I mean…" Adam stammered.

"If you're going to drink underage at least don't be stupid about it," Crowley laughed. "What's your poison? C'mon."

He gestured for Adam to follow, and when they made it back to the bar and Adam made an order Crowley was quick to shake his head and change his order to something better.

"Not here with your friends?" He asked, sipping on a drink but looking far less drunk than he had in the bathroom. Adam made a mental note to ask him how to do that trick, before taking a surprised and appreciative sip of whatever Crowley had ordered for him.

"No, they couldn't come out," he said, hands tightening around his glass. "They're… more busy with things than I am."

"Feels like they don't have time for you?" Crowley asked sympathetically, raising an eyebrow.

"I know that's not what it is, but it feels like it!" Adam said. "We used to do everything together, and they all listened to me, and now…"

"Now you feel like they value their beliefs and their goals over you," Crowley said with understanding.

"Yeah," Adam sighed. He swished his drink around in the glass and watched Crowley order another. "So, where is Aziraphale tonight?"

"Home." Crowley took a sip. "With all the damn boxes."

"You're not just going to…" Adam made a magical looking gesture and snapped. "... you know, send the stuff over to the new place?"

"Best to keep a low profile on the miracles," Crowley said. "Heaven and Hell are leaving us alone for now but you never know. So we've rented a moving van, and we've spent the past week packing away an entire bookshop!"

"You seem scared," Adam said. "I mean, you sound annoyed… but you seem scared."

Crowley scowled at Adam, but gave a shrug and credit where it was due for hitting the nail on the head.

"For… thousands of years I was just trying to stand in his light… I was happy to be near him but I wanted to be with him. Now I finally am and suddenly all our usual bickering seems…"

"You're afraid you'll scare him off," Adam said, squeezing his glass tight.

"Yeah." Crowley nodded. "You and I are a real pair, huh kid?"

Crowley clinked their glasses together.

"He loves you though," Adam said. 

"Your friends love you too," Crowley said softly.

"We're idiots," Adam said.

"Can you blame us?" Crowley chuckled, and tapped his temple with one finger. "Little bit of hell in the brain never did anyone any good."

"It's so hard to know when you're just hurting and when you're being selfish, especially since we're literally spawn of hell," Adam huffed.

"You can be both," Crowley said. "You just have to… I don't know… let yourself hurt but don't let it hurt others."

"Then why are we here?" Adam asked.

"Eh, one night of drunken idiocy won't hurt anyone this time." Crowley winked. "So. Another round? You're on my tab tonight."

Aziraphale was taping up one last box when the door swung open and hit the wall with a crash. He whipped around, hands on his hips, ready to give Crowley a good scolding about running off and then showing blatant disrespect for doors when he saw the demon wasn't stumbling in alone.

"Hey! Uncle 'Zira!" Adam cheered, leaning just as heavily on Crowley as Crowley was on him.

"Uncle?" Aziraphale asked, having never been called that before in his life.

"Nah, more like grandfather," Crowley snickered. "Great grandfather. Great great great…"

"That's quite enough of that!" Aziraphale groaned. "You two either sober up or head upstairs to bed this instant. Crowley can take the couch. Adam may have the bed."

"Oi, why am I the only one in trouble?" Crowley asked.

"Because you are trouble," Aziraphale said. "And because I've been packing by myself for the past several hours."

"Hmph." Crowley stumbled into Aziraphale's arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then his cheek. 

"I'll do the rest tomorrow, eh?" He said. "I love you, angel. I wanna do this with you, I wanna make you breakfast every morning, and I wanna hear you complain about my cold feet when we get into bed together at the end of the day…"

"Crowley," Aziraphale chuckled fondly, pushing Crowley's face away as the demon tried to pepper him with kisses. "I know all this, you rascal. You smell like a bar, go lay down already!"

Adam watched and swayed as Crowley tried to wrap himself entirely around Aziraphale. He felt his phone buzz and after a struggle trying to unlock it he saw the group chat was full of messages from the Them. He grinned, and sent back a selfie with the besotted celestial couple in the background. He'd catch them up on the details later, he knew they'd listen

[bastionkeeper]

apparently my new thing is having a panic attack every night and managing to distract myself by writing fic I can project on, here’s tonight’s featuring the Dragon Age boys

“It hurts!” 

“I know, kid, I know, deep breaths.”

Varric rubbed Cole’s back, feeling a deep sympathy. The kid was double over as though his stomach hurt, but that wasn’t what was really bothering him. 

“I can’t breathe,” Cole gasped. “I’ve never needed to breathe before, can’t breathe, going to die, can’t breathe-”

“Hey, focus on me, kid,” Varric moved to stand in front of Cole, keeping a hand on his shoulder and trying to meet his gaze. When he noticed Cole dodging his attempts he remembered the kid’s profound dislike of eye contact. “Look at my hand, focus on that.” he held up his hand and Cole’s eyes immediately locked onto it. 

“I can feel myself dying,” Cole choked out. “Darkening, tingling, shaking, pain, mind going fuzzy.”

“It’s called a panic attack,” Varric said. “And we’re going to get you through it.”

Cole suddenly fled to the corner, moving almost too fast to see. He curled up in a ball and started rocking back and forth, humming to himself. His hands were restless, moving all over his body tugging at his hair or toying with each other, they never stopped moving.

“I’m going to die,” he said, and his voice sounded so terrified that it broke Varric’s heart. 

He’d come across Hawke like this on more than one occasion. All that stress, of course it weighed on her hard enough to make her snap. She’d rocked sometimes too, said it helped her calm down, made her feel something good and helped her focus. 

She’d rock or she’d pace, but that was just when she was in control enough to try to help herself through it. Othertimes she just sobbed helplessly while Varric held her. He could see Cole quickly reaching that territory.

“I’m here, and I’m going to keep you safe,” Varric promised him. “Remember in that last battle? When that Freeman came at you with a sword from behind?”

“You shot him,” Cole said, still rocking back and forth and starting to chew on his thumb.

“Yeah, I got him,” Varric said. “I’m going to keep doing that, okay? Anything that comes for you, I’ve got it.”

“You’re going to shoot it?”

“I can’t shoot everything, but I can protect you.”

Cole seemed to consider this for a moment, then he finally looked up at Varric. “Could you get Bianca anyway?”

“Of course, kid.”

“But don’t leave me,” Cole said quickly.

“You can come with me, how about that? Think you can walk?”

Cole made a distressed noise but he stood up. 

Varric took the darkest most least traveled pathways through Skyhold. It was night, so there weren’t many people out already thank Andraste, but he still wanted to keep Cole away from prying eyes. He didn’t want him to be scared by anything new introduced to the situation, and he didn’t want him to be embarrassed later. Hawke would get embarrassed a lot, she would drink and make scathing jokes about herself and apologize as if it was ever a bother for him to watch her back.

They made it to Varric’s room, and he grabbed Bianca from where he’d left her. He kept the safety on, no need to make this a real crisis situation at the slip of his finger. Still, he held her at the ready. 

Cole seemed bolstered by this, whimpering slightly and moving to sit on the edge of Varric’s bed just behind him.

“How we doing, kid?” Varric asked, staying protectively in place. 

“I’m scared,” Cole said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t like it. I don’t like the idea that I’m going to disappear. I don’t want to.”

“I won’t let you.”

“But you can’t stop that!”

“I’ve fought a god and a dragon and templars hopped up on red lyrium, nothing is going to stop me from keeping you safe, no matter what it is. I’d kick a hole in the fade to get you back.”

Cole made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, then he flopped onto his side. His fingers curled in the blanket and his hat went askew. 

“Why do I feel so tired?” he asked. “Like I’ve been fighting.”

“You’ve been hyperventilating, your body thinks it’s been fighting.”

“My body can think on it’s own?”

“Yeah, you’ll keep figuring that out the more human you become,” Varric chuckled. “Bodies are always doing things we didn’t plan on.”

Varric breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Cole’s breathing began to slow and grow steady. 

“What if I stop breathing?” Cole asked. “Will I die? Will my body think it’s dead?”

“I think Solas would tell you that you don’t have to breathe to keep living,” Varric said. “And I think your body just has to figure out that it’s not going to stop breathing in the first place. It’s scared, you’re scared, it just needs to remember it’s safe.”

“And you’ll keep me safe.”

“That’s right.”

Varric was surprised by a sudden weight on him, and almost fell over with an “oof!” as Cole hugged him from behind. 

He was shaking, and holding on tight enough to crack a rib, but Varric didn’t mind. He dropped Bianca and turned in Cole’s grasp to hug him back. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he shushed him. 

“Thank you,” Cole muttered, hiding his face against Varric’s shoulder. 

“Anytime.”

Varric ended up convincing Cole to give sleeping a chance. He looked exhausted after all of that, and he figured it would help his mind reset to switch off the panic. He tucked him into his bed, promising to watch the door with Bianca. Cole hadn’t asked him to, but he looked so grateful when he said it that he figured he’d guessed correctly that he was still pretty shaken. 

“You call me kid,” Cole whispered as Varric blew out the candle on the nightstand.

“Yeah, do you not like it?”

“I really like it. You make me feel safe. I don’t know what it’s like being a kid, having someone take care of you. Even when the real Cole was a kid, he didn’t know what it was like to have someone take care of you.”

Varric once again felt his heartbreak, and a bit of rage at the picture he was getting of Cole’s past.

“Well, I’ve never had the best parents either,” Varric said. “That’s how I learned to find family. It’s not the people you’re related to, it’s the people you love. The people you chose to love.”

“Varric?”

“Hm?”

“Are we family?”

“Yeah,” he didn’t hesitate. “You’ve got loads of family here. Bull called you his weird kid, remember? Sera treats you like a little brother, Cassandra mothers you every time you open your mouth, even her worship the inquisitor herself frets after you like a mother and she’s barely even older than you are.”

Cole was silent, but when Varric looked at him he seemed content. Calm, at the very least.

“You wanna hear a story?” he offered.

“Yes, please,” Cole said eagerly. 

Varric grinned, he knew how to do this part. Helping people was hard, there were so many ways to do it, and he would try every way on the list if he had to but this was the easiest one for him.

“This is one about some of my family,” Varric said. “So, this one day, Merrill wanted my help surprising Hawke with a gift…”

As Varric told his tale, only embellishing a little here and there, Cole’s muscles slowly untensed. Varric could see the smallest smile stretch across his pale face in the dark, and by the time he finished weaving his story Cole was asleep. 

Varric’s face softened looking at him. “Sweet dreams, kid.”

The next morning Varric woke up in the chair he’d pointed towards the door. He was sore, but nothing that wouldn’t be gone at the end of the day. He yawned and stretched, and that’s when his eyes fell on the items he did not remember having on his desk.

There was probably the most gorgeous leatherbound journal he’d ever seen, and then a ring he hadn’t seen in years. 

Hawke’s ring, the one she had made with her family crest when she moved to Hightown.

“To commemorate my transition into high and mighty noble!” she laughed, showing off the ring and lifting her ale.

“I thought this got eaten by an ogre,” Varric mused to himself, twisting the ring over in his hands. He noticed the note next to the items. It was written, as he expected, in Cole’s handwriting. It said simply: for helping.

[bastionkeeper]

I saw people are making those uquiz personality tests for their OCs, so if you wanna be Read or assigned one of my disasters have at it!

[bastionkeeper]

Not sure how you feel writing for them but 1 gives me Juno and Peter vibes

God a few episodes ago I just woulda made this angsty, hell one episode ago I would have made it angsty and now here we are

1.“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“I cannot believe you used me as a resume.”

“Offended, detective?” Nureyev asked, legs swaying over the edge. They were sitting on the roof of the ship, the stars of a planet awaiting a robbery sparkling away above them. 

“No, I just can’t believe you consider me a good reference,” Juno replied with a smirk. “Not even Mick lists me as a reference.”

“I hardly have any other friends.” Nureyev shrugged. “No one who knows me quite as well as you, anyway.”

“I feel like I should be flattered.”

“I did just say you were one of the few, didn’t I?”

“Well…” Juno chuckled. “I’d like for us to be friends, Nureyev, but I don’t think I really count.”

Nureyev was fidgeting with a coin he’d picked up at the last spaceport, twisting it between his fingers and rolling it across his knuckles. Raising an eyebrow at Juno’s comments, he didn’t lose an ounce of balance with the coin. 

“I don’t think you really count as anything more, either,” he replied, no bite to it just playfully and a bit pained. 

“Yeah, well, that’s my bad,” Juno stammered eloquently. “Even so, we’re something a little more complicated than that, right? We’re not just friends, you know that. We’ve been to hell and back together, almost died together.”

“What are you trying to say?” Nureyev turned to Juno curiously, watching the detective gather his coat tighter around him against the chill.

“Just that I have your back is all,” Juno said. “I still don’t think I’m much of a reference but… I’m trying to get better at being a partner.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow again and Juno rolled his eye with a laugh. “No like coworker partners. I mean maybe that other thing too, someday. Just not before either of us is ready.”

“Hm.” He really had changed somehow. He was still the same infuriating, passionate, and difficult Juno Steel, but the difficult part seemed more welcoming now. “Well, sorry to tell you I work alone.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll let Buddy and the others know when we head in,” Juno laughed. 

“A good thief is always alone, even in the presence of others!” Nureyev said dramatically, laying a theatrical hand on his chest and grinning to bear sharp teeth. 

“Well, you’re not a good thief.” Juno stood up and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “You’re a great one.”

He pulled one hand from his pocket to give a lazy wave before heading to the ship’s hatch. Nureyev watched him go, pursing his lips and trying to think more of a cold abandoned bed than the taste of whiskey on someone’s tongue and a strong focused eye staring down the big bad world.

Just a little less alone this time.

[bastionkeeper]

I hope you don't mind if I just.... pop this here? Not to snatch your idea but you inspired me and so...

"You saw them?" Aziraphale asked, eyes wide. "Where? What happened?"

"At the hospital," Crowley said, flipping through their notes at a manic pace. "He, he spoke to me… I just… I can't remember his face…" 

"Slow down, my dear," Aziraphale said. There was something clearly off with his demonic counterpart, and he felt it was in her best interest to calm down and take a breath. "We can find him tomorrow, no one will be about at this hour."

"He will!" Crowley insisted, and her eyes should have flashed with panic or even rage but they just looked dull and tired. "Sneaking around… signing death sentences for children and…"

Crowley was suddenly seized with a bout of coughing, and Aziraphale felt panic hit him like a splash of icy water. 

Normally, they didn't get sick. Hungover, sure, but their corporations were hardy enough to ward off any other human ailments. It was why they felt so confident working amongst the sick in the first place, Crowley couldn't be sick…

So why was her thin frame being wracked with coughing?

"Crowley," Aziraphale said helplessly, reaching out to catch the demon as she slid from her chair. She let him lift her, not protesting for once as the angel carried her to the bed she used and Aziraphale largely ignored. 

Aziraphale spent the night in the grip of terror, bringing the notes to Crowley's bedside so he could be near her as he researched. 

"Angel…" Crowley groaned, shivering and clutching at the sheets. "M'cold."

"I know, dear," Aziraphale said, brushing sweat sticky hair from her brow. "Be strong, you'll be alright, I'll see to it."

"Don't wanna go that way…" Crowley murmured. "Nasty, long way to go… you'd be alone…"

She'd been speaking deliriously for awhile now, ever since she'd taken ill. Mostly complaining of the cold and the ache, and now this new fear that made Aziraphale ache.

"You'd never leave me alone," Aziraphale said, squeezing her hand lightly. "The most charming gum on the bottom of my shoe you are. So you're not going, not in any way nasty or long. We stick together, right?"

Crowley just shuddered and withdrew further under the blankets.

Days passed and the demon's condition grew worse. Aziraphale fretted that discorporation could be a possibility, and found himself lingering at home more often than at work. 

"Need to remember his face, angel," Crowley insisted, trying to wriggle free of Aziraphale's grip and escape the bed. "Need to find him!"

"You'll do no such thing!" Aziraphale said. "Lay down!"

She only seemed to have any energy when she got like this, remembering their goal and needing so badly to reach it. Once he'd managed to steer her mind away from Pestilence, she was back to sleeping fitfully.

Aziraphale sighed, and made his way to the kitchen to make himself some tea. He didn't really need it, but he felt tired and sometimes old rituals worked better than caffeine itself.

He was sipping from a steaming mug when he suddenly realized he wasn't alone.

"How is she feeling?"

Aziraphale felt a tickle in the back of his throat, a chill threaten to overtake his body, as he turned to face Pestilence.

"You," was all he could manage to say.

"Forgive my interference," he said. "But the pair of you were working too well against me."

Aziraphale tried to focus on the details of his face and found he could not. All he knew was that looking at him made him feel sick.

"Please," he said. "She's dying."

"She's not dying, she's a demon, she's being sent back to head office," Pestilence said with the weary sigh of an impatient teacher facing their most inattentive student. "Neither of you know true Death… my old friend, coming for me this time. My time is up, principality, just about. I just wanted to stretch my legs for the last stretch of the race before…"

Pestilence grew quiet, then he spoke again. "It's almost over now, don't worry. You won't see me again for some time… maybe not ever… I do hope my replacement lives up to the name."

Aziraphale shuddered, and then suddenly he was alone again.

His tea had gone cold.

"Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale turned to see Crowley entering the kitchen, a blanket drawn around her. She looked tired and pale, but the furthest from death's doorstep as she'd been in a long time. 

Aziraphale left his tea on the counter and moved to embrace her. She gave a startled 'oof,' but quickly melted into the hug.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, pulling back and pressing the back of his hand to her forehead.

"Lousy," Crowley answered, leaning against the cool hand. "But better. Thanks."

"You'd better get back to bed," Aziraphale said. "Probably one sleep away from recovery if we're lucky."

"Come with me?" Crowley asked, a nervous frown playing at her lips. "Just… in case?"

Aziraphale took her hand.

"I won't leave your side," he promised.

"Yeah, like gum," Crowley remarked, making a big show of being annoyed at the comment now that she was lucid enough to remember it.

They went back to the bedroom, and the chill of plague slowly dissipated from the air.

I was trying to think of an angsty thing to post and I remembered I had this idea for a fic over the summer

It's right after WWI and the second wave of the Spanish flu is hitting Europe. Crowley and Aziraphale are told to keep an eye out for Pestilence, who's going rogue with this unapproved second wave.

Both heaven and hell are too busy with all the recent deaths from the end of the war and the pandemic to really pay attention to Crowley and Aziraphale. So, they move into together in Spain to try to find Pestilence.

Aziraphale poses as a priest for a hospital. He gives people their last rights and ensures that they're going to heaven. It's all he can really do.

Crowley is posing as a nurse in the same hospital. She tells Aziraphale and hell that she's there for last minute sins to secure more souls. Aziraphale knows better. He sees her holding small children whose parents are no where to be found. He sees her treating people with respect, getting them water and helping administer medicine.

One day, Crowley is doing job and a doctor approaches her. She hasn't seen him before. Then, she recognizes him.

"You're not exactly human, are you?" he asks her. "You're Crowley, I presume?"

She nods, holding his gaze with a clenched jaw. She's hated this pandemic.

Aziraphale gets home after her and finds her pouring over all their notes they've had spread out in the kitchen. But she's shaking and sweating and he pulls her back from the papers.

"My dear, you're burning up."

He gets her to bed. She's rambling about how she saw Pestilence and how he's there.

That's all I got

[bastionkeeper]

17 for Fuyuhiko and Hajime and or 33(ithink) for Chiaki, Nagito and Hajime? Or both if ya wanna ;3c

love how many Hajime ships there are

17. Bite me

Hajime groaned as he grabbed an energy drink from the market’s vending machine. He usually wasn’t the kind of guy to rely on these things, but it wasn’t like sleeping came easy in the middle of a bizarre killing game. 

He still felt sort of weird leaving without paying, but since there was no one to pay he turned to leave and in doing so almost bumped into another “shopper.”“Watch where you’re going,” Fuyuhiko chided him. “You look half dead, it’s dangerous letting your guard down not being all alert, you know?”

“I’m really just hoping there’s no reason to have my guard up at all today,” Hajime replied with a noise that was half chuckle half sigh. 

“There’s always a reason.” Fuyuhiko nodded seriously, and it was only then that Hajime noticed that he was holding quite an armful of sweet snacks. 

“Oh hey, those ones are really good.” Hajime pointed out one of the items, and Fuyuhiko’s face  immediately went red as he stammered in response. 

“Like I’d want to know something like that!” he huffed. “I’m just moving this stuff, I don’t like this crap!”

“What’s wrong with liking sweet things?” Hajime asked, seeming to remember having a similar conversation before. 

“Bite me!” Fuyuhiko quickly dropped the snacks on the nearest shelf, before making a hasty retreat. Hajime frowned, he wasn’t trying to get that sort of response. Then again, since Fuyuhiko only came to get snacks when the market looked empty, maybe he should have known better than to mention them. He really didn’t see how candy could ruin a tough guy yakuza image though, even if he understood that’s how Fuyuhiko saw it. He wondered if maybe he’d been stocking up a secret stash to keep in his cottage. 

He didn’t see Fuyuhiko for the rest of the day, but just after dinner her caught sight of him entering his cottage. After a quick detour back to his own, Hajime went to knock on his door. 

Fuyuhiko sulked as he opened the door, though that wasn’t too unusual. 

“Hey, you need something?” 

“Well, I just had some stuff I wanted to get rid of, and I thought maybe you could take it,” Hajime said. 

“What the hell are you talking ab-” 

Hajime lifted up a plastic bag, opening it slightly so Fuyuhiko could see the snacks inside. Fuyuhiko’s eye widened, and he dragged Hajime in by the shirt collar, an awkward angle given the height difference. 

“What, are ya crazy?” he shouted. “Flashing contraband in plain sight like that!”

“I thought I was pretty sneaky!” Hajime insisted. 

“Well, you can take that crap and go, I don’t need it.” Fuyuhiko folded his arms over his chest and looked determinedly away. 

Hajime sighed, and was about to say something when he broke into a yawn. Not even energy drinks could fix his insomnia. Fuyuhiko looked him over out of the corner of his eye and sighed. 

“You know what, you better stick around,” he said. “I don’t want you going all zombie and falling off the walkway. You should take a break, alright?”

“Are you saying you want to hang out with me?” Hajime puzzled out, and Fuyuhiko grinned. 

“I’m saying I’ll keep you safe for now, that’s all.”

Hajime idled by the bed for a moment before taking a seat on the edge, noticing how Fuyuhiko blushed again as he did. He was wondering if maybe he should have sat on the couch, but Fuyuhiko came to sit next to him. 

“Go ahead and pass me those cookies,” he muttered, gesturing to the bag. 

Hajime grinned, and did just that. 

They sat and talked for awhile, and ate sugary snacks, and at some point Hajime must have drifted off because he was suddenly waking up with his head on Fuyuhiko’s shoulder. He sat up quickly. 

“Jeez, you’re heavy, you know that?” Fuyuhiko said, his face turned away from Hajime so he could hide his blush. “Perfectly good pillow right there and you pick me. Guess I owe you for bringing me snacks but…”

Hajime rolled his eyes and lay his head right back where it had been. 

33. “I missed something didn’t I?”

“Nagito!” Chiaki said sternly, elbowing the lanky boy sitting on the couch next to her. 

“What?” Nagito grinned innocently. “I think this just makes things more interesting, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Chiaki pouted. “We spent a whole week on this!”

“Ah, and that’s what makes it so perfect!” Nagito laughed, gesturing widely. “All that time and passion from the Ultimate Gamer, and it could all vanish in less than a second! Doesn’t the idea of so narrowly avoiding despair excite you?”

“No.” Chiaki elbowed him again, and his laugh was cut short as it connected with his ribs and drove the air out of his lungs. He was loud, but also fragile. 

“I missed something, didn’t I?” Hajime asked, walking back into the living room with the drink he’d gone to get just a minute ago. “Are you guys fighting? Actually, you basically spent all week on that couch I’m surprised war didn’t break out earlier…”

“We were having fun,” Chiaki said. “Were.” she leveled an accusing gaze at Nagito, who was smiling behind his hand. 

“What did you do?” Hajime sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I just added a little something special to our project!”

“He filled the basement of our castle with TNT.”

Hajime blinked, and then turned to look at the screen. They were indeed playing Minecraft, and Nagito did indeed have a flint and steel poised to take out the work of what had been an admittedly adorable week of him and Chiaki gaming, cuddling, bickering, and falling asleep just long enough for Hajime to have some time with the TV. 

Adorable or not he could not go another week of them gaming non-stop.

“Okay…” he sighed, moving to sit on the arm of the couch next to Nagito. “So this is supposed to make Chiaki feel hope… how exactly?”

“Well-” Nagito began to speak, but didn’t even have a chance of explaining himself, because at that point Hajime had snatched the controller out of his hand and run out of the room while Chiaki cheered him on.

[bastionkeeper]

Write Crowley realizing that Aziraphale was *involved* with Oscar Wild while he was taking his century long nap

It came out, as many things did, over drinks.

"You what?" Crowley laughed, a hand slapping over his mouth.

"Oh, don't act so surprised," Aziraphale said smugly, sipping at his wine. "I'm an angel, not a monk."

"That's shock enough as is!" Crowley said. "But Wilde? Really?"

"He was rather fascinating, and very… talented."

"More talented than me?"

"Oh. Oh of course not, Crowley."

"That was very convincing." Crowley reclined further into the couch. "Think he wrote it about you?"

"Wrote what?"

"Well… unaging romantic hedonist…"

"You beast, no!" Aziraphale laughed. "I did give him a few notes on that one though. I did so love to read his rough drafts."

"Naked in bed?" Crowley asked, already painting an image in his mind that made him both proud and jealous. "Reading it aloud all wrapped in his arms?"

"Crowley, you've slept with me," Aziraphale said calmly. "You very well know I like to do the… holding."

Crowley's laughter was unstoppable now, and Aziraphale had half a mind to kiss it out of him.

"Well, that'll teach me to nap any longer than a year," Crowley sighed eventually. "I'm no competition for an author."

"You give me stories enough." Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

"Okay, but was he better in bed than me?"

"It's not a competition," Aziraphale said slyly.

"You're making me nervous! Yes or no?" Crowley all but shrieked, enjoying being teased just as much as Aziraphale was enjoying teasing him.

[bastionkeeper]

A fix where Crowley turns into a snake because he was really startled and is huddling up to Zira becuase he's warm

Okay it's a little different, but ever since "snake Crowley using Aziraphale for warmth" thing got big I've been thinking about this customer I used to get a lot back at the gas station who would walk around with his ball python around his neck on the daily, just right up to the counter to buy his cigarettes with a snake on him… and I just had to do something with that and it totally just turned into a whole thing, hope it’s still good!

“Hello Mr. Fell! Some weather, huh?”

The tattooed twenty-something behind the counter, who coincidentally and hilariously was named ‘Angela,’ greeted one of her odder if not beloved regulars. He ran the bookshop just down the street from this particular convenience store, and often stopped in for different odds and ends. Usually something sweet.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied cheerfully. “It is quite something, isn’t it?”

The whole city was covered with snow, with more falling in determined waves. Unshoveled sections were threatening to reach the knees if left alone any longer, and the determined citizens refusing to let the snow stop their day to day business were all bundled up. With the exception of Mr. Fell, who seemed entirely unbothered by the cold.

Sure, he was in a coat, but it seemed more stylish than waterproof. The same could be said about his gloves and boots, and as for a scarf…

“Is it safe for him to be out?” Angela asked, leaning over the counter and marveling at the enormous snake curled around Aziraphale’s neck and shoulders. 

“Hm?” Aziraphale looked down as if forgetting he was wearing a live animal. Or rather, a petulant cold-blooded demon who was making it through the winter on a steady supply of angel body heat.

“Oh, he’s fine. He was curled up in my coat a minute ago, sulking. He refuses to be anywhere else when it gets really cold.”

“Aw, what a baby,” Angela laughed. 

The snake didn’t seem to appreciate the remark, glowering at her before pointedly giving her the cold shoulder by slithering over one of Aziraphale’s. 

“What’s his name, anyhow?” Angela asked, continuing to show disrespect for the counter by lifting herself up and taking a seat on it so she could better watch the odd pair do their shopping.

“Uh… it’s uh… Lucifer,” Aziraphale said. 

The snake quickly lifted its head, passing by Aziraphale’s ear as if whispering something to him. Which is exactly what he was doing.

“Like the devil, huh?” Angela grinned. “My girlfriend’s way into that black magic stuff, her band gets all decked out in pentagrams and stuff for shows.”

“Do they?” Aziraphale asked, batting at Crowley who was still teasing him with hissing whispers. 

Another man entered the store then, and while Crowley tried to convince Aziraphale to buy some preservative nightmare of a boxed mini apple pie, the man approached the counter and asked for a pack of cigarettes. 

Aziraphale watched with distaste as the man made a great show of watching Angela hop down from the counter to get the cigarettes, his eyes darting up and down her body.

“Cold enough for you out here?” the man asked, jerking his head towards the snow outside the window.

“Yeah, real cold,” Angela said, already sounding uncomfortable.

“You got someone to keep you warm, then?” the man asked with a sly smile, leaning too far over the counter and letting his hand brush against Angela’s for far too long when she handed him his change.

“The heat in here is pretty good,” Angela said politely, quickly deciding there was some business in the back room she had to take care of. She went to leave the counter, but the man snatched her wrist.

“Aw, hey, talk with me a bit,” he said. “I love goth birds like you.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“What?” the man asked, irritated. He turned around, and came face to face with what appeared to be a librarian with the world’s biggest snake looming over his head. The snake seemed sketchy, but otherwise the man felt brave enough to roll his eyes. “I’m talking to the lady, here. Go on and-”

Aziraphale sighed and looked up at Crowley, who gleefully altered his shape from harmless pet to a burning Jörmungandr with fangs thick as a man’s arm and enormous black wings that blocked out any light in the store. Crowley hissed menacingly, and the man was so fast out the door he almost left a cartoonish afterimage of himself where he’d been standing. 

Angela watched in awed disbelief as the monster shrank back down, contentedly curling about Mr. Fell’s neck once more.

“Wicked,” she managed to say. 

“You didn’t have to let her see too!” Mr. Fell said with exasperation.

“I thought you were on that, miracle it away or something,” the snake hissed. 

Angela saw Mr. Fell wave his hand, and then suddenly she was standing at the counter looking down at the money that seemed to have mysteriously appeared in her hand. What had she been doing?

She shook off the strange sense that she was forgetting something and grabbed her phone. She’d just had a great album art idea for her girlfriend’s band.

Meanwhile, an angel was hanging up his coat, and trying to convince a quite comfortable snake to unwind himself from his torso and just get a blanket like a normal person.

[bastionkeeper]

It started with aches, waking up feeling sore which had never happened before in all the thousands of years he'd spent sleeping and waking up.

Other small things started popping up too, he found himself falling asleep even when he hadn't meant to. Aziraphale had to shake him awake one night, when he'd simply drifted off against the angel's shoulder intending to take a nap, and sure that happened sometimes but only after he'd had a lot to drink or expended a lot of magical energy.

The eating thing took awhile to catch on, he just thought he was going crazy for awhile the way he felt so dizzy and snapped at every minor annoyance. It wasn't until lunch with Aziraphale, and stealing food off his plate like he always did, that he realized his stomach had been aching emptily for some time now.

"You think maybe we should look into it?" Aziraphale asked nervously one night, another night where Crowley had fallen asleep with no intention to do so. He was awaken rather groggily, sitting up on the couch he'd draped himself on and shaking his head.

"Sure it's nothing," he said. 

"I just don't see why your body would need sleep or food the way you seem to now," Aziraphale continued, setting his book aside to focus his concern on Crowley.

"I don't need them," Crowley said. "I'm just used to them, watch I'll go without for awhile and recalibrate."

This effort did not go well at all, in fact it only went for about three days before Crowley had trouble thinking and almost collapsed into Aziraphale's arms.

"You see?" Aziraphale said, voice shaking just a touch as he helped Crowley sit down. "Something's not quite right."

"Hmn," was all Crowley could say, as he waited for the spots to disappear from his vision. 

He fell asleep there, head on Aziraphale's lap while the angel did a little research from the rarely touched books in the arcane section of the shop. He didn't know how long he was out, but it must have been some time because Aziraphale gasped with surprised when he awoke with a yawn.

"Sorry," he said. "Tried to wake up sooner…"

"No." Aziraphale shook his head. "No, it's just… Crowley… your eyes."

"What about them?" Crowley raised an eyebrow, already touchy on the subject.

Aziraphale made Crowley stand, started pushing him towards the nearest mirror despite the demon's grumbling. The sight of himself was enough to silence him, though.

"Oh…" he said, fingers trailing up to rest under one round pupiled and soft brown eye.  "Maybe… maybe something is wrong."

before waking up to human-looking eyes, Vrowley starts to feel rather tired and sometimes even hungry, but he ignores it, thinking he's just imagining things, and it goes away for a while...

Someone! Write this! Please! Akdhakdbak