#listen there is not enough ot3 content in this fandom and if i have to personally fix that then i will

[chibistarlyte]

i want an instance where gumshoe gets really injured on a case

like maybe in trying to apprehend a culprit, he gets shot and has to be rushed to the hospital

and i want phoenix and miles to be beside themselves

like. miles endlessly pacing, jaw clenched and heart racing, mind going a million miles a minute thinking of all the potential outcomes of the situation and growing increasingly frantic and panicked as the idea of losing gumshoe becomes more and more real

and phoenix trying his best to comfort miles because he knows how important gumshoe is to miles, but being terrified and panicked himself because he also treasures gumshoe, not just as a coworker so-to-speak but as a dear friend and he can't imagine a life without gumshoe in it

and despite a close call during surgery, gumshoe lives and miles and phoenix keep a constant vigil at his bedside while he recovers. meanwhile, gumshoe doesn't understand why they're so scared and morose, tries to lighten the mood and joke around that he's too stubborn to die and "aw, don't spend so much energy worrying over someone like me, pal" and stuff like that

and miles and phoenix are just "you idiot, of course we were worried!" and wanting to throttle gumshoe for even daring to think he's not important enough to them to be worried over

may or may not end in three grown men trying to cuddle on a tiny hospital bed. because gumshoe deserves all the cuddles

[the-marron]

Shipper Tag Game

Tagged by @forerussake , thank you 🥰

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care about anymore?

Hmmm, a hard question right off the bat, because even if I am no longer actively seeking the ship content out anymore, usually I retain a lot of fondness for it, so there are precious few ships I used to be into and that I am simply meh about now, but I think it would be ShikaIno, from Naruto. Canon came at me hard, so while I have some fondness for it, it is what it is, and I am not that much into Naruto anymore either way, so it doesn't hurt much.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Simba/Nala? Lol 😂 but in all seriousness, I think it would be BatCat. Or Aragon/Arwen, I am very hazy on the details when exactly I imprinted on those, the timeline is not clear

3. Your first fanfic was about which couple?

Read or written? Read: no idea, I think it might have been some self-insert into Inuyasha universe? Written: Sirius/Remus

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw fanart of?

Nope. When I discovered the internet I discovered all of it at an alarming pace, but my bet would be on either Sirius/Remus or some couple from W.I.T.C.H

5. Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

I try not to. I have opinions, yes, and I like discussing them with friends, but I try not to make it anyone's problem - everyone will ship what they want to ship and find different dynamics compelling, so I don't think it necessary to crusade one way or another because one ship is superior to another. It's all very subjective.

6. Did you use to have any NOTP or have one currently?

I have quite a bit! Funnily enough I have some canon ships I absolutely dislike and can go off about whenever I catch a poor, innocent victim to listen to my rant.

But my general rule is that I don't like OT3s. In any fandom, in any form, it's just not for me at all. To make matters worse, I am a monoshipper at heart, which usually means that I have a dynamic/ship that I like with characters A and B, and it makes me lose interest in all the other configurations with them. So maybe not an active NoTP but very unlikely for me to read A/C if I committed myself to A/B.

Special shout out to Weilanzun, because this is my most recently acquired NOTP.

And to Batman/Talia Al Ghul which is my longest reigning one.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Zhou Ying/Bai Ling from Tai Sui 🥺 my poor white half-demon, hopelessly devoted to his prince... And so few fics with them ;_;

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Plenty. I don't abandon old ones, I just collect them together in my jar of ships and rattle it from time to time, to see how they sparkle together.

But from my most recent and long-term commitments: Weilan, Luolin, Heixie, Luo Qingeng/Jiang Yang (do they have a name???) and BatCat, forever and ever

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Well, the story is a story, so as long as it makes sense that these characters do not end up together, then I am okay with it, that's what we have fanfiction for, right?

BUT

I am still not over that wedding stunt DC Comics pulled with BatCat. Months of teasing, of promising the wedding, the freaking wedding albums being released and then the WEDDING DIDN'T HAPPEN. They broke up instead because Batman has to be the dark, sad, lonely something something and you can't be a hero if you have a wife. 50 years and DC Comics is going backwards in this regard :/

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Not sure? Nothing comes to mind. But I am very open to being pulled into/converted into ships as long as they are not on my black list, and even then I try to keep an open mind, in case something clicks.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, would've been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Hah, a lot, because I got into shipping as a teenager. So reading romances about other teenagers felt normal and all but now I don't feel the need to revisit them.

12. What is your favorite crack ship?

Ha. Not today, Satan. One moment I am joking about a crack ship and the next I have 10k words written about it and like 3 sad headcanons and a shipping chart ready.

13. What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

Oh wow, good question. If I like a ship, then I tend to read through the entire Ao3 tag of theirs, sometimes more than once because what if I missed some gem in the first go? So it would come down to the sheer numbers of fics, I think. So that would be either Sterek, Stucky or Eames/Arthur (fun fact: this is also the first fandom that introduced to me the concept of derivs)

14. What do most of your ships usually have in common?

Devotion. Very often the conflict between their feelings and their duties/ loyalty towards something they cared about before they met the other.

I like both sides of the ship to be competent at their respective fields and torn apart by their own choices and priorities. The 'I love you but do I love you enough to abandon everything I am'?. I like both answers more or less equally: both the 'yes, it's us against the world now' and 'I hope we won't meet on the battlefield' are set ups I enjoy immensely. But I also like smart-asses annoying each other into marriage one witty comeback at a time.

15. What you absolutely hate in a ship?

Imbalance of attachment. If the ship seems terribly one-sided, like one character is putting in all of the work and tries and tries, and tries while the other mercifully sometimes acknowledges them, then it's a no for me.

Same with the 'if you patiently wait for this person to like you, even though they told you 10 times they won't, then they eventually will' trope, like someone's love is what you earn through steadiness and hard-work.

I like both parts to be equally unwell about their partner, one way or another. They can be sickeningly domestic and gushing, or they can be crazy in that 'no one defeats him, but me!' kind of way, but they have to be in balance on the insanity scale. I like when characters grow into their relationship and both affect one another, falling more and more in love with each other as they go, but not when one person is a prize the other has to win/outwait/earn.

Thanks again for the tag, that was a nice bit of soul-searching there, very fun 👌😌

Tagging: @baiyubai , @babischlong-six , @mjsakurea, @mejomonster, @elenothar

[mysterylover123]

BNHA Chapter 242: The Christmas Chapter, 1 year later

Hey everyone! Since I wasn’t doing the MHA chapter reviews back in September (I really wish I had at the time, cause that arc was amazing) I never actually did a formal review of the Christmas Chapter. In honor of the day, I figured I’d go back and reread it, post my thoughts, and just generally have fun looking at Class 1-A having fun (because dammit it’s been a long time since Deku and co were actually happy.) 

Let’ go!

I’m sure that plan’ll go great. (Oh who am I kidding, the actual internships were awesome, it’s just the aftermath that sucked for all)

But all our fandom theories! I cry, pointing at the thousands of pages of speculation.

NOW ONTO THE PARTY

BEST PARTY EVER. My god they all look so happy and festive.

BONES. My folks at Bones. You know me and filler, we’re not friends. But you guys do such good original MHA content in general. At the very least - an OVA, a filler ep, a movie, whatever - you must find a way to give us some of these ladies internships from this arc. I have to know how Jirou (and Shoji) get along with Gang Orca. Show us what Majestic is like. Give us some idea of Ryukyu’s agency.

Mostly posting this cause  Deku is too goddamn cute to be allowed. Also, feels.

1) Mina and Kaminari doing the good work this chapter. Lowkey MVPs. 2) Bakugou in that lower right hand panel=Really Really Pretty. Damn. Prettiest Kacchan since the Glamouroki incident.

This foreshadowing didn’t really go anywhere. Though I still hold out hope that since Jeanist didn’t like the Current Hero Name either that he’ll change it to something more interesting in future. (Literally everyone but Shoto, Ochako, Toko, Tsu and Iida needs to change their hero names anyway.)

Mina developing Nana/Ochako’s powers and floating in the air to get the coat on. Also, Shoto is only shown watching Kacchan this chapter, not Deku. The TDBK is strong with this one.

See what I mean?

Posting just for the Foodservice. Damn that’s a nice looking turkey.

CuteService time. Merry Xmas Eri, you lil badass. You and Deku both are just too adorable for words.

More festive imagery just because I need it. I wonder if they’ll bring back Jirou’s singing  voice for this scene in Season 5?

So Jirou got Sero’s, Sero got Tsu’s, Mina must’ve gotten Kirishima’s (MY SHIPPER HEART) and is being really irresponsible with it, Kaminari got...I don’t know who would’ve given him a basketball but he seems sad about it. Iida got Momo’s I think? That rarepair getting some love. And Bakugou...glasses, maybe? Are they Iida’s? 

Eri easily got the best gift of all. I want future ProHero Eri fanart to include this sword.

Deku looking adorably androgynous here, with the suit cinched in in the middle. Also DekuJirou is lowkey becoming my fave het ship for Deku (possibly for Kacchan too, actually) so seeing her offer him help brings a smile to my face.

Though of course WonderDuo’s true OT3 steps in quickly to reclaim his crown.

1. More Androgynous dress-like Deku which is too cute. 2. Shoto wasn’t shown listening to Deku’s problems earlier but just offers him anyway, can’t forget that TDDK, 3. That direct look at Kacchan though. 

Merry Christmas, Wonder Duo. Want a job?

Those three panel shots are really nice. It’s weird to think that before this arc, the concept of Todo, Kacchan and Deku as a trinity wasn’t really a thing. Like, there was the three separate  rivalries, but they were all their own separated things pretty much. You didn’t see all three of them together on their own, but now it’s so established the third movie’s gonna be about the trinity. There is something kind of amazing about the synergy of Class 1-A’s Big 3. They have trouble getting along, and yet they just fit together so neatly. 

Anyway enough OT3 Gushing. Christmas time is here and this chapter is a blast. CANNOT WAIT FOR SEASON 5. GET YOURSELF WELL AND OVER WITH 2020. 

[randomingoftherandomness]

so i was looking over random notes of mine for other ideas in other fandoms and it hit me, Booker gets his shit together, maybe starts seeing a therapist, and he realizes he thrives on homemaking, he accidentally befriends his neighbors or his neighbor's kids, at some point they have a crisis where the kids need watching but there's no one to watch and insert Booker, yada yada, kids love him, parents can relate, he accidentally becomes the go-to baby sitter, blablablah Accidental Daycare Booker

and this daycare nonsense is of course going on during The Exile™ so TOG doesn't know shit until something happens and they worry somehow Booker's gonna End Up In It Too but what they find is a smiling, happy, thriving man, sitting in a pile of small children reading aloud, & those kids LOVE him alright, & the parents ADORE him, & of course they know a sanitized version of him losing his own kids so they EMPATHIZE with the poor man with no family, ,,,until of course TOG stumble in like "waht?"

also (sorry for not numbering these i literally didn't mean to keep coming up w/ more ideas so this is #3) since you ruined my brain for it, ot3 so of course Joe sees this glowing happy Booker doting on these amazing small babies & just-- collapses because cuteness & overload, his poor poetic soft heart can't take it, but Nicky's not doing much better he forgot how to language halfway through a word & is trying to catch Joe but poor Nicky, he can't tear his eyes away & only one arm is working

AHHHHHH JORDGE I AM SOFT AND FERAL FOR THIS

I can already see how he goes to his knees to speak to the kids at their eye level and treats them with the utmost respect and gravitas. And those kids love him. Like, love the absolute cotton socks off of him.

Anita attempts to run away when her little brother was born and thinks her parents love her less and goes right to Booker because his house is right at the end of the street and that’s the furthest she’s ever walked alone, who makes her hot chocolate and puts on Inside Out and calls her parents to tell them that he will talk to her and get her back by bedtime. Phillipe and James who are adopting but worry about whether they’d be good parents and Booker becomes their confidante and helps them make sense of the red tapes and bureaucracies - which is easy coz governmental firewalls are nothing to the man who helped set them in place in the first place.

The Martin children who were new to the neighbourhood with parents who were clearly trying to save their marriage to very little success, so they hang out in Booker’s backyard when the fighting gets too loud and he always keeps a key under the frog-shaped pot in case he is at his weekly therapy sessions and they need a glass of water or something. Juliette who was leaving for uni next year but feels overwhelmed about leaving her family comes over for a chat and soon enough some of the older kids in the neighbourhood come by too. 

Booker keeps his pantry stock with snack and food options because he can never know who’ll show up - whether it was one of the parents or the kids - so he is always prepared. In turn, the community rapidly weaves him into their lives; he takes summer holidays with his neighbours and everyone plans their Christmas parties so that he can attend each and every one. 

And then one day, he manages to pull one of the younger Martin children from a tree but not before the boy sprains a wrist on the fall. Booker brings the neighbourhood brood along with him to the hospital and it’s nothing big and the child was none the worse for wear, but somehow his name pings in the hospital’s system and it brings his family to Paris because hey, his name pinged in a hospital’s system. Andy is worried because she’s mortal now, so what if Booker is too and what if this is a catalyst for him to try yeeting himself off this mortal coil. Joe and Nicky are on tenterhooks the whole time because Booker was and is their lover and while they still need time to heal from the hurt, the idea that Booker is hurting and they’re not there by his side is something they can’t abide by. Nile is just resisting the urge to bang her head on a table because this worry and stress could have been avoided if they’d just listened to her and talked to the man.

Booker isn’t in the hospital obviously but he is at the address he leaves at the hospital. They arrive, ready to spirit him away if they need to, only to find the house filled to the brim with people and laughter and happiness. A teenage girl opens the door and asks if they’re Basti’s friends because they’re out of ice and could they go get some, please? There’s a game on where the clear team supporters are religiously gathered around. In the kitchen, there is something like a cooking marathon happening and the dining table is bowing under the food piled on it. It is simultaneously chaotic and homely and Joe stops a man with a baby to ask where ‘Basti’ is. 

They’re all directed to the backyard where Booker is seated on the grass with a small gathering of children and teenagers who are lounging with their books and phones while Booker is reading out loud to the youngest members of this group. The child on his lap has a cast on his arm and sucking on a thumb but seems to be transfixed and calm as Booker does the voices to Beauty and the Beast.

Booker looks radiant and content and healthy and hale and he smiles easily when the children cuddle closer to him and demand for his attention. Joe is struck breathless by the almost unrecognisable way Booker looks in that he is so soft and content and so very alive, while Nicky is speechless at how much his heart spills with love at the kindness he sees in the way Booker treats the children around him and how his home is so filled with people who clearly care and are comfortable with Booker in their lives. 

Andy is confused as hell and Nile is ready to drag them all out because Booker seems to be doing well but they do not need to have their reunion right here and now because there are too many strangers around them right now. And that is when Booker looks up to see, oh, it’s them and his face changes from relaxed and calm to tense and guarded. Which doesn’t go unnoticed by the children. 

Who all move to put themselves in front of Booker. The Immortals are highly befuddled. 

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. xxi

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xxi: what went we

Masterlink Post

Word Count: 15.3k

Rating: Explicit: sexual content ahead.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, some slight gore/blood (it's very mild), the aforementioned sexually explicit content.

Notes: Hi guys. I don't really know where to begin this post, because I am incredibly emotional. It feels so very fitting and special to me that I am bringing in the last chapter of Ancient Names just as 2021 rolls in, and so yes, I AM crying, yes, this WILL be an exceptionally sappy notes section, and yes, this is going to be all about you!

There are so many people that are in part responsible for this fic actually getting finished and put out where the world can see it. @empirics, whose unending support even when she doesn't even GO here and cheerleading me through writing sprints; @lilwritingraven, who is so sweet, so supportive, so incredible and just an overall gigantic sweetheart; @faithchel, whose tags are incredible and always just give me LIFE, I love that our girls be out here really feral like that; @shallow-gravy, who not only lends me her eyeballs but also lets me complain and whine, send her memes nonstop, and participates in my very elaborate fantasies of Elliot and Diana living out their lives as dog moms on a farm (and sometimes in our unholy OT3); @baeogorath, also an eyeball-lender, also incredibly sweet, ALSO lets me send them memes, and does so good in talking me down from my adrenaline anxiety pre-posting and post-posting, was the first person to welcome me into this fandom and is also just a dear, dear friend who happens to be incredibly talented. And, of course, @starcrier. As always, this would have never ever ever been possible without you, not even a little bit, not even at all. From the bottom of my heart, to every single one of you, and the people who have left kudos, have left comments: thank you thank you thank you, from the absolute bottom of my heart. Here is ALL my love, just for you!

The emotional journey of writing this fic has been an incredible one. And a taxing one. Elliot is a character near and dear to my heart for many reasons; I pour so much of my heart into her, so when I hear people say that they love her, and love this journey, and love these things that I've created and written, I mean it when I say that it makes my whole entire day. It means so much to me. Thank you.

In the essence of time, I will not go through all of the feelings that are in my brain right now because there are SO many and I am already crying lol. Please just know you have made the experience of joining a new fandom, and writing in it, so incredible!

There is going to be an epilogue following this chapter, and then I'm going to take a short break and start in on a sequel fic, tentatively titled Witching Hour. Please feel free to hang out/chat w me/plague me with your thoughts at any time of the day; I would love to visit with all of y’all!

John was lying to her.

Or, at the very least, he was withholding information from her, which was just about as bad as lying, Elliot thought. She didn’t know what exactly he wasn’t forthcoming about—but did it matter, at this point? She could tell he was lying; he’d been all kinds of ready to leave and go and get out of Hope County, and now he was scrounging up some kind of ass-pull reason for them to stay. So did it matter? Did the distinction count?

Yes, she thought absently, as John’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles along the small of her back. Yes, I have to know what he’s lying to me about.

“Good morning,” John murmured against her neck. “How did you sleep?”

It had been three days since her baptism-gone-awry, three days of Burke occupying the bunkhouse she had been in while she had wordlessly moved into John’s space, three days of avoiding eye contact with the marshal and deferring questions about him. I don’t know, I really only knew him for a day, she’d say when John asked, or does it matter if I told him? He wouldn’t get it, the unspoken words being ‘not like you do’. She hoped, anyway.

Three days of trying to figure out what it was John wasn’t telling her.

“Like shit,” she replied tiredly as his mouth trailed along the curve of her shoulderblade. The pressure of his fingers against her sternum had her rolling onto her back to look up at him; his gaze swept over the exposed skin.

“Bruising’s clearing up,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. But he didn’t elaborate; he didn’t say, should we reveal your sin today, my love? the way that she thought he would try. It felt as though the gears in her head were still sluggishly turning, trying to piece together the entire picture of what was going on, a picture that she felt like John didn’t want her to see.

She knew exactly how it would go if she asked. What’s the game? she’d say, and John would look at her with those eyes, and lean in to kiss her, and he’d say, no game, hellcat, and she’d have to believe him because she didn’t have any empirical evidence that he was lying to her. Just a feeling, deep in her gut, twisting and wrenching.

It made it worse to know that John was looking at her with adoration.

Trailing a lazy circle below her collarbone with his fingertips, John asked, “Do you want to do it today?” and she stifled a sigh.

“I don’t know yet, about staying,” she replied, even though she did know: she wouldn’t. She would die before she crawled into a stupid fucking bunker at the behest of Joseph Seed. “I want to wait.”

John’s eyes flickered a little at her words, but he nodded. Elliot reached up, catching her hand with his and skimming the pads of her thumbs along his palm. The words sat there on the tip of her tongue: what aren’t you telling me? Why can’t you just tell me? Haven’t we been through enough, the two of us?

“Your heartline,” Elliot said instead, forcing her voice into playfulness because she couldn’t stop thinking about how Burke had told her to carry on as she had been. “Have you ever had your palm read?”

“No,” he answered amusedly, letting her nail skim along the curve of the line on his palm. “Are you an expert in palmistry?”

“My mama used to entertain tarot cards and palm readers with her ladies,” she replied. “So I listened in a lot. I suppose it isn’t very Godly to have your palm read.”

“It isn’t.” John’s eyes glittered. “But go ahead and tell me what mine says.”

She shifted a little against the pillows. On the floor by her side of the bed, Boomer let out a long, suffering sigh—like he was tired of listening to this flirtation already. For a small second in time, that feeling of peace swept over her, and she let herself bask in it. Elliot thought that she deserved that much at least.

“Your heartline shows your personality, and your quality of love,” she explained, skimming her finger along his heartline. “Yours comes all the way over, see? All the way across your palm.”

“Is that good?”

“Very,” Elliot said somberly. “It shows you have an abundance of love, and high expectations.”

John worked his jaw a little, clearly trying not to smile like he was proud of himself—like he had any control over the lines of his palm and how they worked. “I could have told you that.”

“And it curves upward,” she continued. “Which means you have great verbal dexterity.”

“I could have also told you that.”

“Undoubtedly,” she deadpanned. “Are you going to let me finish my reading?”

He flashed his teeth at her in a grin. “Please,” he said, “continue.”

Elliot clicked her tongue, turning her attention back to his hand. Inspecting for a moment, she said, “You have a upward split here, you see? That means you’re willing to sacrifice a lot for love.”

John rumbled his agreement at the statement and leaned down, kissing her shoulder.

“And these little forks here,” she added, pressing her thumb against them, “indicates a dispute on marriage.” Her eyes lifted to his, playful. “Are you intending on marrying, John? Palm says that’s a bad idea.”

For a second, John stared at her—his eyes fluttered, and he looked like he was collecting himself. Elliot sat up a little, frowning, but when she did it seemed to trigger whatever it was that was needed for him to come back to being present. Interlacing their fingers together, he pulled her forward and kissed her; and kissed her, and kissed her, until her lungs ached and she thought she was getting dizzy from not being able to take a full breath. His free hand slid down between her legs; when her lips parted to allow her to whimper, John’s teeth caught her lower lip with bruising force.

Already, heat was pooling in the pit of her stomach. Already, she could feel those telltale signs of desire, the way that John inspired it in her with just a few simple gestures.

“Want you,” John said against her mouth, guiding her onto him, settling her on his lap. Something was wrong, something she’d said had struck a strange nerve in him; but undeniably, it felt good, that his hands were trembling whenever his grip on her lessened a little. It felt good, because it felt like he needed her.

“Reading my palm is a cute trick, but—”

“How badly?” Elliot asked, before she could stop herself. John’s eyes, dark with want, raked over her as the sheets bunched at her hips. When she rocked her hips against his inquisitively, a low, strangled noise came out of him. “How badly do you want me?”

“You’re—in a mood,” John managed out. He opened his mouth to keep talking—something insufferable, Elliot was sure—but as he did, she adjusted and sank down against him, drawing out of him a low, vicious moan. His fingers dug into her hips and he hissed, “Wicked thing.”

She slid him out of her, and he groaned, miserable.

“How badly?” she asked again, less cloying this time. There was a strange kind of satisfaction that wound up in her, hot and humid, when John let her do this—let her take, let her sink her nails and her teeth into him wherever and however she wanted. Like he knew exactly what it was she needed and didn’t mind giving it to her.

Liar, something inside of her said, he’s a fucking liar, there’s something he isn’t telling us, but then John looked at her and said, “So badly, more than anything, Elliot,” and her chest tightened.

Her fingers found his shoulder and she tugged him up into a sitting position. Her mouth found his; she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled just as their hips slotted together and she sighed his name in a hitching breath. The delicious burn was almost enough to fizz her focus out of existence—with so little sleep on her agenda, it was hard enough, but then she canted her hips wantingly and sparks of red-hot pleasure went racing up her spine.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” John ground out, burying his face against her neck. “Can’t believe you’re mine, El—can’t—after all of this—”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered at his words, the uneasy sprint of happiness making her stomach churn. Something else, though, wrenched around the cavity of her chest—those words. Can’t believe you’re mine.

“John,” she managed out, breathless, “I—”

“—and I’m yours.” John kissed her and guided her hips down against him until she was moaning unsteadily. “Fuck, yes, I’m—all yours, baby, just take w-what you—need from me, give you anything, anything—”

I’m all yours, he said, in the same breath as can’t believe you’re mine, and it shouldn’t have but it felt different: in that moment, having John buried into her up to the hilt and digging his fingers into her skin and sighing her name, it shouldn’t have felt different, but it did. It did, because they belonged to each other.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, on his shoulder. She thought, he’s a liar, and she thought, I’m so afraid of losing him, too, and she thought, we belong to each other.

“Please,” Elliot moaned, but she didn’t know what she was asking for; to finish, to hear him say it again, to hear him say more, to tell her the complete and absolute truth? Did it matter, anymore?

It does matter. The distinction matters.

So she said, “You’re mine,” and she kissed him, and she said it again, and again, like a prayer; until John was saying it back, feverish and panting the delicious words against her skin, I’m yours, I’m yours, all yours.

Wicked, and wretched, and maybe a liar, but all hers.

Later, tangled together in bed, John pulled her flush against him and said against her skin, “Don’t you want it, too?”

“I do,” Elliot murmured, knowing that he was talking about the Wrath he was going to put into her skin. “There’s just... A lot after that, to think about. And I know you’ll want an answer right away—”

“Is it that hard?” he asked. “To make a decision about staying or leaving?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

John frowned. “I just—”

“You just want me to say yes to whatever it is you want,” Elliot snapped. “I’d like to remind you that you told me we’d go as soon as this was done.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, Elliot. I’m just—”

And then he paused, like something wanted to come out of him that he didn’t want to say, like he’d caught himself before he’d make a fool of himself. All this time, and Elliot thought she’d never see John vulnerable, not really in the way that she wanted—he’d seen her crying and broken and grieving, and she’d seen him in intimate glimpses, but not completely.

“You’re just what?” she asked, brows pulling together.

John’s fingers traced along her sternum, spelling out WRATH, much like he had done that evening at her mother’s house.

“They’re my family,” he said after a moment. “He gave me everything.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in her chest. “I know.”

“That includes you, too.” John leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “He brought me you. I know you don’t believe, hellcat, but if nothing happens then what did we lose? Nothing. I just get to keep my family.”

Her lashes fluttered, exhaustion seeping over her bones again. It was late into the morning, but already she wanted to close her eyes.

“I told you before,” she whispered. “I told you. You can’t have both. You can’t put one foot in both worlds, John.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. He ducked his head against her neck and kissed there, and she thought about what he’d said that night in the bar.

Outside of my loyalty to Joseph, there’s you, and I want both.

I want you too, Elliot.

We can have a place to belong.

She thought about Jerome’s voice over the radio. You don’t have to Atlas this thing, deputy.

She thought about Joey, holding her tight. I never doubted you’d be able to get me.

She thought about how, at twenty-five, she had to bury her best friend in the fucking ground.

John was lying to her about something. He wasn’t telling her everything, and maybe she had always known that it would be like this, between them: maybe, down in the marrow of her bones, she had always known they would end up at odds with each other, John trapped between two worlds that he wanted and neither side willing to budge.

Something has to be done, she thought tiredly, as John’s fingers smoothed along her hip, and I’m going to have to fucking do it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’ve gotta get them out of here, Rook.”

Burke’s words stayed there, lingering in the air between them. It was late in the afternoon, and John was with his brothers and Faith in the chapel, and she’d ducked into Burke’s bunkhouse between guard shifts to grab a quick word with him. As soon as she told him that John had been pushing to get her sin revealed sooner than the original week he’d told her, Burke’s frown had deepened.

“They’re planning on getting it over with and getting the fuck out,” he said, pacing the tiny bunkhouse room. “There’s no way I’m getting to that radio with them all here. They think the world’s going to end, and that they need to be in their bunkers to survive it. If they get locked in there, Elliot, then—”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get them all out of here,” she replied irritably. “You do realize that I’m only—John’s the only—”

Burke waved his hand to stop her from elaborating. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to discuss the nature of her relationship with John beyond what the base information: they had indulged in a physical relationship, and an emotional one, and now Elliot’s priorities included him. As best they could.

“He wants to do the… Ceremony,” Elliot continued, mouth twisting around the only word she could think to say without making it macabre, “soon. And I just think that if I push it all the way out, then it’ll stir up suspicion, after I told him I wanted to—”

“What if you didn’t?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“What if you didn’t push it out?” Burke continued, slowly, pitching his voice quieter and more urgent when he noticed movement outside. “What if you asked for it to be done sooner? But just—somewhere else? Not here? Make up something about how you don’t have good memories here, and…”

“And ask for his family to be there,” Elliot finished, “so that they have to leave you here?”

Burke nodded. His gaze darted to the window again, and she knew that they were running out of time. “You’ll still be guarded.”

“I can handle a few of these fuckers,” he replied, waving his hand. “Most of them are scattered out, getting supplies. I hear them complaining about it outside all the time. I’ll get that radio, see if I can hear any chatter, and tell them where to find you. ”

I need more time, she thought, but she knew that she wouldn’t get it. Not now. Her deadline had been set for her—by Joseph, by John, and even a little bit by Burke. She was this close to being done, to being—

Free.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, yes, I can do that. I’ll ask them to take me to the ranch, and—I can do that.”

“I know,” Burke said, and he had never sounded more confident; he planted his hands on her shoulders and looked at her, the clarity having returned from his Bliss-induced high. He hesitated, and then said, “The ceremony—”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want you to know,” he plunged on, “it doesn’t matter, but I want you to know that you aren’t… That isn’t all of who you are.” His hands squeezed shoulders, the pressure welcoming and comforting and nauseating all at once. How strange, that kindness sickened her, now. “Wrath.”

Elliot paused, swallowing thickly. “I should go,” she said, because Burke still didn’t know what she’d done to Kian, still didn’t know the full extent of her body count or the way she’d felt when she killed a man. How it felt good, now—satisfying, an instant hit of dopamine centered around control.

“The back window,” Burke said, gesturing. “So the guards don’t wonder.”

“It’s all very exciting,” Elliot added. She tried for lightness, pushing the window up. “Subterfuge.”

“Just try not to say that where anyone can hear you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We’ve nearly collected the last of the supplies,” Joseph said, pacing absently back and forth. “How long do you think, Jacob?”

“A day, at most,” the redhead replied. “They’re working quickly, without all of these interruptions.” Jacob paused, and then turned his gaze at John. His mouth twisted for a moment, and John could tell his older brother was trying not to smile when he continued, “What’s your timeline, John?”

“The same,” John replied tightly.

“A day at most?”

“No, the same as before,” he clarified, even though he knew Jacob was doing it on purpose. “You gave me a timeline and that’s what I’m working with.”

“It’s just, you sounded very confident about your ability to wrangle the deputy,” his eldest brother continued, “and you’ve always been an overachiever.”

Joseph was looking at him expectantly. John knew that they wanted him to say that Elliot had insisted on doing it sooner, that she’d fully acquiesced to staying with him, that he had fully convinced her, down to every molecule of her being, that what they were doing was right and just and undeniably truthful.

But he hadn’t. Their conversation this morning only proved that more to him. You can’t have both, she’d said, like she still thought of herself as a separate entity from him, from his family. But she wasn’t; where else would she find people who would accept her, unconditionally?

Well, mostly unconditionally. There was one condition: believing. The most difficult one for her, he thought.

“I can spend more time with her,” Faith supplied, helpfully. “Maybe she’s tired of being around you boys all the time. You can be...” Her gaze flickered, and she tilted her chin a little, smiling. “A little heavy-handed. It’s possible that a lighter touch is necessary to bring the deputy around.”

“First, you should stop calling her that,” John pointed out, and he felt a little more than petulant saying it. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Elliot was naturally inclined to open up to Faith more easily, and he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it did still bother him, sitting right in the back of his mind. Always away but never forgotten. “Continuing to refer to her as “the deputy” is only going to further cement her ties to her past life.”

“Well,” Jacob demurred, “we can’t all call her baby, can we, John?”

“If you have a problem with me enjoying the marital bed,” John bit out, “then I think perhaps you spend some time reflecting inwardly on why that’s such a—”

The door to the chapel creaked as it was pushed open. Swallowing back his words quickly, he turned and glanced over his shoulder to see Elliot, hesitating in the doorway. Boomer lingered just behind her, sat at the bottom of the stairs, ever obedient.

“I can come back,” she said, sounding uncertain.

“Not at all,” Joseph replied, before John could tell her maybe that would be best. “Please, come in.”

She did, letting the door swing shut behind her, and moved tentatively toward the front. He wondered how it felt for her—coming in here, with all of them looking at her, much the same way she had the day that set the events in motion that brought her back to them.

John wondered, too, if Joseph had known this all along; if the things that he heard and saw had shown him that Elliot would always come back here, to them. Our deputy, he’d always said, without fail.

“I want to do it,” Elliot said, as she approached. “Soon. As soon as possible.”

Silence reigned supreme for a moment, before John said, “That’s great, Elliot. We can get started with—”

“But I don’t want to do it here,” she interrupted, bringing John’s mouth to a full stop.

“More fucking demands,” Jacob muttered under his breath.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Joseph said, watching her curiously. The way they had been, he was the closest to Elliot, with a table separating her from John. His fingers itched. “If you’re worried about the safety of it, I am sure John is more than equipped to—”

“This is supposed to be cleansing, isn’t it?” Elliot asked. “Regardless of how you feel, Joey’s body was put on display here. I don’t want this to be the place where I...”

Her voice trailed off, and her gaze darted elsewhere, mouth pressing into a thin line. John said, “I don’t think going somewhere else would be a problem. Where did you have in mind?”

“The ranch,” she replied, sounding relieved. “Feels fitting.”

As John stifled a smile, Joseph said, “Well, we’ll need to clear out the bodies, but I’m sure that can be done.”

“That’s manpower,” Jacob protested.

“You were just talking about how quickly they were getting things done,” John replied. “Weren’t you? Ahead of schedule. Over-achieving, I think.”

Jacob’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click and grind of his molars, and for once, John felt a sweeping thrill of victory. It was coming together, right there, in front of him—in front of his brothers, and Faith. All of the witnessing the fruits of his labor.

“Fine,” Jacob acquiesced, at last. “But it’ll take them a few hours.”

“Perfect.” John smiled, looking at Elliot across the table, Joseph’s figure nearly eclipsing her. “Then Elliot and I will head out as soon as we hear that the bodies have been properly disposed of.”

“There’s one more thing,” Elliot began, looking uncertain, and drawing all eyes back to her again even as Joseph had moved to place his hand on Faith’s shoulder. When they had watched expectantly for long enough, she continued, “I want—everyone there.”

“Everyone?” John asked, the word souring in his mouth.

“Not—of Eden’s Gate. Just… All of you,” she elaborated.

John could feel the surprise, bubbling fresh and unexpected, between his siblings as they exchanged glances.

“Even me?” Jacob asked, and John saw the grin splitting across his face.

“Even you,” Elliot replied, dryly. “Against my better judgment, I’m sure.”

“I’m touched, honey.”

Clearing his throat, John walked around the table briskly, muttering a quick excuse us as he guided Elliot away from the front of the chapel and down the walkway a little.

“You want my family there?” he asked, keeping his voice low as his siblings chatted quietly amongst themselves. Jacob was grinning wolfishly, looking very pleased with himself, which was something John didn’t necessarily like. “Normally, it’s more of a—a private affair, and that’s how I pictured it with you—”

“This is important to me,” Elliot said, watching him. “And they’re important to you. Aren’t they?”

John swallowed. “Well, yes, but…”

“John,” she murmured, her fingers loosely tangled with his, “I’ll stay, after.”

He blinked at her. “You’ll—?”

“Yes.” Her gaze flickered over his, her voice low as she struggled through the words. “I’ll stay here, with you—and your family. After it’s done. I just… Need to close the chapter.”

I fucking did it, he thought, certain that he was going to grin like a complete maniac if he didn’t keep himself in check. I fucking got her. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they doubted me.

“Of course,” he managed out, somehow keeping his voice steady despite the rush of butterflies banging against his rib cage. “Of course, hellcat, anything you want.”

“Okay.” She paused, and then reached up and kissed him—willingly, of her own volition, in front of his siblings, she kissed him, and then sat back on her feet. “In a day, then?”

“In a day,” John promised, their noses brushing. “We’ll really belong to each other.”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered. She looked a little more tired than before, but it was hard to tell this close; and if it bothered her at all—if it was changing her mood—it didn’t show. He felt her smile against his mouth.

“Yes,” she murmured, just the way that he liked. “Completely.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jacob stopped by the bunkhouse with Joseph that evening to let him know they’d dispatched the men to clean out the ranch of any remaining corpses; they’d do it through the night, to better assist Elliot in her revelations. It seemed that the members of Eden’s Gate were just as relieved as the siblings themselves that the deputy was no longer and adversary, but joining them.

Which still left the matter of Cameron Burke.

“I say we kill him,” Jacob announced, glancing over John’s shoulder to ensure Elliot wasn’t there—and never before had John been more grateful for the blonde’s need to go on exorbitantly long walks out of the compound. “Quick and easy.”

“Well,” John said, “that is what I had thought you intended before, yet here we are, with him still on our hands.”

“We are lucky that our brother cares so much as to run our deputy through such trials,” Joseph interceded serenely, before a spat could break out. “And that she passed. With flying colors, I think.”

“That’s a little generous.”

“At any rate, that we’ve moved up this celebration for her is good,” the blonde continued. “I hear that the Family may not all be finished. Jacob mentioned that his scouts saw movement, out close to the Whitetails.”

John frowned. No good, he thought, but then—what about all of those dead couples he and Elliot had seen? Paired, holding hands, flowers blooming from wherever they could fit them? How was it determined which ones would off themselves and which ones stuck around?

“Now that we have all of the supplies we need,” Jacob said, “we don’t have to worry about getting rid of them.” He shrugged. “Let the apocalypse finish them off.”

“Well.” John clapped his hands together. “I’ve quite a day to prepare for tomorrow, I think. And when it’s all done, we’ll be ready to settle in.”

Joseph and Jacob exchanged looks, just for a moment, before Jacob said, “Night, Johnny,” and set off, leaving Joseph alone in front of the doorway to the bunkhouse. When he looked at John, his expression unreadable, something uneasy crawled and settled down at the base of his spine.

“I have something for you,” Joseph said. “Come with me to the chapel?”

Trying not to recognize that dread, lest he give it more legs than it already had, John nodded his head. “Of course. Though, you know you never have to…”

“It’s the least I could do,” his brother interjected lightly, waiting patiently as he closed the door to his temporary base of operations and then fell into step with him to the chapel. The evening was brisk and chilly, and when Joseph said, “And where is our deputy?” John stifled a rueful smile.

“Taking a walk, with Faith,” John replied. “And the dog, of course.”

“Of course.” He saw a smile ticking the corner of his brother’s mouth, small and almost imperceptible. “It’s nice that they get along, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he agreed, “like she was always meant to be with us.”

Joseph paused outside the chapel’s doors, reaching up and giving John’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just like.”

They stepped inside. It was cool and quiet; nobody remained. The radio flickering through channels was the only noise, and they rang empty and static, not a peep out there. He wondered if the remaining members of the Family were just looking for a place to rest, or a way to get out; maybe they didn’t want anything, anymore.

He followed his brother to the front of the chapel. On the table was the map they’d been using, a few scribbled notes in Jacob’s hand-writing, and a manila envelope.

Joseph picked up the envelope and held it out to John. He took it, and then glanced inquisitively up at his brother.

“Is this—?”

“Her file,” Joseph confirmed. “What we gathered on her prior to the Collapse. Also in there are my notes from her confession, as well as what appears to be diary entries, recovered from where Kian had tried to hunt the two of you.”

Holy shit, John thought, because sitting in his hands was the exact thing that he’d wanted from the beginning. Everything that he wanted to know about Elliot was right there: waiting to be read, devoured, committed to memory. He would know every single part of her, every wretched thing she had ever done, every loss she had ever suffered, every—

“And,” Joseph continued, “your marriage certificate.”

John glanced up at his brother. Suddenly, the envelope felt—different. Like an ultimatum. If he learned all of this about Elliot, and she got suspicious because he suddenly knew so much about her, and she asked where he found out and he told her—and he would have to tell her—she’d want to see it and then. And then.

And then.

“I think it’s time, John,” his brother said. “I know that you haven’t told our deputy about this arrangement. She is your wife, after all, before the eyes of this congregation and God.”

“Right,” John murmured, swallowing. “Yeah, of course. I planned on it. After tomorrow. It feels fitting, to tell her then.”

Maybe it would be better to tell her in the bunker, he thought absently, and then shoved that immediately away. No, fuck, no, I have to tell her. Tomorrow, after we finish everything.

“Good.” Joseph smiled, and for the first time in a long time he smiled with teeth, and the expression on his brother’s face almost unnerved him. He reached up, and his fingers brushed the nape of John’s neck, tilting him forward so that their foreheads pressed together.

Relief, hot and overwhelming, washed straight through him. They had been so at odds that John thought he might have forgotten what it was like to be in his brother’s good graces, but here he was.

“I am so proud of all that you have done for me, for our family, for Eden’s Gate.” Joseph’s voice rang in the hollow of his bones, vibrating straight through him, spiking in him a delirious rush of pride. “You have done so well, John, despite all that God has done to test you.”

Oh, there it was: everything in him said, finally, finally, finally, someone sees me, and he was reminded of why it was he owed Joseph so much. Because he gave him this.

“I’m—” John felt the words choke and stutter on the way out of him. It was almost too much—the finish line was in sight. Elliot had said, you can’t have both, but he could. He could, and he was going to, and it was here right in front of him.

Waiting.

“Thank you,” he managed out. “Thank you, Joseph. I only ever wanted to make you proud.”

“I know.” Joseph smiled, hand pressed against the back of John’s head, holding him gently. “I know.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leaving the chapel, John was cruising on cloud nine; he had everything. Everything. Nobody was going to take it from him. No stupid cult, no last-minute hail mary’s from the opposing team—

As he passed by a window into the bunkhouse that had been Elliot’s before Burke had made it his home, John stopped and leaned against the siding of the house, tapping on the window. Burke was sitting at the table, leaned back, eyes closed; when the sound of John’s finger against the glass rattled again, he opened one eye.

John waved, and grinned. “Hi, bud.”

Burke stared at him. He gestured for the Marshal to push his window up, and after a few exasperated gestures, he did—reluctantly.

“Seed,” he said, tiredly. “Particular reason you’re not fuckin’ off?”

“Just wanted to stop by,” John replied slyly. “See how you were holding up. The impending apocalypse must be weighing heavily on you.”

Burke stared at him for a moment. He worked a toothpick between his teeth. His hands and feet were both cuffed, and the guards standing outside of the bunkhouse seemed to be concerned with his tone when he said, “Can’t wait to beat that shit-eating grin off of your face.”

“That’s not very professional,” John drawled. “Won’t that look poorly, in front of all of your little friends?”

“They’ll avert their eyes to let me give you some extra special attention.” Burke lifted his chin, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and spitting out the window, nearly landing on John’s shoes. “Promise.”

Impudent, John thought. Burke really just couldn’t let him have a moment, could he? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Marshal,” he said, straightening up from the window and taking a step away. “I like it rough.”

And then he paused, turning on his heel like a swivel and lifted a finger thoughtfully.

“If you want some pointers on what I like,” he added pleasantly, “you can always ask Elliot.”

Burke’s eyes narrowed. “Your little brainwashed cultist? I think I’ll pass.” he asked, and John’s smile plummeted, wiped off of his face.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he hissed. “You’re the failing party here, Cameron Burke. You’re going to be the one suffering when the End comes for you.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Burke replied, “better get goin’, shouldn’t you?”

John’s teeth snapped together with a click, pain shooting up through his jaw as his molars ground. Petulant and arrogant, all the way to the very end, wasn’t he? He supposed that made it a little bit better that Jacob was going to off him.

He had everything he wanted, and not even Cameron Burke was going to take that from him.

John flashed a smile, all teeth, and held his arms out. “I suppose I should,” he replied. “Have a nice ceremony tomorrow to prepare. Though, I don’t have to tell you—you’ll be there for it, won’t you? A front row seat and all.”

Even in the dark of the growing evening, he could see Burke’s jaw clench. The Marshal pulled back from the window and slammed it shut, signaling his exit from the conversation; if John had been in a worse mood, he would have stormed right in there and shown Burke exactly what the consequences were for trying to run the show.

But there wasn’t time, because just as he was debating the logistics of doing so, he heard a dog barking in the distance and the sound of familiar voices.

“Hi, John,” Faith sing-songed at him, swinging Elliot’s hand in her own as they approached. “Isn’t it a bit late? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” John replied with a quick smile, which was not necessarily a lie.

“Too excited,” his sister agreed playfully. 

As they approached, he could see the circles beneath Elliot’s eyes had darkened. She really wasn’t sleeping, was she? Reaching up with his free hand as soon as she was close enough, he brushed some loose strands of hair from her face and guided her close, his fingers tangling into her hair at the base of her skull and his mouth finding her temple. Faith giggled and waved her fingers at Elliot, breezing past him on her way to the chapel.

He asked, “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“It was dark,” Elliot replied, by way of explanation. Boomer sniffed around their feet and then cocked his head, listening while his eyes fixed on the dark treeline. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” John asked, distracted by Boomer’s sudden alertness. “Oh, the envelope?”

“No, John, this stupid fucking Hot Topic belt I’ve seen you wear all the time.” Elliot pulled back to look at him, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Yes, the envelope.”

He opened his mouth to respond, trying to decide if he wanted to be upfront with her about it or not; he was so caught up in his decision that he didn’t even have the time to be offended by her remark about his belt before he said, “We should go back to our house, don’t you think? The company here’s a little sour.”

Elliot’s gaze swept around curiously, and when she spotted Burke through the window, she said, “Ah.”

“You never did tell me how your talk went,” he added, taking her hand and beginning to pull her away. “Good? Bad?”

The blonde watched him for a moment, like he’d said something a little too suspicious. “It really bothers you when you don’t know what exactly is going on, doesn’t it?”

John feigned a pleased smile. “It’s my job to know what’s going on.”

“I thought it was your job to talk incessantly?”

“I am multi-faceted.”

They reached the door to their shared space—and that was a nice little thought, their space, like they had a place that belonged to the two of them—and as Elliot stepped inside, she said, “Burke wanted to know what had happened.”

John closed the door behind them, pausing and looking at her for a moment; he tried to glean any insight he could out of her expression, but he couldn’t. He could only see quiet exhaustion sitting on her face, just there, just within his reach.

“And?” he prompted, when she failed to elaborate. She walked into the bathroom and turned the water on, washing her face; quickly, John opened the envelope and thumbed through the documents until he found what he was looking for. He slid the paper beneath the nightstand beside the bed and shut the envelope, smoothing the metal pins out. There, he thought, like it was never opened.

“I told him the truth,” Elliot replied from the bathroom, shutting the water off. “About the Family. About—you. And your siblings.”

“Well, he did refer to you as my ‘little brainwashed cultist’, so I imagine that conversation didn’t go well.”

The blonde stepped out of the bathroom, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him for a moment. That was answer enough, he supposed—whatever friendliness had lingered between Elliot and Burke seemed to have been decimated by the reality of their situation.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“It’s your file,” John said, plainly. Elliot’s jaw tensed.

“My file,” she reiterated.

“Yes. All of the things Joseph had on you before, including your confession to him and some papers they found in Kian’s bag of belongings. Back in the woods.”

Her eyes flickered, and she exhaled, long and tired. He could tell that she didn’t like that he had it. She had so desperately tried to keep him from knowing what it was that haunted her, though he had mostly pieced it together by now—an ex-boyfriend gone bad, the resulting fallout, all wadded up into a tiny ball of trauma that sat right in her ribs. All of those times Elliot had tried to cling to those shreds of control—and everything about her had been handed to him in a manila envelope. He imagined that it was quite frustrating.

John offered, “I haven’t looked at it.”

“Why not?”

“I thought,” he began, carefully, “that you might want it. For yourself.”

Elliot looked at him warily. “You’re just going to give it to me?”

“Elliot,” he said as he closed the space between them, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’ll give you anything you want.” John reached up, brushing his fingers against the slope of her neck, feeling the way her pulse jumped at the contact. “Besides, I have you. What do I need the file for?”

He wanted it. He wanted to read her file, learn every gritty detail about her, memorize them the same way she’d memorized his scars and tattoos with her fingers; to know her, inside and out, so that there wasn’t a single dark corner of her that he didn’t have completely.

“Throw it away,” Elliot murmured. “I don’t want it. I don’t want it anywhere. Please, just throw it away.”

“If that’s what you really want,” John agreed.

“It is.”

She leaned up and kissed him; her hands cradling his jaw and pulling him there, her mouth soft and compliant against his. He dropped the envelope in favor of getting both of his hands on her, walking her back against the nearest wall and sliding his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. Elliot’s breath stuttered and hitched prettily, but she pulled back until her mouth was just out of his reach.

Still, though her head was tilted otherwise, her fingers tugged on the front of his shirt and crowded him against her, close. If he thought about it too hard—about the way they had begun, hissing and spitting, and how they were now—he’d have thought he was dreaming, how she wanted him in her space now.

“Let’s go,” the blonde said, her voice urgent. “Tonight. To the ranch.”

“You—” John paused, watching her. “You want to go tonight? Why not tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to be here,” she murmured, “in the compound. I want—”

Elliot stopped, then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “I want to have some time,” she continued, “with you, before... Everything. Just us.” Her mouth twisted in what John thought could only be a playful smile. “Like old times.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, narrowing his eyes amusedly. “Which times are those? The times where you told me to go fuck myself, or—”

“I think you liked it.”

“Your mouth is one of my favorite things about you, yes.”

“So,” she continued, “can we go tonight?”

John, propped up against the wall with her caged between his arms, studied her for a moment. It wouldn’t be bad to get some time away from the compound that wasn’t some kind of macabre venture out into Fall’s End, haunting her with all of the things she used to have and had once been.

“Sure,” he said finally, “I don’t see why not. Just a little time for us.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Though he had been less than thrilled about the idea of Elliot being outside of the compound, Jacob had confirmed that the ranch was cleaned out of bodies and ready for them. When they swept past Burke in the bunkhouse, watching them through the window, John’s eyes went to Elliot—trying to see if there was anything in her expression, trying to see if there was a blink of affection or recognition.

There wasn’t. Elliot walked past without looking at the U.S. Marshal and swung into the driver’s side of the truck, and when John reached across the console to drop the keys in her hand, her gaze and expression were clear of any cloudiness.

When they got to the ranch, it was quiet; the lights had been left on, and while John knew that the bodies were gone and cleaned out, he still braced himself for impact when they walked in. The bookshelf had been righted again, and the strong smell of cleaning solution lingered in the air, but for the most part, everything was exactly where he’d left it.

It was a shame, then, that soon they’d be slipping underground.

“Bleach,” Elliot said, walking up the stairs after him. “How romantic.”

“It’s your mess they were cleaning,” John replied dryly, flashing her a grin over his shoulder. “In case you forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

He pushed the door open to the master bedroom, taking in a little breath and turning to look at Elliot. She was inspecting the room, and for a second, John almost felt self-conscious—that she was here, now, with him. In his home. Touching his things. Looking at him.

It was almost unnerving to think about; that some time ago, she had been viciously looking for any way out. But of course, she had come around. She was always going to come around, one way or another. He thought about the way she’d spit Go fuck yourself, John, the way she’d tried her hardest to be as obtuse and unhelpful as possible, how she’d said in the bar you can’t have both but here he was.

Here she was.

There was only one thing left standing in the way, and it was something he had all the power in the world to change if he wanted to.

“What are you thinking about?” the blonde asked, arching a brow at him loftily.

“You,” John said, and it wasn’t a lie. Her lashes fluttered and she almost looked shy, for a moment; when he reached out and tugged her close by the belt loop of her jeans, he added, “What do you think about getting married?”

With her hands steadying herself on his chest, she barked out a laugh. “In general? Or us getting married?”

“Primarily the latter.”

“I—” Elliot blinked, and shook her head. “I don’t... What do you mean, what do I think about us getting married?”

“Do you like the idea?” John prompted. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the slope of her jaw.

“We’ve barely been together,” she murmured. “And—you still piss me off.”

“That’s amore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot groaned, and John grinned, sliding his arms around her to pull her closer still. He hoisted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed; when he’d settled her there, on her back and with her legs looped loosely around his waist, she watched him for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to get married.”

John cocked his head. “Not even once?”

“Not even once.”

“And why not?”

“Why would I?” she retorted. “The only marriage I ever saw was my dad dragging my mama’s credit through the dirt and then fucking off the second he got tired of playing house. Giving up my last name to someone? Letting someone take that away from me?”

John leaned down, pushing her sweater up and pressing his mouth to the curve of her hip cutting up and over her jeans. Her breath stuttered for a moment, and she squirmed when he let his tongue slide along one of her scars.

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” he said, “but marriage isn’t all about giving. It’s about receiving, too.”

He watched the heat crawl into her cheeks, undoing the button of her jeans and sliding them down until they pooled on the floor with a whisper. She said she’d never wanted to get married, but he thought after tomorrow—after she saw how beautiful it would be, to have her sin revealed and in the open—she would change her mind. For him, she would.

Elliot let out a sharp, stuttering breath. “Come here,” she said, tugging on him a little to guide him back up to her. He obliged, and she tangled her fingers into his hair and kissed him; long and patient, lips parting beneath his and her tongue flickering playfully against his mouth. She skimmed her fingers along his chest, down until she could undo his belt and pull it from the loops, discarding it on the floor.

“Miss Honeysett,” John murmured.

“John,” she replied, as her fingers deftly undid his jeans.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“You did take my pants off.”

He laughed, the sound sweeping out of him just before Elliot pulled him down into another kiss. She shifted and squirmed against him, pushing and working with her fingers until they were skin on skin. There was a second, a heartbeat of time, where Elliot paused, her gaze flickering over him.

“I want—a home,” she said, her voice quiet, “with you. I don’t have one anymore, and I...”

John dragged his fingers along the exposed skin of her sternum, down and down and down, and she sucked in a sharp little breath the second he found exactly he was looking for.

“You have it,” he replied against her mouth, and a spike of heat sprinted up his spine when he beckoned his fingers against her and she whimpered. “You have it, El, I told you—”

Elliot’s nails dug into his shoulder and she said, “John,” and her voice plunged a little when she did, pitching high and sweet and just the way that he liked it; he mouthed a spot on her neck, sighing against her skin.

“Love those sounds you make,” he murmured. “So good for me.”

“Yes,” Elliot said breathlessly, turning her head so that their noses could brush, “yes, I am, for you—so, please—”

So, please, she said, so sweetly, wanting and hurting and needy as she clutched him, as her breath hitched in anticipation when John pressed up against her, slow and without urgency.

“Is this what you wanted to come here for?” John rumbled against her mouth, breathing unsteady. “So I could f—fuck you in peace and quiet?”

The blonde moaned her agreement as she kissed him. Her body arched up against his, impatient, and when he finally pressed into her all the way, she let out a sigh, her fingers twisting in his hair.

It was too good; too tight, too hot, and the way Elliot held him close, like she thought she was going to disappear if she didn’t keep her grip on him, made the trickle of heat turn into a wildfire splitting through his body. He groaned, the pace excruciating and delicious as he made sure to take each drag as slow as possible.

“F-Fucking—faster,” Elliot whimpered against his mouth, “John—”

“No,” he ground out, slotting his hips against hers tightly before drawing back out again. “You have to—I want you just like this, hellcat—”

She made a sweet keening noise and rocked her hips up, impatient; each time she did sent another sharp jolt of desire sprinting through him, and he bit out a low swear and gripped her hip with one hand.

“Brat,” he moaned. “Wants everything her way but can’t—f-fucking—behave.”

“Fuck you,” Elliot replied, but there was no real heat in her words; she said it in a broken, stuttering breath. “What if I want you faster? What if I want you to fuck me until you just can’t stand it—”

“Stop.” John gritted the words out between his teeth; if there was one thing that sent him to his undoing, it was Elliot and her filthy mouth. “God, you—fucking—”

Elliot dragged him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and slick and wanting, and she begged, “John, I want you so badly—I need—”

And her words stuttered for a moment, like she was catching herself before she could say something that she thought might be embarrassing. John’s hand came up and pressed to her jaw, tilting her face back to him so that he could see her; gazing at him through her lashes, flushed and lips kiss-reddened and eyes dreamy and dazed.

“Tell me,” he managed out, through the haze of his own pleasure. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” Elliot moaned, “I need you, John.”

“Fuck,” John ground out. He was powerless to go against her wishes when she was looking at him like that, and saying I need you, and twisting her fingers in his hair and—

And when he snapped into her, she sighed his name like a prayer, like he was holy, and he thought that it would have been a crime not to give her what she wanted. It was almost as good as taking it slow; hearing Elliot whimper yes yes yes into their liplock as he fucked her, rough and a little unforgiving, nearly sent him spiraling.

When he slipped a hand between them, dragging the pad of his thumb across the neediest part of her, he felt her tighten; closecloseclose, it said, and Elliot made a wrecked, desperate sound and kissed him just as she came unraveled, panting his name.

His followed close behind—it hit hard, a strange, empty moment just before the ricocheting pleasure rattled around in his skeleton. John buried his face into Elliot’s neck and moaned, gripping her tight to him, and she arched up a little into him and made him hiss.

“You,” he said breathlessly into her neck, “are getting too comfortable using that filthy mouth of yours to get what you want.”

She laughed, raking her fingers through his hair. “You like it.”

“I’ve said that I do.”

“How much?” Elliot idled, and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Wicked thing, aren’t you?” he asked, instead of answering her question. Her lashes fluttered, and when John leaned down and dragged his teeth against her pulse point, she made a soft, sweet sound, squirming in his arms.

“I’m going to sleep,” she announced. Having disentangled themselves and slipped under the covers, she settled back against the pillows and he was reminded, once again, of the dark circles lingering under her eyes. “Feels like I have slept a fucking wink in the compound.”

“Fine,” John agreed, kissing her temple. “You’ll need your rest for tomorrow, anyway.”

It took some time for them to fall asleep; Elliot slept more fitfully than he, and each time she shifted or sighed or rolled it woke him up, too. Eventually, the blonde settled with her face tucked against John’s chest, her fingers absently tracing over the shape of his scar until her breathing slowed and she drifted back off.

Sometime around three in the morning, she stirred, sliding out of bed and making her way to the bathroom. John reached over to the nightstand and picked up his watch to squint at it in the dark. He heard the sink running, and the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar.

“Can’t believe it’s almost the end of November,” he said, out loud and to no one in particular, though Elliot’s head peeked out of the bathroom. She’d wrapped herself in his robe, cinching it tight around her waist.

“It is?” she asked, tiredly. “What’s the date?”

“The twenty-first.”

Elliot stilled for a moment. A strange emotion swept over her face; he thought that it was almost sadness. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

John set the watch back down on the nightstand. “Well, perfect timing then. I just gave you an incredible birthday present. How old are you turning? And why do you look so terribly distressed?”

“Fuck off,” she muttered when he grinned at her. “Twenty-six, asshole.” And then, like an afterthought: “It’s just that normally by now, I’m—”

The blonde cut herself off, and then shook her head, rubbing her eyes tiredly and walking back into the bathroom to turn the water off.

“Elliot?” he called. “What is it?”

“Just weird,” she replied after a minute, “being... Having a birthday. Here. Like this.”

He settled back against the pillow. “Come back to bed.”

She did as he asked, obliging him as she slid back under the blankets and covers. The robe was still on, and he pulled at the hem of it playfully. Elliot somehow looked more tired than before; and her eyes didn’t quite meet his, like she was somewhere very far away from him.

“Looks good on you,” he murmured. “Blue’s your color.”

Elliot’s attention snapped to him. “Faith said the same thing.”

“Great minds.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting to the other side in bed so that John could tug her back against his chest, burying his face into her neck. When her breathing finally slowed a little, and regulated, John felt himself finally start to relax.

I can have both, he thought, as he began to drift back off. I can, and I will.

｡☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆｡

When Elliot awoke the next morning, the first thing that she thought was, I’m late.

It hit her differently in the cold light of day, to think her period was delayed. That’s probably what it was, anyway—a delay. Lots of things could fuck around with the timing of a period, right?

The second thing she thought was, today’s the day.

Things did seem oddly calm, as they went about their morning; they showered, and John kissed her smelling like expensive soap, and his hands went to the places he loved the most—her hips, her hair, her jaw. It was like they’d fallen into a routine with each other, in just this short period of time; but then, she supposed, that was very natural to have happened, considering that they spent so much time with each other now.

“We should do it downstairs,” Elliot said as John busied himself with some coffee. Boomer had sprinted outside at the first opportunity, taking off into the treeline to burn some of his energy off.

“Downstairs?” he asked, glancing at her. “In the room?”

“Seems fitting.”

He shrugged, sliding a cup of coffee her way and leaning across the counter. “Whatever you want, baby.”

The sound of car doors closing and voices outside stirred her attention away from John’s mouth—a wholly distracting thing—but when she turned to see the Seeds walking through the front door of the ranch, she felt her stomach plummet.

“Brought a plus one,” Jacob announced, shoving Burke forward. “Hope you don’t mind.” He fixed Elliot with his gaze. “Caught him snooping around the chapel. Isn’t that weird?”

“I—” Elliot’s brain fuzzed viciously, static biting through all other noise. Burke’s lip was split and he had a nasty black eye forming. Oh, no, she thought, oh, no, no, no, no. This is so fucking bad.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I couldn’t trust anyone to keep an eye on him, so unfortunately, that is now my job.”

“No,” Elliot said abruptly, drawing all eyes on her. “I’m—I don’t want him here.”

“Elliot,” John murmured.

“Then what do you propose I do with him?” Jacob demanded.

“I don’t know, that isn’t my fucking job,” she snapped. With the siblings all looking at her, Burke took a second and very gently, very resolutely, shook his head no.

Her mind went frantic. What does that mean? Does that mean stop kicking up a fuss? Does that mean he got to the radio? Or that he didn’t? What the fuck is the plan, now?

Joseph said, gentle, “I’m afraid we just can’t afford to lose track of him, Elliot.”

She felt fingers brushing hers. John had come around the kitchen island, and now their fingers were interlaced. It felt like she was on some kind of precipice, some great, plunging cliff into a void, and all she could do was stand by hopelessly as everything pushed her towards the edge.

She didn’t want Burke to watch. She didn’t want him to see her let John carve WRATH into her skin, but most of all—most of all, she didn’t want Burke to see that maybe it would feel good, for her, a catharsis.

“Fine,” she managed out after a moment, watching Burke’s eyes flutter shut in what might have been relief. Or suffering. “Fine, whatever.”

“Well,” Joseph murmured, “shall we get started? There’s a full day ahead of us.”

As they moved down the stairs, Elliot swallowed thickly and tried to clear and compose her brain. Everything did feel just a little bit like it was too much. Joseph there, his shoulder brushing hers; Faith and John, chatting like it was nothing to have her sit down in a chair in the middle of the room where she had been kept captive; Jacob, shoving Burke into the room and on his knees.

It was too much. She would just have to pray that Burke had gotten a chance with the radio before Jacob found him.

“We’re going to have to take your shirt off,” John said, moving into her vision, and didn’t sound like he regretted that in the least. A little rush of relief coursed through her when she realized she’d be able to focus on someone familiar—none of Joseph’s prying eyes or Faith’s sweet smiles to unsettle and unseat her. Just her, and John.

“How long is this going to take?” Burke asked, his voice bordering on vicious. Jacob gave him a little jostle.

“Why? You got somewhere to be, friend?”

Elliot barely heard them. Her eyes, her thoughts, were on John; when her shirt was discarded to the side, he skimmed his fingers along her sternum, eyes bright.

“It’s going to look so good,” he murmured, and she knew that he wasn’t paying attention to them, either. He’d seemed disappointed when she asked someone else to be there, but now, it didn’t seem like it mattered at all. “Ready?”

She nodded, feeling a little swoon of adrenaline kick through her body when John left the room and returned with a knife. John looked at her expectantly. The physical acquiescence wasn’t enough.

“Yes,” Elliot said, and John’s eyes fluttered closed just for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed her—hard and open-mouthed, his fingers bruising where they gripped her shoulder.

“Fucking Christ,” Burke ground out, and John pulled away with a wicked grin.

“You and me,” he murmured against her lips, and she nodded.

John sat down. Over his shoulder she could see Burke, sitting on his knees, his face resolutely turned to the side. She turned her gaze away, too, because she didn’t want to see—didn’t want to see Burke sitting there, biting his tongue and trying not to look at her, look at her scars and the one John was going to give her and—

The sting of the first cut barely registered through the fog of her brain. It didn’t quite hit, and then her eyes flickered down and she saw the first stream of red, and it really hit, immediately slicing through the fog of adrenaline to hit sharper, harder, nastier.

Elliot exhaled a stuttering breath. It felt exactly the same as she remembered; it wasn’t so soft, on her chest like this, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation to her either. Something in her brain tripped at the pain, neurons firing rapidly; we know you, they said, as John meticulously carved the W into her skin, we know you, pain, we missed you, missed you missed you missed you.

“John,” she said, because there was a burst of panic going off in her brain like fireworks. The two parts of her—the one that self-preserved, and the one that craved this exact sting and bite—wrestled with the reality of her situation: that she was both doing and not doing the thing she had tried to deprogram out of herself.

“So good, hellcat,” John murmured, his eyes fixed on his work as he started on the R. He was fixated; he was somewhere far away from her, even as close as he was. “It’s going to look so good on you.”

And behind him, Jacob said, “C’mon, Burke, don’t you want to see what your little deputy asked for?”

“Fuck. You,” Burke bit out.

The sting, the bite; the push and pull. Elliot breathed her way through each excruciating moment, and they were excruciating, these moments, because John was utilizing every second that he had her here, like this.

And that was fine. She needed him to; both for her sake, and for Burke’s. 

Something sounded like thundering up ahead, distant but out of place. It gave her a little jolt of panic. If that was what she thought it was, then—

Elliot saw Jacob’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling, narrowing; she managed out, “Slow down,” just as John paused too, to draw his attention back to her. 

“Slower?” John asked, and the way he said it felt intimate, with his eyes fixed on her and his fingers red with her blood.

“Please,” Elliot breathed. Jacob looked at her for a moment, long and hard, but she didn’t meet his eyes; only looked at John, only waited patiently for him to begin.

After a moment, John said, his voice pitched low, “Anything you want.”

“I’ll be back,” Jacob said. He dropped his hand from Burke’s shoulder; John made a non-committal uh-huh sound, finishing off the unsteady cross of the T. She hissed, squirming in her seat at the pain, drawing Jacob’s attention for just a second long before he made his way out of the room.

The H followed next. As soon as he finished, John pulled back to admire his work; there was still a bit of bruising, but most of it was up on her shoulder, not her chest, which was now doused in crimson. Wiping his hands off with a towel, he beamed at her; all teeth and bright eyes.

“What a relief, don’t you think?” Joseph asked, his voice idle and distracted as he glanced up at the ceiling inquisitively. “To have it all out there.”

John flashed a smile at his brother, clearly pleased. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said to Elliot, coming to a stand. “We’ll have to let it heal for a while to see how it’s going to scar, and then we can go back in and—”

Before John could finish his sentence, Elliot heard the sound of car doors slamming outside, and Jacob’s voice, asking something in a demand, and then a volley of responses: it was hard to hear, a floor down, but she thought they were saying get down, get down.

“What is going on?” Joseph asked, his voice verging on something other than cool and calm, and the sound of it filled Elliot with a bright spark of joy: yes, she thought viciously, coming to a stand and feeling around for her shirt while her eyes stayed on the Seeds, yes, you fucking cockroach, squirm.

“I don’t know,” John said, stepping toward the door. “Stay here.”

He only took two more steps before the sound of Jacob shouting something above them, followed by a gunshot, and then a loud cacophony of footsteps above them.

“Jacob,” Faith breathed, her eyes wide and panicked. “Something’s happened, Father, we have to—”

“Stay,” John barked out, suddenly all business as he was hauling Burke up to his feet. “I think our friend the Marshal would like to take a look first, make sure nothing is dangerous.”

But Burke was grinning when his feet righted themselves on the ground. He sucked his teeth, looked directly at Joseph, and said, “Time’s up, fuckhead.”

Burke’s words send her stomach somersaulting. So he had gotten to the radio. He had, just in time, which meant he’d been caught just after, and now—

Now he was here, and so were all of the Seeds, too.

I fucking did it, she thought hazily, bracing herself on the chair. Holy shit. I fucking did it.

The sound of footsteps storming down the stairs made John’s eyes flicker to the doorway, and he let go of Burke, gripping the bloodied towel loosely in his hands.

Her heart was thundering in her chest. It was hard to think through the haze of pain, the stinging and burning of the cuts on her chest, but it was there, if she tried hard enough to look: hope.

But Joseph wasn’t looking at John. He was looking at Elliot.

“You,” the Father hissed, as Elliot pulled the shirt away from her chest, sticky-wet with blood. “You did this. I know you did, you fucking locust, I knew it the second you stepped foot in my chapel—brought us all here, rounded us up like lambs for the slaughter—”

“What do you mean?” John demanded. “Elliot has been with me since this whole—”

Things moved very quickly, then: through the fog of pain, Elliot heard one, two, three heavy thuds against the door before wood splintered and came crashing down, the instant array of green sights set on them—all of them, her included—and the sound of voices demanding their hands go up.

Elliot watched Joseph, hands at his sides.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Joseph ground out, his voice vicious, the rage splitting across his face almost as delicious as the fear. Faith was crying, and saying something through her tears, as John lifted his hands obediently.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of the SWAT members hauling Burke out of the room first. She looked at Joseph and arched a brow at him, lifting her hands obediently when the order was shouted again. 

“Oh, Father,” she sighed, her voice cloying and sweet and just between the two of them, “did God not tell you about this part?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things were going poorly.

That is to say, Jacob had a gunshot to the shoulder that was currently being patched while he was in handcuffs—“Can’t have you bleeding out on us, can we?” the medic said, a little too gleefully, until Jacob said something along the lines of I’m gonna rip your fucking face off—and Faith was crying, and Joseph was seething, furiously whispering to himself and held in place by one of the other U.S. Marshals.

Elliot was in cuffs, too, but Burke seemed to be talking furiously with the man who had cuffed her, occasionally interrupted when Elliot would try and draw his attention back to John.

This won’t do, he thought, as panic pounded through his body, as his heart hammered against his chest. All of his siblings, in handcuffs, and Elliot too; she was, too, but she looked—

Fine.

She looked fine, and he thought about what she’d said. You can’t have both, and then she’d immediately gone back on that. Of course she had. Of course, because she was wretched and wicked and clever, and she had never truly let go of her hatred for Joseph, but they were married. They were married, and the U.S. government was going to know about it before they stuck her on a stand to testify against any of his siblings.

“I need to speak to her,” John said to the officer holding him. “The woman, there. That’s my—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” the man replied sharply, “except shut your mouth and wait patiently for us to load you and the rest of your fucking brood into the van.”

“She’s my wife,” John bit out viciously. “And she’s in cuffs, I would like to speak with my wife—”

“What did you just say?”

It was Elliot’s voice, sharp and clear and splitting through the distance between them. In the chilly Autumn afternoon, John felt the spike of pure adrenaline race through him at her tone, at the way her head snapped to him and she shouldered her way past Burke. The officer had taken her cuffs off.

Burke said, “Rookie,” in warning, but it didn’t matter, John knew; they had never been able to ignore each other, in love or in war.

“I said,” John reiterated, “you’re my wife.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Elliot demanded.

“That night,” he began urgently, “that night that you were feeling unwell after your walk with Faith, and we talked about leaving—”

Elliot started, her voice hitching, “John, what did you do—”

“—we talked about other things, too,” he plunged on. “I didn’t tell you, Elliot. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be the right time. I was going to tell you today, after we were done—I was going to tell you that we talked about it and I asked you if you wanted to marry me, and you told me yes—”

“Stop,” she moaned, agonized. “Stop—fucking—talking—you didn’t, John, you fucking didn’t lie to me again about this thing that you know I hate—”

“And you signed the certificate. It’s back at the compound,” John finished, trying to lean around the officer. “We’re married. You and me, hellcat, just like we say, you and—”

He saw the slap coming before it hit, but it definitely took a few seconds for the pain to actually register in his brain. And oh, then it hit; Elliot had swung her hand with the same amount of force she might have if she were close-fist punching him, but her palm connected with this side of his face and sent a sharp, red-hot shot of pain blooming and blurring behind his eyes.

Dazed, John blinked and tried to focus his attention again as the officer jostled him out of her reach. He was vaguely aware of Burke moving toward them as Elliot gritted out between her teeth, “How fucking dare you.”

“Ell,” John said, and there was blood in his mouth, his lip split from the impact of her hand. “Listen to me—”

Burke, louder and closer: “Elliot.”

“No, you listen to me, you fucking rat!” Elliot’s voice was pitching higher in volume, and higher in frequency and hysteria. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I told you, I fucking told you what was going to happen if you lied to me again—you fucking—I’m going to fucking kill you—”

John saw Burke sling an arm around Elliot’s waist just as she lunged again, seething and furious, holding her tight against his chest as she clawed at his arms to get free. His mouth against her hair, he said, “Rookie, take a breath.”

“You take a fucking breath!”

He hauled her, all five feet and four inches of her, turning her away from John, like breaking her eyesight with him would save him the trouble of having to cuff her.

“Elliot,” John called, trying to lean past the officer, “I forgive you—”

“Fuck! You!”

“—marriage is hard work, but I know,” he continued, grinning when she finally pulled herself out of Burke’s grip, “that you’re just the woman for the job.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Every line in her expression was pulled tight with fury, and yes—John thought he should have told her sooner, maybe, but if she was going to find out, what better time to find out than in front of the very men who wanted to put her on the stand?

“Don’t you remember what you said last night? You need me,” he tried again, and he could tell the officer holding his shoulders was getting tired of him leaning around all the time. “I love you, Elliot, through sickness and in health, no matter how many—”

“Oh, John,” Elliot breathed out, like she almost couldn’t get a full lungful of air, she was so out of breath. She swayed on her feet exhaustedly, her mouth twisting around the next sentence that came out of her mouth: “I want a fucking divorce.”

The words plunged John straight into a panic, the kind that made it feel like there was a feeding frenzy going on under his skin. This was not how things were supposed to unfold. This was not how it was supposed to go. Elliot was going to be upset, sure—but he had taken great pains to make sure that she knew he was the only thing left for her, after it all. She was supposed to upset, and then see that it had been for her, it was always for her, for them. Everything he’d done, every step he’d taken, every—

She’s mine, he thought, his face still stinging, dull and hot, from her slap. Burke was saying something to her. That’s my fucking wife, whether she likes it or not.

No one was going to take her from him. Not Joseph or Jacob, not Cameron Burke, not even her. No one was going to put a serial murderer and the wife of a religious group’s lawyer on the stand. He’d make fucking sure of that.

“You think you’re gonna move on from this, El?” he demanded, managing to shoulder around the officer to make eye contact with her. His voice came out tight, sharp—slowly and purposefully careening, but he hated the strike of strange hysteria that wormed its way in there, too. “I watched you slaughter at least a hundred people in the name of ��justice”—you beat a man to death with a blunt object, and you liked it—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot ground out. She made to move at him, nails digging into her palms, but Burke hooked his arm around her waist and hauled her back again, much like before.

“You think you’re gonna move on and meet some nice little country boy who’s gonna love you even with all that fucking red in your ledger?” Oh, he was careening—all of the control slipping out from between his fingers, like sand. “No fucking way, baby, I’m it for you!”

“Rook,” Burke said, but there was no follow-up which made it worse; Burke said one word—one tiny little pet name—and Elliot’s attention immediately snapped to him.

John had never been made to feel like he was nothing; not like this.

“Look at me,” he snapped, and Elliot’s eyes turned to him; but he saw the fury split across her face, the absolute indignant rage. “You’re going to spend one day back in polite society and come unglued, Elliot Honeysett, and when you fucking do—you’ll be begging for me to take you back, and I guarantee you I fucking won’t.”

“That’s enough,” Burke said, but he was speaking to Elliot, looking at her.

“Maybe,” she hissed, pushing at Burke’s arm as blood seeped through the wound on her chest “you should have considered how I would react to you being a pathological liar before you fucking came inside me, you cunt.”

Her words sent a strange, uncomfortable sensation sprinting down his spine. She couldn’t be, John thought, alluding to—

But she had been surprised when he told her it was her birthday, like she hadn’t realized what day it was, and had said something like, normally by now I’m, and just hadn’t finished her thought. 

“Okay.” Burke pulled her back a few more steps, his voice strained. Pulled her away from him. “We’re taking a walk. You and me, Rookie.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” John called after her, panic rising in his voice. “Elliot? Tell me what you—”

“I mean I’m late, fuckhead,” Elliot spit at him over Burke’s shoulder.

The officer pulled him back towards the truck, dragging him by his arm as Burke took Elliot around the corner of the ranch house. His stomach was lurching nauseatingly, trying to piece it together. Had it been long enough? Of course, it had—it had been over a month, probably, maybe even more because he didn’t know how to keep track of time when he’d been drugged and kidnapped and dragged around.

If she is, he thought, frantic; if she does have my child, if she’s—

“John,” Joseph said, his voice eerily quiet as he was pushed into a sitting position across from his brother. He seemed to have recovered from his outburst earlier; there was an odd grimness about his expression. “We must remain focused.”

“She—” John blinked rapidly, trying to gather his fraying, desperate thoughts. “Joseph, she might—”

Joseph lifted a finger to his lips to signal silence. Jacob’s breathing was labored but controlled, and Faith’s gentle crying had been snuffed out. She’d only been the damsel for a few minutes before she tried to storm her way out of their grip.

“The task at hand,” Joseph cautioned him. “Then, we will figure out what to do for your son.”

My son. The words echoed hazily in his brain as the van doors slammed shut, eclipsing them.

“How do you know?” John demanded. “You know? You know that she’s—with my—”

“Of course,” his brother replied, still keeping his voice soft.

“God told me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Take a breath.”

“No.”

“Rookie.” Burke’s voice was hard. “Look at me and take breath.”

She couldn’t. Every inch of her body was screaming—desperate for a reprieve, but there was none to be had because she was still nursing her WRATH wound, because she was heaving out great, panicked breaths between ragged cries.

“I can’t,” Elliot moaned, her hands shaking, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

Burke snagged her hand and pressed it to his neck, just like before, but this time it didn’t do anything; this time, she just felt the spiral hit harder, the overwhelming sensation of touching and being touched sending her brain sprinting in panic.

She yanked her hand out of his grip and clutched her knees to her chest, ignoring the warm seep of blood even against the bandages the medic had patched her with and the sting of the pressure of her bones pressed up against the wound.

Burke stayed, and she noticed. He stayed, and he didn’t have to—he was done, free, could leave and go home—but he stayed sitting there with her, against the side of the Seed ranch, wherein many ways, things for her had began.

So, she cried; she sobbed into her jeans until she thought she was going to be dizzy from gasping for air, and Burke stayed, and waited until her hand fumbled for his blindly before he touched her again. His fingers gripped hers, firm and soothing.

“Is it true?” he asked, when she had stopped her crying, when she had breathed so much there was too much oxygen in her brain. His gaze flickered over her. “That you’re… With that fucker’s…”

“I don’t know,” Elliot replied, exhausted. “I’m—fuck, I’m late, and I didn’t realize until yesterday, because it’s been so fucking—”

Burke passed his free hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” and the words came out of her agonized; because she could hear the disappointment in his voice, or what she thought was disappointment. “I thought—I thought he—Burke, I—”

“I know, Rook,” Burke murmured, not unkindly. “Just focus on breathing. I know.”

A few more moments of silence passed between them, filled only with the sound of voices and out and the kick of an engine starting and pulling out from the ranch. After her breathing had evened out again, Burke said, “They’re going to be retrieving Kian’s body.”

Elliot stared at the ground, feeling numb. He didn’t have to say; she knew what that meant. Government officials were going to see what she’d done to Kian. They were going to see it, and see that she was legally married to one of them, and see that she was carrying the child of one of them, and see her history, and all of these things were going to add up.

The picture was not going to be a good one.

“I’ve gotta take you in, Rook,” Burke said quietly. “At the very least, to a therapist.”

She sniffed. I love you, John had said, after he’d lied. Lied, and lied, and lied, and used her, and lied, and if he loved her, he didn’t love her in any way that she understood.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah.”

“I know what you’ve been through, and you know I’ll vouch for you. I saw firsthand the kind of—the shit that was going on,” he insisted. “I just—want you to have a realistic picture of what it’s gonna look like, when we get back. They’re gonna autopsy Kian’s body, and—”

She took in a long, suffering breath. “I’m really tired,” Elliot said, her voice breaking a little. “Can we—are we going straight there, or?”

Burke paused, his expression softening, and shook his head. “We’ll hit a motel or two along the way.”

Elliot nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her face back into her knees. She stayed like that for a while; it was hard to tell how much time passed, but eventually, someone came around the corner and said something to Burke, and he tugged her to her feet and walked her to the car.

The sensation of Burke’s hand slipping out of hers sent another burst of panic flooding through her; her body was so tired, so very fucking tired of managing the adrenaline, but the more she tried to calm down the more tired she got.

“I want to stay with you,” she said, feeling hazy and tightening her hand around Burke’s. The Marshal looked at her for a long moment and then nodded.

“Alright, kid,” he murmured, reaching up and squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll stick together.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Time passed differently, after that. Elliot couldn’t have said how long it took them to get to the first motel; it couldn’t have been seconds, or minutes, or months for all that she knew. She was numb when they set her up in a motel room with two beds, she was numb when they checked her scar and redressed it.

“Fucking Christ,” the medic said under his breath when he saw the WRATH wound, still hot and trying its best to scab over. “You poor thing.”

It’s not me, Elliot thought miserably, opening her mouth; but no words would come. All she could think was, I asked for this, I’m not the poor thing, please don’t.

“Hey,” Burke barked out, his voice sharp as he took in Elliot’s crumpling expression. “Let’s get it cleaned and let her sleep, buddy.”

The medic nodded, thoroughly scolded, and worked quickly after that. When he’d finished and she had swallowed two Tylenol dutifully, Burke watched her climb under the covers of the bed and said, “I’ve gotta make a call. You okay in here?”

She swallowed thickly. He was looking at her like he was wary of her. The same way Whitehorse had looked at her.

“Yeah,” Elliot murmured. “I’m fine.”

He gave her a tight, tired smile and then stepped out of the motel room, closing the door behind him. Silence lingered there for a little while; Elliot tried to close her eyes and sleep, her fingers brushing through Boomer’s fur as he dozed, but the low, murmuring sound of Burke talking just outside stirred her anxiety, and each time she closed her eyes she just saw John’s face.

John, holding her face and kissing her, You and me. John, burying his face into her neck, I love you.

John, their noses brushing, We can have a place to belong, Elliot.

John, vicious and unyielding, I’m it for you.

She lurched out of the bed, pushing her way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her just in time to lean over the toilet and throw up whatever was left in her stomach—which wasn’t much, if the amount of dry-heaving were any indication. Bile burned at the back of her throat, and she thought if she didn’t get a breath of air she was going to fucking die.

Elliot pushed the window open and tried to steady her breathing. Rinsing her mouth out in the sink, she shut the water off and paused, looking at herself in the mirror.

The person that looked back at her was unfamiliar. A stranger. She blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself, but each time she did, she felt less and less familiar with the gaunt, sharp-faced, dark-eyed stranger gazing back at her from the mirror. Some bruises along her neck and shoulders still remained.

Who are you? She thought, tiredly. The one that killed all of those peggies? The one that killed Kian? Why don’t I recognize you?

“... understand that, sir, it’s just—if you saw what was going on...”

Burke’s voice drifted in through the window. He must have been pacing, because the volume of his words drifted and moved, as though he were walking around the corner and then back again.

His footsteps paused. “No, I have not read the autopsy report yet. I didn’t think it pertinent at this time, considering we only just—”

She heard Burke’s words cut abruptly, the sound of his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale, and then he said, “Jesus Christ. No, I didn’t know.”

Oh, she thought hazily, oh, he knows. He knows what I did.

Her body moved automatically. Something inside of her kicked—we’re not done yet, it said, ferocious and furious, sinking its teeth into her and operating her body outside of her own executive function. We’re not fucking done yet.

Elliot pulled her sweater and her shoes on. The late autumn chill drifting through the open window made her mind feel sharp, and clear, and she thought, somthing has to be done, and I’ll fucking do it.

She stuffed a couple of things that felt essential into a bag—painkillers, bottles of water from the fridge, Burke’s gun he’d left on the nightstand closest to the door—and then waited until she heard his footsteps pacing around the corner again before she ducked out of the window.

When she looked back, Boomer had already leapt through the window after her. His eyes were on her, bright, ready.

And then she ran.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She’s twenty-six, and she’s in a bar.

Or that’s how it would go, anyway, if she was asleep. If she were dreaming, or remembering. But she wasn’t. Elliot was twenty-six, and she was in a bar, and she wasn’t waiting for her best friend to come back with a different drink, and she wasn’t making eyes at a handsome blue-eyed stranger from across the bar. He wouldn’t come over and call her beautiful, and he wouldn’t make her want to be kissed by someone whose face looked a little sharp, and she wouldn’t one day think that maybe she was in love with him.

I’m just a girl, she thought tiredly, staring at the water glass on the counter in front of her. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

But it was. It was her life. Here she was, sitting in a seedy bar halfway to Georgia, with a U.S. Marshal’s gun she’d lifted sitting in her bag. She’d hitch-hiked a ride back into Fall’s End, grabbed what remained of her things—her ID, what little cash she still had on her, a debit card she was too paranoid to use, dog food—and then she’d taken the jeep parked out behind the Keller’s old place and drove.

And drove. And drove. And drove.

Now, she was twenty-six, sitting in a bar, and there is no Joey coming to rescue her, and there is no John to be a monster that she needed rescuing from.

I’m just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

She left the cash for her water on the bar top, hauling herself out of the stool and back out into the parking lot. It was late; the sky was speckled with stars; if she thought hard enough, if she really thought about, Elliot thought maybe, somewhere inside of her, she was going to be okay.

As she climbed into the driver’s seat of the jeep, Elliot turned the key into the ignition and reached into a grocery store bag on the passenger seat, fumbling around for the cigarettes she’d purchased. Her fingers hit hard plastic and she glanced over.

The two little tiny lines on the pregnancy test stared back at her. Her stomach lurched, nausea welling up inside of her, and she tossed the hard plastic back into the bag and left the cigarettes untouched. Boomer, dozing in the back seat, pricked his ears forward and looked at her inquisitively.

She was just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. But it was—and there was only one place left to go from here.

Home.

[magicofthepen]

For the character thingy, romana and leela?? ❤

ROMANA - I’m going to answer for Romana I, since I already did Romana II!

favorite thing about them: so I fell in love with Romana I instantly when I watched The Ribos Operation. I was like “wait no one told me that Romana’s basically a recent graduate who always thrived in school but has now suddenly been thrust into the Real World and is a bit of a mess” and oh my god why is she so relatable, also I love that about her. I love that she doesn’t quite know what she’s doing, and her academic brilliance doesn’t necessarily help in the situations she’s finding herself in, but she keeps trying and learning, so by the end of season 16 she’s much more confident and capable on her own than she was when she started. I just absolutely adore the premise of her character and how she develops during the key to time quest. also her banter skills are so excellent. (….this wasn’t one thing whoops. 😄)

least favorite thing about them: I feel like it’s something about how she’s portrayed in the Gallifrey audios, but I can’t quite articulate what? but I feel like somehow, some of the things I really liked about her on TV (her witty fun banter, her determination even when she’s out of her depth) aren’t represented as much when we get glimpses of Actual Romana I (not Pandora or an alternate universe version). idk if this is even fully true, it’s just….she doesn’t quite have the same vibe as the character I remember from the TV show (but this is also tricky because the Lies scene, the Matrix projection in Lies (which *isn’t* really her technically) and the remains of her consciousness in the body that Pandora’s using are the only times we get Actual Romana I - which isn’t that much time to express all the nuances of her character.)

(continuing to skip the favorite line question because it’s too hard)

brOTP: her and the Doctor!! (like I said in the Romana II ask, I used to ship them more, but lately I’ve been more into a platonic interpretation.) I just as instantly fell for their dynamic in the Ribos Operation - two people with very different personalities who don’t get along but are forced to work together and gradually become friends?? this is exactly the kind of relationship arc that I adore. Their banter and snark is So Good (I was so entertained by their interactions in Ribos Operation that my brain refused to pay attention to anything but their scenes, and I ended up having issues following the plot later oops). And I love their growing respect and care for each other - how they go from being mutually dismissive of each other to valuing each other and being a solid Team and just really genuinely liking each other! their friendship is just Very Good (…..and now I really want to rewatch season 16….I’ve only seen it like one and a half times but I loved it very much….)

OTP: I don’t think I have any ships with Romana I that I would consider an ‘otp’? (the closest would be her and the Doctor since I have sometimes shipped them and I adore their relationship in general)

nOTP: Brax/Romana again….and tbh with Romana I it’s more of an actual nOTP (rather than ‘kinda nOTP, kinda ‘it’s complicated’’) because this is the time frame when she’s actually his student and so my discomfort with student/teacher relationships really rears its head (although there’s still one fic out there that I just think is so well-written.....but it does show the relationship as very unhealthy). 

random headcanon: .....so sorry to continue Sartia posting, but oops the first thing that popped into my head is my new maybe-unrealistic headcanon that Sartia was Romana’s first kiss. in a teenage “I’m curious and want to try this thing and you’re the only person I hang out with, but it doesn’t mean anything....or does it??” way. (.....this is so self-indulgent in such a terrible way rip.)

unpopular opinion: Armageddon Factor is my favorite Key to Time story! (I gather this is an unpopular opinion in Doctor Who Fandom At Large, it doesn’t seem to be liked as much as some of the earlier stories in the season.) technically I’ve only seen it once and it was a couple years ago, but I remember loving it as a Romana story, there were a lot of really interesting character bits for her!

song i associate with them: hmm I don’t really have one? my Romana playlist is specifically for Romana II in Big Finish so....yeah.

favorite picture of them: anything with her Ribos Operation outfit (with the full cloak), it’s iconic and beautiful! on a similar note, I love this Romana I art by @volucris-liga, it’s the first Romana fanart I ever reblogged and it’s so pretty!

more under the cut!

LEELA

favorite thing about them: her resilience and her kindness. Leela goes through so much grief and pain, she has her world upended again and again, she never really finds a place where she belongs. and yet she still keeps choosing to love, choosing to keep fighting for what she believes in, choosing to rebuild again and again. and sometimes it’s really hard and she doesn’t want to go on….but she does, and she finds moments of happiness again. and that strength is really powerful. and no matter how cruel the universe (and other people) are to her, she is still relentlessly kind - she listens, she protects, she wants to help, she cares. 

least favorite thing about them: I mean, the “savage” stereotype that her character references is a racist/anti-indigenous trope (especially the whole dynamic of the Doctor trying to “civilize” her ugh). and I hate that characters keep calling her “savage” (even when they’re the Bad Guys, it’s still bringing up this trope again and again, and it’s even worse when it’s the Good Guys). why are they still doing this.

brOTP: see all characters listed under otp, every relationship that I ship is also an incredibly important friendship in Leela’s life and I love all of them <33 as far as relationships that I see as entirely non-romantic….I really love the version of Leela and Ace’s relationship that exists in my head (and in fandom) - they didn’t get to interact enough in the audios, but I absolutely think they were really close, because of their shared experiences and the ways their personalities mesh. (I feel like I should also say the Doctor here, but tbh I don’t remember her TV stories that well, so I don’t really have a solid memory of what their relationship was like.) and of course, Leela’s parental relationship with Rayo is very important to me!

OTP: once again, ot3 my beloved <33 and Leela/Romana first and foremost (I already rambled about them here, so I’m just going to second everything I said earlier). 

and I also ship Leela/Narvin, although I’m not quite as invested in that pairing? (due to a combination of ‘Romana is my favorite character and so I’m just more interested in her relationships with other characters,’ ‘I joined the fandom when things were pretty much all Leela/Narvin all the time (I say with great respect and affection for the artists and writers putting out amazing content for that ship) so I was motivated to write fic primarily for R/L and N/R to balance out the ot3 content,’ ‘apparently I have a contrary streak with Gallifrey and the more the writers push a romantic interpretation of a relationship, the less interested I am in actually shipping it,’ and ‘I’m not really into Leela/Narvin as a pairing on its own - although I do love a lot of fic that portrays them that way bc it’s just very well-written.’) But just. how they form a grudging alliance for Romana’s sake and then develop genuine respect for each other and then build this really solid foundation of teamwork and fondness and care and really relax and feel comfortable around each other….the way they become ride-or-die for each other and just trust and love each other so much….it’s Very Good!! (And I did love writing scenes with the two of them in Call It Home - I might not focus on them, but I do genuinely love their relationship.) 

And of course Leela/Veega <33….I debated if they even interacted enough in the actual audios for me to consider it an otp, but I love the idea of their relationship and the story of them in my head so much?? going to link to this post because it really captures my feelings about them - they’ve both been through so much grief and pain by the time they meet, they’ve both lost people they love before, so the idea of them choosing to love each other and build something together against the odds is just. very powerful. plus I have a whole playlist for the family they’ve built together, which is a strong indication that I really love this ship. 😊

nOTP: Leela/Andred. last time I answered an ask meme about Leela, I had this complicated response about how I hated Leela/Andred when I watched Invasion of Time (bc it’s so abrupt and arbitrary), and then Louise Jameson’s voice acting Convinced Me To Care because oh she really did love him....alas i am a Leela/Andred detractor at heart, and I have been nudged back to my default state by re-listening….I simply hate how he treats Leela in Gallifrey.

random headcanon: I really like the idea of Leela being more politically involved in her own right after they all return from the Axis. She’s just spent a lot of time leading a group of people who don’t have a voice in the government, fighting for their rights against the established injustices of Gallifreyan society. I don’t think she’d easily slip back into only being Romana’s bodyguard after experiencing more political autonomy on the other Gallifrey. What exactly this looks like in practice I’m not sure about - in my one fic ‘verse, I wrote about her being more directly involved with the Academy as a political liaison and guest tutor, and also advocating to Romana for policies that would benefit those who live outside the city on their home Gallifrey. but there’s probably a lot of options to explore here!

unpopular opinion: hmm I don’t think this is necessarily unpopular but idk and I want to talk about it: even though Leela identifies so strongly as a warrior, a “happy ending” for her would, I think, need to involve getting away from fighting. too often she throws herself into a fight to try to avoid thinking about how much she’s hurting, and it doesn’t work, it doesn’t stop the pain. and in the Time War, she’s tied her identity so strongly to war (it’s inevitable, inescapable, and she will Fight and Defend because that’s all she has left). there’s a difference between “I am a warrior” and “all I am is a warrior,” and Leela’s slid too far into the second one, and she needs to untangle her own identity from war to heal. 

song i associate with them: Freedom by Karmina (it’s a song about going on defiantly in the face of heartbreak -  “Tearing my room apart, I’m starting over” / “Take my pride I can still survive I’ve got my freedom” / “Hunt me down you’ll never find me now that I’ve got my freedom”)

favorite picture of them: the first one that came to mind is this gorgeous art by @laurelhach (which I didn’t realize was based on a picture until I stumbled across the original picture and was like oh my god!! it looks exactly like the art!!)

[best-enemies]

For the fandom ask meme thing can I request the whole damn alphabet or is that not very cash money of me? I’m nosy lmao I wanna know all of them!

AHDKAJSDKJAHSKDA JACK YOU’RE THE BEST

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

I’ve had my current OTP for like almost 8 years and it’s, obviously, Thoschei (Doctor/Master). My other current obsession is the Gallifrey OT4 hehehe

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

It’s funny because I didn’t ship Hannigram at first... I’d thought the idea of a cannibal having a relationship was terrifying because what if they had sex and Hannibal got hungry in the middle of the act? Lmaoooo 

But yeah they’re my endgame now. I watched the show when it first aired and I was about 14/15 years old so now you see why I thought that. Although I’m still afraid I’m gonna be reading a fic and Hannibal will suddendly bite Will’s dick off or smth AKJHSAKJSAHSASKAJ

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will (be nice)

Uhhh Doctor/Clara. Mainly because I don’t like to ship the Doctor with companions (there may be one or two exceptions but I don’t ship them enough to actually say I ship them lol) and I don’t know I just never vibed with it

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t (again: be nice)

Doctor/River. I mean, I did like it for a while years ago but now it’s just... eh. I think she has a waaay better chemistry with the 12th Doctor, but still don’t ship it. I might give it a try once I listen to the River audios but so far meh. I’m not much of a multishipper anyway.

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what

God. I’ve written a couple of Academy Era (focused on the Deca) crack fanfics and I still have to translate them to English. They’re pure garbage but I love them. I have a lot of fun writing crack fics because they’re easier and I can ignore whatever piece of canon I want just for the laughs

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom

Guess it’s Doctor Who, been here (in and out of the fandom) for over 8/9 years

G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it

Uhhhh I think it was Han Solo and Leia, since I was a kid really. I wanted to marry both of them lol

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., tv shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)

I had to google what a source text is and still don’t know

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

I don’t think so, but Twitter definitively has. I remember a couple years ago I was curious to see what voltron was about and watched a few episodes, it was ok, fun and cute but the fandom was so annoying I stopped watching it for good and don’t care about it enough to pick it up again

J - Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr

I had definitively forgotten about supernatural until I saw it all over my dashboard in the year of our lord 2020 lmao like in my wholock days I tried to watch the show because everyone on my dash (is it still called dashboard?) was talking about it and I watched about 8 episodes before dropping it. But seeing it again on the dash was actually a happy surprise because the memes are too funny hahaha

K -Say something nice about someone in any of your fandoms

I’m extremely shy irl and on the internet as well but I wanna say that  @janeturenne is one of the best authors ever and her fanfics are a blessing in my life; also @thebraxiatelcollection who brings awesome content to my dash and is also one of the best authors. And of course, you, Jack, also one of the best authors god I’m so BLESSED

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

Uhhh I guess I’m neutral about the current companions. They’re not my favorites but I don’t really dislike them - they had a lot of potential and chibs came up with some good storylines but did not develop them well in my opinion. I think Graham is a fun grandpa whom I’m going to miss when he leaves; Ryan is cool and could’ve done a lot more if the writers had kept a few things, it’d be awesome if he vlogged all of their adventures. He’s like the one I was curious to see more but sadly didn’t feel a connection; and Yaz, I hope she’ll keep growing and that her friendship with the Doctor will finally be developed to a level we can connect to her.

It sounds weird because with the fam it’s always ‘what I wish could have been’ because I never felt really connected to them :(

M - Say something genuinely nice about a ship that you don’t ship (or its shippers, or anything related to you)

Ok... I don’t really ship Rey/Finn but I think it’s one of the sweetest ships ever, and if they ended up together I’d be happy. They love each other and are there for each other always so, yeah :D

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

I don’t know if I got the question right but it’s three things I wish I saw more in my main fandom? Well, if it’s that, then, 3 things about the Doctor Who fandom: 1) people having more civilized or light-hearted discussions about things. Like, I genuinely disliked an 8th doctor audio I listened once that my friends loved, and they made fun of me and we joked about it. Also once we were in a live twitch video playing among us and discussing doctor who, and then we got into a ship “discourse” as a joke and nobody really cared and just laughed because everyone knew it’s fictional shit so why get mad over it? 2) Doctor Who has a titanic amount of content, it’s all canon but at the same time it’s not, so who cares? If you want to listen to Big Finish audios and if you can afford it, then lisiten; if you can’t, it’s okay, no one has the right to tell you you’re less of a fan. Just tell them to fuck off; 3) The best way to keep fandom alive is by creating content. Here in my local fandom we have several podcasts dedicated to all areas of the whoniverse (the show, the expanded universe, the audios, etc), those old fandom websites who do serious work to bring news to the fans, people who make subtitles for the classic series (we don’t have it available here so they do their best to make it accessible to other fans), accounts dedicated to promoting dr who fans who create content, and we even have people making their own audiodramas with dw characters and writing book-lenght fanfiction to help explain the show to people who’ve never watched it, and a great variety of things. I’ve seen a few of these things in the international fandom, mostly by older fans, so I wish younger fans about my age who have the means to make this kind of stuff would make it too. Maybe there’d be less twitter drama out there lol

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

“the killing moon” by echo & the bunnymen reminds me of thoschei. yep it was totally random

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

The fact that we don’t have a pride and prejudice AU for brax/romana yet is driving me insane

Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why

I’ve mentioned it before but doctor/river, don’t really remember why idk I just don’t vibe with it anymore. But also because thoschei has so many different pairings in 1 ship that I don’t really feel the need to ship them with anyone else lol

R - A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships

GOD I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT’S SO SPECIFIC ok fellow academy era stans gather around if you have read Divided Loyalties there’s a scene where it SHOWS that Magnus had a crush on Ushas. And NO ONE HAS EVER TALKED ABOUT THEM and the power couple they would’ve made. I write them into all my fanfics in hopes of making other people ship them but I’ve had no success so far

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

The Master is a big fan of musicals and in the 77 years he spent on earth he watched every single one ever. I’m gonna be bold and say that when he was young, still Koschei, he was an artist, and thought about dropping everything to become an actor on Gallifrey. Time Lords do appreciate art, and have their own plays, but it’s just the same old and boring ones the young people don’t care about. The Master then created a shocking performance that was way ahead of its time and the older Time Lords were so appalled they banned him from writing and presenting plays and that’s his villain origin story

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

1) The Doctor and the Master married on Gallifrey and the entire show is just them having the most litigious divorce in the universe (still isn’t final because the Master has killed all the judges); 2) Ushas/The Rani is ace; 3) The Deca was a 10 people polyamorous relationship; 4) Romana and Livia were girlfriends at the Academy and they hate each other now because the break up was baad; 5) Romana writes fanfiction; 6) Romana/Leela had a thing in Davidia I KNOW it; 7) Leela pegs Narvin; 8) Brax has a life-size painting of Romana at his collection or a statue or smth; 9) Brax’s dream in Reborn is actually REAL and he’s married to Romana, Leela and Narvin all at the same time

U - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms

I don’t even think I’m in 5 fandoms but

Doctor Who: The Master, The Doctor, Romana, Leela, Sarah Jane, Bill (this was the hardest thing ever)

The X-Files: Mulder, Scully, Monica, and can I add The Lone Gunmen too?

Star Wars: Leia, Obi-Wan, Finn, Poe Dameron and honorable mention to Din Djarin and Grogu

Hannibal: Hannibal, Will, Bev, Alana, Chiyoh

V - 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms

That’s hard

Doctor Who: thoschei ofc, gallifrey ot4.......... uuhh as you can see i don’t ship many pairings in the show

The X-Files: Mulder and Scully. And whatever Scully and Monica had going on because they definitively flirted

Star Wars: Poe/Finn, Han/Leia, whatever Han/Lando had going on too

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships

WHATVASHAJSKAJSA ok this is a little embarassing but I don’t have a lot of kinks for many ships... I guess I have some for thoschei like, choking, whipping, blindfolds/gagging, bondage, begging, biting, sem-public, phone sex, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink, etc. Alright alright I know it’s a lot but in my defense they've shown half of these on the show

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

The Master, Romana, Leela, Brax, Narvin, Bill Potts, Martha Jones, Sarah Jane, Donna Noble, Lucie Miller. No particular order for most of them but the Master is my precious baby and I will die for this mf

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)

Not many, usually the people I follow are in the same fandoms as I am but I’ve seen some mutuals reblog some Hadestown stuff which is a play that I’ve never seen but definitively would because the protagonists look hot 

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go (prompts optional but encouraged)

I DON’T KNOW WHAT DOES IT MEAN

it took me three hours to do this but it was fun!! thank you bb <3

[margridarnauds]

ronan & olympe for the ship opinions? (also please let your previous anon know that they're the funniest person in the world and i love them)

So…interesting thing, there. And something I’ve been increasingly thinking about as I think back on my last few years of fandom, my evolving feelings towards M/F shipping, and how fandom, as a whole, treats M/F ships. I’m going to apologize in advance for the length since I KNOW you didn’t sign on for 1.5k words of reminiscence. 

Also: BEAGLE ANON, YOU’RE THE FUNNIEST PERSON IN THE WORLD. 

When I first started out with 1789, in about 2015 or so, I was actually pro-Ronan/Olympe. Like, I wanted NOTHING more than fix-it fics where they retired to the country and had babies. I listened to La Guerre Pour se Plaire for HOURS, getting caught in the gothic atmosphere and the passionate, conflicted lyrics. But, at the time, the overall fandom environment was…well. Not conducive to it. And I was young, and I wasn’t strong in my opinions yet, so I stood back and kept it to myself. I think that might be part of why I ended up backing away from 1789 when I did. Yeah, I liked it, but I didn’t have a strong sense of community, and most of the attention, at that time, was in the Mozart, L’Opera fandom, and I wasn’t a major picture there. I attended streams, yeah, but I wasn’t a CONTENT creator, and it was easy for me to fade into the background, I think. Maybe because I was too afraid to be a content creator, back then, because that would involve possibly expressing my own opinions. I accepted that Ronan/Olympe was No bad, terrible, awful based on that desire to fit in, because it was so much EASIER. Just like I accepted that French 1789 was a disaster, that MOR was much better, and that, really, it wasn’t worth the effort. Just an inferior musical. (The problem, of course, was that I NEVER liked MOR as well as I liked 1789. Maybe it’s better put together, but I don’t ENJOY it as much, and imo it drags quite a bit at a few places, a problem shared by its German counterpart.) 

I came back to 1789 around…2017, with the European Musicals Streaming event, with the Takarazuka one totally stealing my heart, specifically Lazare/Ronan. Suddenly, I was IN, and I was creating content. Yeah, most of the French musicals fandom didn’t give a flying fuck that I was creating content, with most of my support coming from my friends and Takarazuka fans, but I was CREATING CONTENT, for the first time since I joined fandom. I was finally starting to figure out my way in fandom, finally starting to get noticed. In 2018……..for reasons I won’t give out, at least publicly, there was a massive rift in the old French musicals fandom, a lot of bridges got burned, and, naturally, I was far enough from the fire. But this DID give me a shot at carving out my own 1789 experience, for once, without them hanging over my shoulder. I do think that the reason why the 1789 fandom’s as strong as it is now is because of that rift, because it left a sort of power vacuum. Suddenly, there was a space for other French musicals, and we didn’t have to worry about the constant comparison to MOR. BUT. Keep in mind. 2-3 years ago, the overwhelming consensus on Ronan was pure, unadulterated hatred. There were a few Ronan content creators in an already small pool, but the general consensus was that Lazare was better in every way and Ronan was a terrible protagonist.  (I know fully well that some old members of the French musicals fandom, to this day, won’t engage with Ronan content. At all. And I can say this as openly as I do because I KNOW they don’t follow me.) As a Peyronan shipper, I was in an awkward place, especially as time went on and I realized that I actually did like the little shit. One half of my OTP was absolutely beloved, one half was hated, and, while there was definitely some content on the Tumblr side of things (I definitely did NOT single-handedly invent the ship out of thin air, I don’t take credit for it, and I’m grateful to everyone who kind of. Took me in), the fan fiction side of things still tended to lean Ronan/Olympe. If, today, it seems like the fandom consensus is Ronan/Lazare, that’s because I fought tooth and nail to get my own place in the fandom. 

I…suppose you could say that I justified my place in the fandom by tossing Ronan/Olympe under the bus. It was easier, that way. It meant that I could forge alliances with anyone who wanted Solène/Olympe instead, though I was still on dangerous ground since I still wanted precious Lazare with Ronan, and, of course, the show would be better without Ronan. (You’ll note that the VERY FIRST fic I ever published on AO3 was Solène/Olympe. Why? Because I knew it would be a safe option to test the waters. That. And I really did just write it the night before my GRE.) But, at least I wasn’t a Ronan/Olympe shipper, right? I was safely gay. (Biphobia, thy name is fandom.) When I talked about Ronan, I talked about him as gay, I talked shit about Ronan/Olympe whenever I had the chance. All properly tagged, of course, in the proper channels. I’ve never been the sort to actively hurt someone who DID ship it, I just took pains to not associate myself with the Icky Het Ship. When I talked about Ronan, I talked about him as GAY, VERY GAY, not a hint of bisexuality to him. Because if he was bi, that might mean that Ronan/Olympe had a leg to stand on, you see? You’ll note that, to this day, I almost never acknowledge Ronan/Olympe as a thing that HAPPENED in any given fic continuities, because it was so much easier if he simply fell into Lazare’s arms instead. Wiping that little spot clean. And. Well. Here I am. About 5 years after I first got into 1789. And, looking back, I wonder if it was REALLY that bad, or if I just nodded my head because it was easy at the time, since it’s only been in the last year that I really, really began to develop my own spine. (Honestly, props to Marie Antoinette the Musical and, specifically, Morléans as a ship for that one.) For the most part, I’m proud of how far the fandom’s come in the last five years, and I’m proud of the work that I, individually, have done to help get it there, whether it was streams, gifs, or fanfics. But sometimes, I do worry that anyone coming in who ships Ronan/Olympe, like I used to…might feel out of place, and I never want to treat them like I was treated back in the day. 

Do I ship it? Not really. That ship’s sailed for me (I didn’t mean to make that a pun but here we are). I’m fairly firmly Lazare/Ronan and Solène/Olympe (though I’m not as firmly pro-the latter as the former, simply because I REALLY don’t have as much material to go off of there.) Not just because of the old pressure, but just because…looking at it in, say, the French cast…there’s really no chemistry there. At all. The Takarazuka Olympe looks mildly terrified to be in Ronan’s presence at any given moment. I DO actually kind of like it in the Toho production, especially with Teppei Koike and Sayaka Kanda, since the two of them fit together SO naturally and their voices are like two pieces of the same puzzle, but I’m not sure it’s something I’d particularly want to create content for. In fact, when I tried to write Ronan/Lazare/Olympe as an OT3, my HARDEST dynamic to write and justify was Ronan/Olympe. I do think that “La Guerre Pour se Plaire” is a stunning song, musically, it’s probably one of my favorite French musical songs. I do kind of tend to see Ronan as gay, simply because Takarazuka Ronan in particular is………..forceful, to the point that I can see him forcing himself to believe he’s in love with Olympe in order to distract himself from Lazare. I feel like the French cast, while arguably realistic in it showing Ronan/Olympe’s relationship having problems, also shows a couple that, really, beyond the physical attraction, couldn’t have made it work had both of them survived. And I feel like fandom, back in the day, was far too willing to take Olympe’s side over Ronan’s in that dispute, ignoring how Olympe’s own relationship to her side of the conflict is…kind of toxic to her. And while Ronan went about it in an ass-backward way (“I will kill your friends and family! To remind you of my love!”)……..he did make some Points. And Toho Ronan/Olympe, particularly Teppei/Sayaka, are more two kids in love who just want to give it a shot. (Kato Kazuki/Nene Yumesaki were more….forceful, manly hero/prim and proper governess with a spine of steel. Which is OKAY, but not really personally as interesting to me.) I do give the Toho credit for really, really making me see that, okay, it might not be for me, but it CAN work on stage. Mostly. (I still hate that forced kiss.) 

 I will say that there are times where I find myself writing Lazare rather similarly to Olympe in terms of him going through the same feelings of guilt, shame, and duty, and I’m just like “....hm. What have I really changed? Did I just substitute Lazare’s face for Olympe because it was easier? Or copied the existing dynamic and pasted a dude’s face over Olympe’s?” (I do think that there are definitely DIFFERENCES to Olympe VS Lazare, it’s just...eerie in those individual moments.) I do think, at the end of the day, the story of forbidden love during the French Revolution....we’ve HAD it before, in the La Revolution Française musical, and in my opinion it does work best as a queer narrative. And, unfortunately, Ronan/Olympe just...isn’t developed particularly well enough on stage to justify it as an EPIC ROMANCE. 

Overall, I think that I’m fairly settled in my ways at this point, but I also don’t hate it to the extent that I once did. It’ll never be my favorite, I can’t really see them getting married and having kids, and, frankly, the relationship just isn’t as interesting to me as the alternatives since we’ve SEEN it played out on screen, and I can’t really see myself making content for it or really engaging with it in any meaningful way outside of reblogging gifsets/reading fics, but like. I don’t HATE it anymore. I’m neutral to its existence. And, when it comes down to it, I have read fic/engaged in content for it, because, at this point, it’s STILL part of my favorite musical. If I could have done things differently….maybe I would have stayed with it more, for longer. Maybe I’d have written that happy country babyfic (you know. In 18th century France. Where raising babies in the country was so painless). Maybe I’d have gone over to Peyronan earlier and not looked back. Maybe I would have written Ronan more consciously as a bisexual man instead of a gay man. Who knows? Maybe I’m just a tired bitch these days and so am hyper-dissecting everything. But I definitely never want anyone coming into the fandom to think there isn’t a place for them just because they ship Ronan/Olympe. 

[brokengem]

Sweet Memory - Leon/Piers

Fandom: Pokemon Sword/Shield Pairing: Leon/Piers Characters: Leon, Piers, Raihan(appears for like a second) others only mentioned. Notes: And here's my first attempt to dip into this fandom. Not my best work but it was bothering me enough to attempt to write it down. So here we are.While I love Raihan/Piers, Raihan/Leon and of course Raihan/Piers/Leon. I've been on such a need for just Leon/Piers that's not OT3 related and there's so little of it out there T^T.What's a girl to do? Write it her damn self! I have needs okay. So have some damn fluff! Summary:  Late to Piers' concert, Leon loses himself in a happy memory. Also on AO3: Over Here go say hi.

It was always a drastic change in scenery whenever he comes to Spikemuth. The cities dark and grimy design a great contrast to the brightness of just about everywhere else.

Though Leon never complains. 

He likes his visits to the dark city. Lively, despite its grim appearance. Even in the dead of the night, especially on nights much like tonight when Piers has organized a concert. 

All of Spikemuth is out and about, eager to see their leader belt out his latest musings. Only a few trainers linger in the streets,  greeting him with smiles and teasing words for being late while clapping the former champion on the back as he made his way down to Piers’ performance stage. 

He hoped Piers wouldn’t mind his late arrival, but matters at the Battle Tower had needed his immediate attention.

What was he supposed to tell them? Sorry, mate, boyfriends throwing a concert. I can’t deal with you right now.

Leon shook his head with a chuckle, finally arriving at the city's end. The lights focused on center stage, Piers’ hands wrapped around his mic as he sang his heart out, eyes closed.

Arceus. He was beautiful.

Leon smiles as he found a spot in the back of the crowd, remembering the first time he’d heard that voice,  years ago when they’d taken part in their own challenges.  

                                                                -x-

Leon silently cursed Raihan for abandoning him. The dragon-type trainer left him alone in favor of  flirting with Nessa. After all, he knew how easily distracted Leon could become. How easy it was to get lost in a massive crowd, especially one as big as Rose Tower. 

He should have asked Raihan the location of their locker room before letting him run off. But he shrugged it off and continued on, letting his friend have his fun. If anything he’d ask one of the officials to help him. 

Rose Tower had always been an exciting place to visit, moreso now that he was at the end of his challenge tour and was going to show all of Galar what a true champion looked like. He couldn’t wait.

Leon continued to wonder, waving excitedly to Mr. Kabu and Mrs. Melody and her son Gordie as he passed. 

A voice made him pause, following it further down a hallway as his curiosity peaked. The locker room door was just barely open, a crack just large enough to peek in without disturbing who ever was singing.

Without a second thought, Leon did just that. Inside on one of the benches sat a thin teen with short two-toned hair, a bright smile on his lips as he sang to the little girl holding his hands. She bounced happily in front of him, her little dark pigtails bouncing as she swung their hands back and forth to his words. 

“Oi, Lee who ya spyin’ on?” 

Raihan’s hand slapped harshly against his back, causing him to tumble forward. The door flew open under his weight and Leon lost all sense of balance. No way of catching himself, he crashed face first to the ground with a painful groan.

Leon laid there, embarrassed and afraid as Raihan’s laughter seemed to drown him. 

“Ya a’right, mate?”

The violet-haired teen lifted himself just enough to finally look up. Surprised when he came within a breath or two away from a tired looking pale face. The singer. Seeing him up close, Leon remembered him to be the wickedly good dark-type trainer from Spikemuth. 

Pushing himself up to his feet, Leon purposely knocked into the still laughing Raihan. 

“Fine. I’m fine,” tugging down at the brim of his snapback.

“Ya sure ‘bout that?” The other boy asked, leaning up slightly to stare at him. A pale hand reaching out to…

                                                                   -x- 

Leon yelps, torn from his thoughts, rubbing at the sore spot on his forehead. He  focuses on the long black and white head in front of him. A playful smirk playing on Piers’ lips as he meets Leon’s eyes, drawing his hand back to his side. 

“Ya a’right, mate?” he echoes the memory Leon had been lost in. 

“Fine. I’m fine.”

Piers hums before a light chuckle escapes him. “Ya nearly miss mah concert then zoned out for most of it.”

Leon blinks, taking in everything around them. The large crowd had long disappeared with only a few stragglers remaining to help to put away equipment for another night. 

He smiles apologetically, “Was lost in my thoughts.”

Piers’ hums again, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He waits as he slips the tobacco stick between his lips, brow raising when Leon didn’t continue to elaborate. 

With a light cough, Leon tugs at the brim of his snapback. Covering his eyes to try and hide the burning of his cheeks, “the first time I heard you sing.”

He continues to refuse to meet Piers’ eyes, listening as Piers takes a deep drag of his cigarette. The silence is a little overwhelming and yet he still can’t look up. 

Piers shakes his head, bumping into Leon’s side, “Ya giant sap.” Before Leon can reply, Piers pulls him forward and steals a kiss. Leon’s eyes close at the contact, melting under the others touch.

 “Ya owe me dinner,” Piers whispers against his lips as he pulls away, “Hop and Marnie are waitin’.” 

Leon remains rooted in place, eyes closed as Piers pats his cheek and steps away. A content smile graces his lips as he turns to follow, lopping an arm around the thinner man’s shoulders. Piers protests despite making no attempt  to escape. Simply allowing himself to be pulled closer as Leon buried his face into the others’ soft hair.  

[blainesebastian]

I love your Brio fics! Thanks for sharing them. Curious - what’s your thoughts on season 3? What are you hoping to see??

Aw thank you! That’s very sweet of you :3 thank YOU for reading and leaving this message. Uh season 3 lol I have a very complicated relationship with season 3. I have seen zero spoilers and have been a part of zero conversations with predicting what’s going to happen with people who have been plotting and thinking about it for most of the break. I’ve read I think one person’s predictions and that it lol so I’m not sure this is going to be any analysis--I’ve seen people pick apart everything from dialogue, expressions and clothing (which is super impressive. I think I was the same when Glee was still on lol). SO under the cut is my hopes and dreams for season 3 with minimal analysis and hopefully not a lot of salt.

I think a lot of people know that I didn’t enjoy season 2′s ending, as most seemed to not. I’ve written a lot of fix it fics and put my heart and soul for the relationship I wanted to see brio have into my rubber band series. In saying that:

I really want to see more Rio in general; I know the show isn’t centered around him but I want more than two scenes per episode (would also love if GG wouldn’t use him as click bait and show all of his scenes in the previews and we get zero new content the day of the episode)

I would love more dad Rio (Manny is such a great actor, honestly he just deserves more diversity in his scenes)

More OT3 girl scenes; I love the trio of girls just being great mothers and best friends--women supporting women is a gift

I hate the idea that we’re getting more characters inserted when I feel like they don’t have a solid handle on the characters we do have. Some story lines are a hot mess--one of my masters degrees is in screen and stage writing so when I talk about characterization in series, I feel like I have a little knowledge with what I’m saying here. You don’t add more characters when the writing is poor for the characters you already have (not shitting on the writers, but I think we call can agree that Beth’s characterization at the end of season 2 is NOT developmentally sound). In general as a show, you should do 5 things well, not 15 things kinda okay or terrible.

Beth’s idea that she can be a badass on her own and not fail at least a few times is not okay and I’m not about it. She’s gotten great learning tips (we can assume) from Rio and she has natural talent but just because you’re a great baker does not mean you should open your own bakery. I really want to see her struggle and fail and THEN learn from her mistakes and come out awesome.

This goes along with guilt. I want to see her feel guilty about her decisions to shoot Rio (was it three times? I can’t remember).  I know they were at odds with one another and Rio kidnapping her was so stupid--but I feel like they did a fast forward with her not feeling the consequences of her own actions. Did she really hate him enough to shoot him? Ugh.

I do not want Rio to be somehow impressed with her shooting him. 

I want the frenemies, forced to work together story line with actual communication that we deserve for brio.

I love the idea of Rio becoming an informant for the police / somehow forced to work for them and teetering on the idea of trying to get back at Beth by turning her in (this sounds like a fanfic).

I want Annie to love herself and be a little family with her kid without a man.

I really don’t want Beth to forgive Dean and for us, as an audience, to somehow accept the idea that the man that Beth hated (yes, hated) is her soulmate just because bad writing says so. It’s one thing for Beth to accept that Dean is a part of her life for her kid’s sake--but for her to fall back in love with Dean is poor characterization. It’s also underestimating Beth as a strong female character.

Eventually I’d be okay with Rio being impressed that Beth attempted to do business on her own.

I’d love for them to be real partners, 50/50, where Rio actually listens to her in terms of doing business and vice versa.

Uh, I think that’s it! This list somehow turned into some things I didn’t want to see lol sorry. Thanks so much for asking anon, it’s nice to know that even though I don’t feel like I’m a big part of the fandom, that someone cares about what I think :3 Hope you enjoyed!

[etherati]

Wellspring [1/14]

AN: This is something I saw @thatreallytallbrowngirl​ doing with their AMAZING trephacard fic and it occurred to me that this might be a good idea, since an 80K+ word fic is a little intimidating to just dive into. And serializations are fun! Sorta retro! Like radio shows! Hey so I don’t actually know what I’m talking about at this point, but let’s have some fun. 

I’ll post the entire content thinger here with part 1 and after that, just warnings specific to the chapter.

Fandom: Netflix Castlevania, post season 2 Characters/Pairings: Trevor, Sypha, Alucard, Trephacard ot3  Rating/Warnings: Adult/explicit eventually. Depression, grief/mourning, blood/violence, blood drinking, sex, an absolutely brutal amount of feels, and far more fluff and conversation and healthy character growth than this warning list lets on to. Summary: Wellspring (n): Where something begins.

Trevor’s been throwing rocks and coins and shit into wells for most of his life, without any expectation of getting wishes granted or anything stupid like that. All he really wants is to know there's something down there.

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

“Look, Tref,” Alina says, a tease creeping along the undersurface of her words. “It’s a bottomless faery well. Bet something really fierce lives down there, eh?”

The granite is cold under his palms, crisscrossed as they already are with old cuts and scars and still too small to span the width of the stone. It's an itching sort of cold, settling into his bones like a haunting, dank stale air wafting up from the depths they're all peering into—and at eight years old, Trevor Belmont knows with certainty that there is no such thing as a bottomless well. It's a thing of bedtime stories, gold rings and promises and witches’ spells. It’s the same sort of crap that makes the port town cartographers draw dragons out beyond the edge of the world, when the world is obviously a broad curving bow reaching back around on itself and sure, there are dragons out there, or something very much like them, but they don’t only dwell in those catastrophic shallows. He knows this because his family knows it, because there are things the Belmonts have always known and must know to do their work; there are enough real horrors in the world to deal with without inventing and imagining new ones, daring them into existence. The world is no tabletop with a cliff drop at the edge; the sun does not move round them like human life is all that matters in the cosmos; there is no such thing as a bottomless well.

He still reaches one hand out, dropping a pebble in to hear its quiet rattling descent, going on and on, skittering away and then swallowed up by the darkness and silence. No splash.

His father pushes away from the well in disgust. They're all thirsty, have been on the road for days, on the trail of some creature that’s been licking the village girls’ feet bloody and leaving them flowers while they sleep, petals singed black at the edges—a zmeu maybe, Trevor thinks, but the rest of the party disagrees so he’s keeping his mouth shut. And it's one thing to have to break up a well that's iced over, but there’s not even a sign of ice down there.

Trevor casts around behind himself, scouring through the frost and rot-sweet leaf litter for a larger stone, big and heavy enough that they'll really be able to hear if it hits something. Everyone else is giving up, but there's a crawling feeling up the back of his neck that is telling him, something is not right here.

"It's dry, boy," his father says, cuffing him back from the edge just as he lets the stone drop; a normal child might have stumbled backward, slipped and fallen into the wet embankment. He just takes a steadying step back, feet stable on the slightly slick, uneven terrain, listening to the clunk and clatter of the rock going down and down and down. "We'll get nothing from it. Not worth our time."

"But—"

"What have we taught you," his father interrupts mildly, "About time, and strength?"

From the well: silence. No splash and no impact.

"Both are like the food in your bag," Trevor recites. "They don't last forever, and it's easier to carry what you have than to find more later."

"Good lad. Let’s keep moving; we might make a town by sunset."

So they move on. It's Alina’s hunt really, his eldest sister and the toughest hunter in their generation so far; he's just along to carry some of the gear, and watch and learn, and otherwise stay well back out of trouble. It'll be a year or two at least before they arm him on these outings with anything more than the short sword he uses to spar with at home, before they expect him to be able to sense the monsters on their tail before he sees them, before he'll be able to feel the tingling hum and burn in a consecrated weapon and channel it to its purpose. But there was something about that well—he's sure of it, even as they leave it behind them. Something he can feel in his skin and in his blood, something that makes his teeth itch and his hackles rise. Whatever is in there, it's for damn sure not nothing.

* *

He drops a lot of rocks into a lot of wells, from that point on—and bits of branches and bent old worthless coins, testing each and every one he comes across for that same eerie silence. Every mundane splash that echoes back up feels like a reprieve, like one more day before he’ll have to face whatever hungry thing it is that lurks in bottomless depths.

* *

Twenty-some years and one dead vampire lord later, wandering along a dry creekbed that Sypha has insisted is a common shortcut through these woods and which does feel weirdly familiar, he comes across the well again. Or a well anyway; it might not be the same well—they’re all pretty much the same in the end, stones and moss and a bucket and so on. But he recognizes that weird tugging in the back of his brain, the same part of his awareness that tells his feet that he needs to dodge before the rest of him catches up, and it’s enough to make him halt the horses, hand the reins to Sypha and drop down from the wagon, wordlessly investigating.

She comes up behind him just as he’s letting a rock drop in; he shouts after it for good measure, but there’s no returning echo—just the distant ringing of stone on stone, fading. As in his memories of being here that first time: no sound of impact.

“What is it?” she asks, and it’s on the tip of his tongue to say, A well, to laugh a little and say You know, one of those things you pull water out of, just to watch her get all affectionately annoyed.

“I’ve been here before,” he says instead, a little distant, tracing his fingers over the stone. He circles the well, footsteps silent in the wet grass, face dipping in and out of dappled shadow from the tree cover above. “It was the same then, too. Listen.”

He chucks another stone in; she listens, nodding as the silence stretches. “Is it dry?”

“Maybe. Or it goes on forever.”

“Or it’s enchanted.”

“What?” he asks, snorting his incredulity. “Catching everything that’s tossed in? Could be a wrecking yard of rocks and coins and things down there.”

“Just hovering over the water,” and there’s amusement in her voice. “Though I cannot imagine why anyone would enchant a well to do that.”

“Some weird packrat of a magician maybe. Like those birds.”

“Magpies?”

“Mmm.”

“I don’t know. It still doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Trevor shifts, braces on the well’s rim, leaning in over the blackness. “Makes more sense than it actually being bottomless,” he says, voice hollowed out and swallowed up by the cold stone.

Silence for a moment, breathing in that same stale air he remembers, and he wonders how many other voices have disappeared into it, how many strangers’ words he’s tasting on the back of his own tongue. Then a warm orange light flickers off to the side.

“Do you want me to—?” Sypha asks, gesturing into the darkness with the contained little ball of flame and light she’s got hovering in her palm.

“No,” Trevor says, after a stretch. “I don’t— I don’t think I want to know which it is.”

* *

An hour or so later, as the sun’s starting to work its melting, bleeding way under the horizon, Trevor again stops the horses. There’s imagery in his head—bottomless pits and icy stone in the wintertime and endless, hopeless falls, from grace or otherwise—that he’s been struggling to connect with something that makes sense. All at once, the pieces have come together, the answer standing out like a splash of sunlight across a darkened room.

Somewhere nearby, the rough, ugly call of an evening bird.

“So, ah. What do you think about going back to the castle?” he asks, tentative.

A sigh of relief from next to him, as if she’d been a hair’s breadth from saying it too and had been anticipating an argument. “We should. We don’t have any other destination at the moment, and I was beginning to feel aimless.”

“You’ve spent your life a nomad. Isn’t aimlessness part of that whole package?”

“Yes, but since all of this began, I’ve learned what it feels like to have direction,” she says, gesturing at the horizon. “To have purpose.”

That’s bullshit; she’s always had direction, he thinks, always had purpose. Always had a strong sense of what has to be done, or else he wouldn’t have found her in the catacombs like he did. But maybe she just means knowing which way to point the wagon. “How’s it feel?”

“Good! But I am not the only one who needs purpose, and I think this is the direction we’ve been needing.”

“Sure,” he says, casual. “Just to… check on the state of things. It’s been a while. Make sure everything’s still secure.”

She laughs a little, knowingly, teasing. “Of course. That is clearly what you are most concerned with, Trevor Belmont.”

Shit. Whole name means she’s on to him. “It is!”

“Of course,” she repeats and then, mercifully, drops the subject.

* *

So they go back.

It’s a careful process, avoiding the town spread out below and all of its fucking horrible memories, tethering the horses up to a bit of old Belmont ruins. They pick their way over the wreckage of the castle’s entryway that has still not been cleared, and dodge around the largest bloodstains in the carpets that have still not been washed away, and don’t talk about just how worried they’re becoming with each step through this abandoned, desolate space.

“Maybe he did go back to sleep after all,” Trevor says, trying for disappointment but it sounds stupid and naive even to his own ears. He pauses at the base of the staircase, hand settling on the wood.

“Or maybe he has been working on the hold instead? It took a lot more structural damage than this place did,” Sypha suggests, and see, on her? Optimism works. It doesn’t sit like an ill-fitting coat on the frame of her voice, forced and false, like it does when he gives it a go. He can almost believe her.

But there’s a voice in his head, the same one that’s been with him for fifteen years with helpful reminders every time he dares to forget that everyone he’s ever loved is dead, and it’s communing with all the old ghosts in this place to say that maybe, maybe something else has happened. It’s a thought he tries to dodge but it’s like it’s made of thornweed, covered in sticky burrs, and the harder he struggles against it the more it snags and cuts him.

Maybe the townspeople chased him out, it starts out, pretty benign. Survivable. Pitchforks, torches—they like those here.

Then: Maybe they did more than just chase him.

Then: Maybe one of those rogue vampire Generals decided to come here and do away with the last bastion of humanity in their fucked-up, demented power structure.

Maybe…

He thinks about Alucard, standing on this very spot at the base of the stairs, eyes a hundred miles away as he called this place his grave, and Trevor had said No but what does no mean, to a creature who’s never had to follow a command in his life? Hell, Trevor had told him to make something of the place too, and that clear as fuck hasn’t happened.

“This feels wrong,” Sypha says, toeing at a bloodstain that looks, in the light, like it’s fresher than the others. “I don’t like it.”

Trevor closes his eyes, takes a deep breath through his nose; the smell of old blood is overpowering. If the worst has happened, he thinks, if they find Alucard upstairs somewhere staked and bled out for weeks, he can only pray to whatever wrathful god still pays attention to him that there will be revenge to be had, someone to aim his fury at, someone whose blood he can spill in return—cleanse these walls with it, let it soak into the soles of his boots and know that justice has been done.

They climb the staircase in silence, dust motes floating thick in the sunlight streaming in through the unshuttered windows.

*

Part 2 --->

[banshee-cheekbones]

happy fanfic writer’s appreciation day y’all!

I’ve been a part of the Unsolved fandom since November 2017, and I continue to be staggered at just how goddamn talented this fandom is. I’ve read so, so many thousands of words of quality fic, and I wanted to share a few of my faves with you! this list includes Shyan and ot3 fics, along with a few crossovers. 

ao3 and tumblr links are both included whenever possible; please let me know if any links are incorrect or broken and I’ll update them asap. please show these authors some love and appreciation, whether it’s through a kudos, a comment or a reblog! as always, please be certain to read the tags and ratings so you have the best reading experience for yourself. 

and now, with that being said, below the cut are 70ish fics, in alphabetical order, sorted by ship!

Ryan/Sara/Shane

A Perfect Piece of Ass, Like Every Californian by beethechange. 6866 words, rated E. ao3.   “Happy birthday, Shane,” Sara says. “I got you a Ryan.”

Comments: this is just pure, unadultered smut and frankly, we don’t deserve Bee. she’s so good and this is so good.

Civil Discussion by ricky_goldsworth. 1854 words, rated E. ao3. “Sara,” Ryan says, very seriously. “You can have sex anywhere, if you’re determined enough.”

Comments: in real life, I have an impassioned rant ready to go at any given moment about how dumb of an idea shower sex is, but this fic almost changed my mind. it’s that incredible.

Cotton by ricky_goldsworth. 561 words, rated T. ao3. It starts on a Saturday night.

Comments: clothes sharing is my favorite trope of all time, and this was super sweet and perfect.

Daisy Canfield Will Have Her Revenge On Los Angeles by ricky_goldsworth. 5852 words, rated T. ao3.  Once Sara becomes a permanent addition to the True Crime crew, it’s inevitable that she ends up roped into the filming for the next season of Supernatural, too.

Comments: This is the first ot3 fic I ever read and it made me fall in love with them. The dynamic is spot-on, and the way they fall together is very sweet and natural. 

ghoooOOOooost.mov by ElasticElla. 1542 words, rated M. ao3 & tumblr.  "Did I tell you Shane and I might’ve caught a ghost on video?”

Comments: not only does this fic have one of the best titles that I’ve ever seen, but I’m a sucker for Ryan being stuck on Sara and Shane, and this fic is a nice twist on that!

hands to the sky (show me that you're mine) by angelsaves. 3631 words, rated E. ao3.   Sara fills in for Shane on a Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural shoot, and she and Ryan totally see a ghost. The only way to keep it from infiltrating their nightmares is, of course, cuddling.

Comments: I love, love this, especially the Ryan/Sara dynamic! 

Ryan/Shane

a breath of myth and mystery by abovetheruins. 8295 words, rated M. ao3 & tumblr. At first Shane has no idea what the whole song and dance routine is about. All he sees is the familiar broad span of Ryan's back, the dimples resting just above his ass, the dip of his spine, and miles of bronze skin, until Ryan nudges his hoodie further up the length of his back, wincing as he carefully maneuvers the hem over what Shane realizes aren't actually folds in the fabric but lumps beneath it.

Comments: I’ve never been a huge wing!fic person, but this fic changed my mind. it’s wonderfully written, and there’s some extremely sensual moments that were a delight to read.

(a moment) by thisissirius. 1437 words, rated G. ao3.   Ryan is shivering when they get back to the motel. 

comments: Look, you can never have enough huddling for warmth! this is extremely sweet and fluffy.

and all the birds have flown by anarchetypal. 1575 words, rated M. ao3. Detective Madej knows Ryan Bergara is guilty, but there’s no evidence. Nothing will stick to him. He’s like smoke, and Shane can’t catch him.

Comments: I love a good serial killer au, and this is right up there. the narration is very different and unique, and I dig it.

and i'm puffing my chest, getting red in the face by pissedofsandwich. 6052 words, rated T. ao3.  Or: Shane is definitely not at all jealous of how close Zack and Ryan are getting during the making of Sports Conspiracies. Except that he is.

Comments: I love jealous Shane, and I love Zack Evans, and this fic has a multitude of both. the ending is fantastic.  

Back to You by punk_rock_yuppie. 6168 words, rated T. ao3 & tumblr. Shane wakes up and knows immediately that something is wrong.

Comments: this fic punched me in the heart. it’s a little bit angsty and a little bit bittersweet and extremely good. 

Be Your Teenage Dream Tonight by hapakitsune. 4203 words, rated E. ao3.   Shane wears a cheerleader outfit for #content and things get weird.

Comments: have you ever wondered if there was smut involving That cheerleader outfit? I’m here to tell you that yes, there is, and it is amazing. 

but still let me tell you that i love who you are by BooyahFordhamYacht. 1136 words, rated G. ao3. Or, five voicemails from Ryan that Shane refuses to delete.

Comments: I’m a sucker for 5+1 style fics, and the concept of this one is honestly adorable. 

cat(astrophe) by ElasticElla. 3218 words, rated T. ao3 & tumblr. “She’s hideous. And she doesn’t blink,” Ryan says, and just to spite him, the cat looks up and slowly blinks.

Comments: this fic is absolutely adorable. not only does Ella write the boys super well, but she also perfectly nails the mannerisms of a cat.

City of Angels by carrieonfighting. 2765 words, rated T. ao3.   Alternatively, two dorks skip work and go to the beach and don't even realise it's a date.

Comments: I’m a sucker for little slice of life fics, and this is absolutely wonderful. It also makes me want to move to Los Angeles.  

Coffee by YogurtTime. 2628 words, rated T. ao3 & tumblr. "Sometimes Shane taps a set of fingers against his hip to get him to move; there’s no time for words when you’re clocking eight orders every five minutes between 7 and 10 A.M even if the touch lingers and Ryan feels the touch burn until the end of his shift."

Comments: Look y’all, I’m also sucker for coffee shop AUs and this one is perfect. their dynamic is complicated and feels super natural, and the ending is very soft. 

Collateral Damage by istie. 5801 words, rated E. ao3 & tumblr.  Shane learns to walk in heels for a video - not just walk in them, but murder strut. Ryan doesn't want to admit he's into it, but ... he's really, really into it.

Comments: so y’all know that video about Shane walking in heels? this fic came first. it is hilarious and smutty and perfectly characterized, and comes complete with a cake recipe!

didn't know that i was starving (til i tasted you) by abovetheruins. 5289 words, rated E. ao3.  He was never like this, before. He’d always had the hunger under control, didn’t need to feed often or much at all unless he had gone too long without. Food sustained him just as well, though it never did quite sate that itch, the craving for skin and sweat, breath and heat.

Comments: I didn’t know that I needed incubus Ryan until this fic, but not only is it quite hot, it’s also surprisingly sweet and domestic!

First Anniversary. 1750 words, rated G. ao3. Shane's distracted, it's their first anniversary and Ryan doesn't even seem to remember.

Comments: This fic has been orphaned on ao3, but it’s very sweet, and I love the anniversary gifts! 

first, i have to be alone with you by alvaughn. 2144 words, rated M. ao3. Shane’s surprised Ryan hasn’t noticed.

Comments: Shane discovers Ryan’s choking kink and I am very into it.

From a Kiss to a Thrill by punk_rock_yuppie. 1602 words, rated M. ao3 & tumblr.  He’s sculpted and fit and the fact that he can throw Shane around like it’s nothing is just fucking great.

Comments: Did someone say size kink? The dirty talk in this is blistering.

fuck you (Can I Have This Dance?) by punk_rock_yuppie. 2565 words, rated E. ao3 & tumblr.   It starts in a bathroom and ends in Ryan's bed.

Comments: This is smut, pure and simple, folks. Very, very good smut. I won’t be able to listen to a certain Nine Inch Nails song again without thinking of it. 

ghosts can’t pick up power drills (probably) by anarchetypal. 1193 words, rated M. ao3. “What you’re suggesting is that we have sex in the exact spot where a dude was once brutally murdered with a power drill. That is what you’re suggesting to me right now.”

Comments: there is some a+ banter in this, and it’s a good fun fic!

he shoots, he scores by ElasticElla. 2417 words, rated M. ao3 & tumblr. If it wasn’t for basketball, he wouldn’t know exactly how good Ryan looks after scoring the winning point.

Comments: this fic was a present for me, and what a marvelous present. Shane fawning over how Ryan looks playing basketball, plus frottage? it’s truly wonderful.

Hold Your Breath, It Gets Better by beethechange. 10297 words, rated E. ao3.  Comments and summary: Essentially, Shane discovers Ryan’s anal beads. Shenanigans ensue. Very well-written, ludicrously hot shenanigans. 

Honey. 2472 words, rated M. ao3.  Alternatively: Ryan Bergara seizes the moment.

Comments: another orphaned fic. One of the tags on this is ‘sensuality’ and honestly, what an accurate tag. The first kiss in this is a+. 

Hot Scary Summer by thewindupbird. 11626 words, rated E. ao3.  The boys hunt some ghosts, make some impulsive choices, and try their best to sort out what it means to get to the heart of this thing.

Comments: The way this author writes kills me. The details, how thoroughly they get into both of their heads, the analysis of their relationship, it’s all so damn good. 

I love your bones (series) by thewindupbird. 32,357 words across three works, rated E. ao3. 

Comments: the precursors to Maelstrom, these fics are bittersweet and beautiful and painful, all in the best way possible.

if we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now by floatingonthelehigh. 3331 words, rated T. ao3.  Shane gets Ryan to come to an old abandoned house with him. One of them, and you'll never guess who, gets more than a little freaked out. Featuring: pure terror! confessions of love! and a somewhat-terrifying framed photograph of a woman!

Comments: this is such a cute fic, with an exceptionally soft Shane just wanting to be alone with Ryan. it’s so fluffy.

if you believe in magic by abovetheruins. 2908 words, rated E. ao3.  Ryan has this theory – just the one, because it’s the only one that makes sense. Not that it actually does make sense, because… well, it doesn’t. Shane will say that it doesn’t, anyway. He’ll say that it’s ridiculous, that it’s illogical, that the only reason it exists in the first place is because it strokes Ryan’s ego, and hey, he’s not wrong.

Comments: this is a last minute addition, because I read it last night and my brain just kinda shouted hot damn the entire time. 

if you love me, come clean by juniperProse. 765 words, rated T. ao3.   Four times Ryan felt absolutely in love with Shane Madej, and one time he (accidentally) told him so.

Comments: I have a soft heart and fluff makes me happy, so this definitely made me happy.

i’ll hold your hand (but only if you want me to) by cactsu. 4466 words, rated E. ao3. (basically based on the ‘I’m pretending to be your bf because you looked VERY uncomfortable with that person at the bar hitting on you’ prompt)

Comments: Look, I’m a big fan of that trope, so I really enjoyed this!

i'll tell you about the magic (it'll free your soul) (series) by  punk_rock_yuppie. 18260 words across three works, rated E. ao3.  A variety of magical creatures inhabit the earth: werewolves, sirens, and faeries, oh my! The LA Buzzfeed office is chockful of these creatures; here are some of the shenanigans they get up to.

Comments: Features telepath Ryan, demon Shane and some delightful BuzzFeed shenanigans! 

I’m Gonna Keep You in Love with Me (for a While) by beethechange. 21847 words, rated E. ao3.  Comments and summary: Every fandom needs a married in Vegas fic. This is that fic for the Unsolved fandom. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever read. Bee writes developing relationships like no one else. 

i’m lost without you by bodhirookes. 7213 words, rated M. ao3.  Ryan's weekend long Star Wars marathon gets interrupted when Shane starts throwing rocks at his window, and it only gets better from there. As in, lots of boys crying and having life-affirming sex and Jake Bergara kicking ass and taking names better.

Comments: There seem to be surprisingly few high school aus in this fandom, but this one is A+. It’s perfectly sweet and nostalgic. 

In These Frozen and Silents Nights by beethechange. 25257 words. ao3 & tumblr. Planning a shoot at a remote cabin in Vermont the week before Christmas wasn't Ryan’s best-ever idea. Taking a leisurely walk in a blizzard wasn't Shane’s. Scrap the ep, there’s a new plan: survive the storm, stay warm, try not to kill each other, and figure some shit out along the way.

Comments: If you love Shyan in general or snowed-in fics in particular, you need to do yourself a favor and read this. The characterization is nothing less than perfect, it made me laugh, it gave me emotions... this fic is essentially perfect. The comment I left on it is embarassingly long and rambling.

it started like this by sky_somedays. 2465 words, rated T. ao3.   Shane thinks that if he can just pin down when it started, maybe he can do something about it. Think himself out of it, somehow. Understand the problem to solve the problem.

Comments: this fic feels like a series of vignettes, documenting some moments in their friendship/relationship, and the writing style is fantastic.

keep you like an oath by spoopyy. 11850 words, not rated. ao3.  "I'm in love with you," Ryan says, desperate.

"No, you're in love with the views."

Comments: Fake relationships and couples getting handcuffed together for 24 hours, with a dash of angst? What’s not to love?

Maelstrom by thewindupbird. 40433 words, rated M. ao3.  Here’s the thing about driving halfway across the country to see someone. You can’t really deny, after that, that you’re pretty much head over heels for them.

Comments: I can’t put my feelings about this fic into proper words. Please just know that it’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever read, and that’s including published works. 

Maple Close (series). 5450 words across three fics, rated E. ao3.

Comments: an orphaned series, but the author is absolutely amazing. This series is about Shane and Ryan growing up together, and it’s beautiful, and the nostalgia is utterly magnificent. like childhood friends? how can you go wrong?

Missed by ricky_goldsworth. 547 words, rated T. ao3.  Aren't you tired every day? / 'Cause I run through your brain / Hold me down, keep me safe

Comments: the opening line of this fic is one of the most beautiful sentences I’ve ever read, and the whole thing is utterly gorgeous.

naked love (don’t you dress it up) by abovetheruins. 5107 words, rated M. ao3 & tumblr.

Comments and summary: The summary is a bit long for this post, but essentially, Ryan finds out that Shane likes to walk around his apartment naked. Wonderful shenanigans ensure. The fic is truly a delight. 

Netflix by YogurtTime. 958 words, rated M. ao3 & tumblr.  "A lot of people liked great movies. None of those people were Shane."

Comments: The prose in this is super unique, and the way they bond over movies is lovely.

oblivion by rocketshiptospace. 2546 words, rated G. ao3. “So, how long have you and Shane been dating?” Jen asks.

Comments: this is so damn fluffy in the best way possible and features a marvelous cameo from Jen. It’s adorable.

one, two, three by adelaidebabe. 3957 words. ao3. ao3.  Shane's a dancer with a dance competition the next day. Ryan's still a ghost hunter. The theater may or may not be haunted. (It's not.)

Comments: I love dancer!Shane, and we all know that I love meet-cutes, so this is perfect for both of those.

only a week by Hugabug. 663 words, rated G. ao3 & tumblr. How lucky I am, that I have something that makes saying goodbye oh so very painful.

Comments: this fic is so sweet and cute, dear god. Give me all the fluff.

our hopes and expectations, black holes and revelations by ElasticElla. 3442 words, rated T. ao3 & tumblr. Live interviewing always carries an inherent risk. A stupid, unnecessary risk if you asked Ryan. May the record show, that it was in fact Shane’s brilliant idea to do a live video q&a.

Comments: I love everything Ella writes, and this is no exception. the kiss towards the end of this fic is amazing and the banter back and forth is so good.

Por Favor, Sweetheart by carrieonfighting. 759 words, rated T. ao3.   Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late. 

Comments: I normally don’t like kid!fic very much but good god, this thing is utterly beautiful. It made me bawl. 

Shut Me Up by YogurtTime. 6274 words, rated E. ao3.  "You never seem to shut up when I'm touching you." Shane and Ryan play a very very terribly executed rendition of the quiet game.

Comments: This fic is incredibly NSFW and is absolutely amazing. And the ending made me burst out into hysterical laughter. 

snowed in. 1424 words, rated E. ao3.

Comments: The ‘being snowed in together’ trope is one of my favorites, and this was actually written for a prompt I left at the kink meme, so I was guaranteed to love it.

the calm before crescendo by abovetheruins. 6731 words, rated M. ao3.  Alternate title: 5 times Shane Madej was flustered by Ryan Bergara, and 1 time he finally did something about it.

Comments: I’m just such a damn sucker for pining Shane. The sequel to this fic (lights and thunder) is also magnificent. 

The Denial Twist by beethechange. 35108 words, rated E. ao3.  Or, the one where Shane and Ryan have some really weird dreams and perhaps, eventually, some sex.

Summary: One of my top five favorites in the fandom. The concept is a+, and this fic made me burst out into cackling laughter multiple times. Truly a delight.

The Devil Went Down to Denton by ricky_goldsworth. 27771 words as of the time of this list, still ongoing. rated M. ao3. A supernatural punk rock story about boys in bands, their immortal souls, and poor decisions made therein.

Comments: I love this fic. It’s got found family, pulp realism, demon Shane and boys in a punk band, and Gray writes Zack so well that I fell in love with him. 

the serial killer ryan quartet (series) by ElasticElla. 10,263 words across four fics, rated E. ao3 & tumblr. 

Comments: this series is exactly what it says on the tin and it is fantastic, but also extremely intense, so please mind the tags!

thin ice by rocketshiptospace. 1529 words, rated G. ao3.  Or, the boys end up frozen and wet after a disasterous shoot in the woods. Shane helps Ryan get warm again.

Comments: I fucking love huddling for warmth, and this is Perfect.

Things That Go Bump in the Night (and 7 till 12 at weekends) by HoopyFrood. 4558 words, rated G. ao3.  Shane works at a Haunted House. Ryan is Ryan. Things go about as well as you'd imagine.

Comments: if y’all like meet-cute fic, then boy do I have the fic for you. this was one of the first fics I read in the fandom and it is adorable.

tongues on electric sockets by ElasticElla. 1702 words, rated T. ao3 & tumblr.   It’s been not-raining over the dog park for eight weeks now. All of the council members say to ignore it, the unknown will fix it when they deign to.

Comments: sort of a WTNV fusion, this fic is super unique and atmospheric and spooky.

Untitled Tumblr Fic by en-sam-malas. 908 words, rated G (I think), tumblr. Written for the prompt Shyan and drunken confessions. 

Comments: Have I ever mentioned how much I love love confessions? This is fluffy and sweet and I adore it.

Untitled Tumblr Fic by en-sam-malas. 714 words, rated G. tumblr. Comments: there’s lots of hand-holding and fluff here, and it made me cry from joy. 

Untitled Tumblr Fic by theawfuledges. 934 words. tumblr. Written for the prompt ‘making out in the forest on the bigfoot hunt because too much beer’.

Comments: look, I just love fics that involve making out, and this is genuinely perfect.

Vampire by YogurtTime. 1022 words, rated E, ao3 & tumblr. "The first time Ryan had kissed him, he’d tasted the murder on Ryan’s tongue."

Comments: I’m a simple person: I love vampire aus, and this is a beautifully gory, perfect one.

waiting here for catastrophe by anarchetypal. 2140 words, rated M. ao3. “Ryan.” Shane breaks off and sits down again, slides his chair closer to Ryan’s, stares him down. “God, fuck, look at me, okay, I did this. I did this, this is my case, this is mine, everything you’re talking about—”

Comments: another serial killer au, this time with a dash of humor! the dialogue in this is on point, and it’s a really interesting variation on the au!

walking in the wind. 2853 words, rated M. ao3. In which Shane and Ryan go on a hundred dates and fall in love along the way.

Comments: I love everything about this fic. The concept is A+ and the ending made me cry in the best possible way.

wasted on you by cursingcursive. 1950 words, rated M. ao3.  there's a reason shane loves when ryan wears his clothes.

Comments: look, I just love clothes sharing so goddamn much. I can’t help it. 

wear it well by ElasticElla. 2171 words, rated T. ao3.  Summary & comments: this is basically a serial killer au with clothes sharing. Obviously I loved it.

what’s the point of this again? by touchinghearts. 9317 words, rated T. ao3.  When Ryan invites Shane back for a holiday week to meet his family during a big reunion, it doesn’t even occur to Shane that it could be a big deal.

Comments: I love family fics, and oh boy does this deliver. Ryan’s family is such a delight in this, and seeing Shane become part of the family made my heart skip a beat. 

YELLOW SQUARE by dejavu. 15915 words, rated M. ao3. (Or; Ryan and Shane spend four nights in one haunted house—four nights twisting closer to either each other, or insanity)

Comments: this fic is absolutely incredible. the suspense is built up really well, the chemistry is incredible, and the first kiss stopped my heart.

you can take off your skin in the cannibal glow by ElasticElla. 3172 words, rated E. ao3 & tumblr.  Ryan refuses to believe it at first, despite the mounting evidence.

Comments: another vampire Ryan fic and per usual, the banter is spot-on.

Ryan/Shane/Zack

i'd love to hold you close, tonight and always by ElasticElla. 1304 words, rated E. ao3 & tumblr.  Or: sometimes Ryan just really needs to get fucked.

Comment: Ella is a gift. the fact I managed to write a coherent comment about this fic is a miracle, because it fried my brain. it continues to fry my brain when I go back and revisit it.

Ryan/Steven

I Stop Breathing when You Smile by punk_rock_yuppie. 2135 words, rated G. ao3 & tumblr. Ryan unwittingly falls in love with Steven's smile.

Comments: I am contractually obliged to fall in love with a rarepair in every fandom I join, and here’s one example. This fic is absolutely fluffy and so damn sweet. 

Ryan/Zack

building up that anticipa- by ElasticElla. 666 words, rated M. ao3.  “What kinda favor would you like then?” Zack asks, eyes dragging down in a way that makes Ryan wanna toss all his morals out the window.

Comments: the frat boy au of my dreams that managed to wreck me in under 700 words. 

Shane/Steven

after the storm (your body feels so warm) by cathect. 1394 words. rated G. ao3.   or, the one where Steven is afraid of thunderstorms.

Comments: I’m in love with this fic and how soft and sweet it is. 

[archivingspn]

Nerds and Beyond: “Interview: Robbie Thompson Talks ‘Silk’, ‘Supernatural’, ‘Star Wars’ and More! [EXCLUSIVE]”

(...)

Nerds and Beyond: So, starting with San Diego Comic Con. You were on a panel about shipping at San Diego Comic Con.

Robbie: Yes.

Nerds and Beyond: What role do you think shipping has on the viewer experience and on your writing? And also, who is your OTP?

Robbie: My OTP… I was on a shipping panel in San Diego that my friend Sam put together — Sam Maggs. It was an interesting panel to be on because I am an older human being and shipping is very new to me. I didn’t really know anything about it until I got on a show called Supernatural and joined Twitter. And then I was instantly informed by a lot of people what shipping was.

I think my only real brush with shipping before that was probably the original slash, I guess, which is Kirk and Spock. Which I had heard about as, like, a teenager going to Star Trek conventions. I was like, “Oh, that’s cool. That sounds lovely.” As far as shipping goes, I think I have sort of an antiquated point of view, because when they asked me on that panel, “Who’s your OTP?”, for me it was Dave and Maddie on Moonlighting.

Which has the unfortunate portmanteau– is that how you say it? You’re French, you know. Portmanteau? Is that right?

Nerds and Beyond: Portmanteau.

Robbie: Dave and Maddie would be “Daddy”, which is not that great. Or, it’s great. I don’t know. And then that transferred to Herbert Viola’s character and Agnes DiPesto. Herbert being, of course, played by Curtis Armstrong, who played Metatron on Supernatural.

Nerds and Beyond: Yeah. He’s a phenomenal actor.

Robbie: I was invested in those couples getting together, that was my understanding of shipping. So, as an audience member… I was just talking about this with a Supernatural fan yesterday, because she asked me, “Do you ship characters on Supernatural?” And I don’t. And not really on shows in general. I think the lens that I look through it, as both a fan and sometimes as a writer, is just a little bit different.

And it’s — Again, my point of view is probably a little bit antiquated, I don’t know because people seem really tuned into romance or potential for romance. I feel like every show that comes out now, every scene that happens on a show, people are instantly online with “Make them kiss”, or one of those kind of things. And that’s not always the first lens through which I view a lot of content.

But as a fellow fan and as a writer, what I respond to is people’s passion. And people are passionate about romantic entanglements, or potential romantic entanglements. They’re excited about it and that’s getting them to, you know, talk about the show or create their own fiction or create their own fanfiction. I think that is awesome. I think it’s fantastic. Not that anybody needs my approval, or not that anybody needs my acceptance or anything like that, but I certainly welcome it. I think it’s great. As far as it affecting me as a writer, it doesn’t really affect me at all.

To me, I’m telling a story and I know… I have enough of a, I don’t know if this is the right expression, but an understanding of the audience, especially when I was working on a show like Supernatural, that there are gonna be things I write that people are gonna see in a certain light no matter what story I might be telling.

Nerds and Beyond: Mm-hmm.

Robbie: You know, if you take 24 hours in a day, you watch the 42 minutes of the show, if it’s a network show, and then you spend the rest of the 23 hours in your day engaging in fandom, which isn’t always the text of the show. It’s fan fiction, fan art, long discussions and posts online. I think it can create a really interesting relationship where the audience is in much more control of the narrative from their own standpoint than they have been in the past.

But it does sometimes, I think, create a disconnect. The 42 minutes does not always line up with the other 23 hours. And I hear about it because people are not shy online. We were talking about that the other day — where it’s like, you all aren’t hiding it; it’s on the internet. You’re posting it and sometimes tagging me.

So, I saw a lot of that stuff. But it never affected the writing. You know, I had a story I needed to tell. And it’s also almost impossible for me to react in real time, ‘cause I know in advance what’s going to happen in the story. Again, if I was on a network show like Supernatural, the writing you’re seeing air was done sometimes six months, sometimes a year before you guys would watch it. So when people would comment, “Oh, they listened to what we were saying last week and they made adjustments,” it’s like, no, we wrote that story months ago. I’m glad that you expressed yourself online, and you should — you totally should — but there’s really no way to react in real time. And I don’t think it’s always a good thing to try even if you could. You wanna make sure that you’re telling the story you want to tell.

Nerds and Beyond: Without it being, like, molded by whatever you’re hearing.

Robbie: I like to say that I like to engage with fans because I am a fan myself and I like the dialogue. I like to be able to interact with people. But I like to say that I’m listening, but I’m not taking dictation. And ultimately, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. On a show like Supernatural, I’m also not in charge. I don’t get to make all of the decisions. The feedback is important, but it doesn’t change the week to week. The show is months ahead of you guys. I think a new Supernatural’s on next week. That was probably written in April or May of last year. I would imagine they’re probably, let’s see it’s October? They’re probably nearing the end of the season, I think, just ‘cause it’s a shorter order this year – it’s 20.

I bet you they’re probably on 17 or 18 right now. Somewhere around there. ‘Cause they work really fast. That’s always been a very fast show and a very efficient show. So, yeah, it doesn’t really affect me as a writer. I’ve worked on other things like comics, where I know that people have an expectation of certain relationships and sometimes you will lean on that a little bit. But that’s also just me responding to the text. Like, you know, if I was writing X-Men back when I was a kid, Kitty and Colossus were like a thing, so I could respond to that but I’m also responding as a fan as well.

Nerds and Beyond: Mm-hmm.

Robbie: I guess I ship them, too, by the way. I think shipping is fantastic. I just think I come at it from a different perspective because I’m older. And, I think I engage in fandom in a way that doesn’t match the passion of current fandom. I thought I was a fan of stuff. I thought I was like a big, passionate fan and then I met Supernatural fans and was like, “I am remedial at best.” You know, people will tell me episode number, scenes, frame numbers… all this stuff, and again. I am a diehard Star Wars fan. I love Star Trek. I love Marvel comics and DC comics. But there is a level of fandom that I am not able to reach ‘cause I don’t have the skill set. Like, the skill set amongst specifically Supernatural fans and fandom is incredible high level shit. This is AP all the way, and I’m sort of like in third grade math over here. So, yeah in conclusion, I think I come at it from a slightly different perspective, but no, it never really affected my writing.

Nerds and Beyond: Have you heard of the phrase BrOTP?

Robbie: I have. I think broment is another one I heard.  What was the other one….? BrOTP is one. I didn’t know any of these things. Like OT3s I didn’t know.

Nerds and Beyond: Yeah.

Robbie: I didn’t know. I had to look up OTP, I had to look up… I mean, there was a lot of things I had to look up. And I put it into the 200th episode, there was BMs and stuff like that. Internally, we would call them BMs. And I was like, “Uh, that’s kind of gross.”

Nerds and Beyond: Bowel movements.

Robbie: But it was a, you know…

Nerds and Beyond: Broment.  

Robbie: And bromance I hadn’t really heard of before. I know that some people are not fans of that phrase.

Nerds and Beyond: Yeah.

Robbie: But, yeah, Supernatural was extremely educational for me as a writer because I was very inexperienced when I joined that staff, but I was also, I think, very inexperienced as a writer interacting online. I like to think I did okay, but I’m sure I made a lot of mistakes along the way and I’m still learning. I am still learning all these phrases.

Nerds and Beyond: We think you did fabulously.

Robbie: I appreciate that. I tried my best.

(...)

Nerds and Beyond: What character have you written that you most identify with? 

Robbie: (...)When I was writing Dean, I was trying to relate to his perspective. You know, a guy who is deeply dedicated to family. Sam was probably the one I probably, if you wanted to get Psych 101, probably the character on that show I most related to, just because he’s the youngest of two boys and I’m the youngest of two boys. And he rebelled against his dad, I rebelled against my dad, but they ended up very similar people. I ended up like my dad, which I’m grateful for, because my dad was a fucking rockstar. He was a great dude. I’m not an older brother. My brother is very much like Dean. Just as handsome. But also very protective and also looked up to dad as well, but became his own guy, too, and all that good stuff. So, there was a core part of that show that I really, I thought Kripke baked into the Pilot, that really resonated with me in a very emotional level.

But I wouldn’t say that there’s any one character more than the other. If I had to pick one, I guess it would probably be Sam. There’s a great deal to relate to with Castiel. Again, sort of this outsider. He’s a guy that rebelled against his family in a way that I think we all kind of do. No matter how much you love your family, or not, there’s gonna be a little bit of friction there. I just try to find whatever aspect of them that I can relate to, and then I try to defend their point of view, even if it’s, you know, I wrote on shows with demons and monsters. You gotta defend their points of view. Again, it’s kind of a pretentious answer, but I try to, like actors do, I try to inhabit the character as I’m writing them and be their advocate, and be like, “No, no, no, they would say this, they wouldn’t say this, they wouldn’t do that.” I think if you can find that sort of sweet spot, where you’re kind of advocating for them but not just totally taking dictation or whatever, then I think that you’re in a good spot to steer them in the right direction. (...)

[source]

[ladylilithprime]

All numbers divisible by 3, 5, or 7?

Ugh, math at three in the morning? XP

3: What season finale was your favorite/least favorite?

Hm. I really can’t pick a favorite, simply because every season finale is either bittersweet or very obviously leading Somewhere Bad. For the complexity, I’d have to say Swan Song is the leader, just barely edging out “Do You Believe In Miracles”. Least favorite is definitely season twelve, if only because it felt so sloppy and kind of rushed.

5: Which episode makes you cry the most?

I actually can’t answer that as I still haven’t seen all of the episodes, and my reasons for crying vary between gutpunch and rage, so… I dunno. We’ll see.

6: Which episode was the funniest to you?

Hands down, 6.9, “Clap Your Hands If You Believe”! XD

7: What’s your opinion on Megstiel?

Probably my favorite canon pairing for Castiel, and I’m sorry we didn’t get to see that explored more in the show.

9: Which episode title do you think is the funniest?

Tough choice there! I think I’m going to go with “Are You There, God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester”. Sorry, Dean-o, Margaret you are not.

10: What’s your opinion on Garth?

Answered that one!

12: Who is your favorite angel?

Castiel, though Gabriel is a close second!

14: What’s your opinion on Wincest?

You do know they’re brothers, right? ^_~ In all honesty, I can see it about as well as any ship for either brother, but I have to be in a certain mood for it and it needs to be handled with the utmost consent on both sides.

15: What’s your opinion on Lisa? (And Ben, if you want)

Lisa could have been great, both as a character and for Dean. I think the biggest problem was that she and Dean alway seemed to come together when they both needed different things from each other, and when Dean tried to be what Lisa was looking for it kept rubbing up against the fact that what he needed most wasn’t her. Both she and Ben were badly harmed, not by Dean being in their lives, but by his inability to be wholly in their lives because part of him was still on the road and in the Hunt, and by his repeating Mary’s mistake of “living normal” meaning no protections against the baddies he knew damn well were out there and would happily come a’calling for their pound of Winchester flesh, which he also knew could happen considering Adam Milligan lost his life to ghouls who wanted revenge on John Winchester for his killing their parent. Erasing her memory was a dick move and will in no way protect her from anything because sometimes it doesn’t matter what a person knows or feels for someone else, but what the bad guys think they know or feel– or know the first person feels for them. Overall, two great characters who were poorly handled by “plot”.

18: Do you have a favorite Dick (Roman) joke?

Probably a line from @rodiniaorzetalthepenquin ‘s fic Out Of Purgatory, “After you and Cas disappeared in a shower of exploding Dick….” (Go read it, it’s great!) Although Sam’s line about Dean using his computer for “More anime, or are you strictly into Dick now?” is priceless canon material. XD

20: Who do you ship Sam with?

Consent! (Also Castiel, Dean, Gabriel, Michael, Chuck, Anna, Max Banes…. XD Yeah, I think it would be easier to list who all I don’t ship Sam with. ^_^U)

21: What’s your opinion on Destiel?

Thanks, I hate it. No, really, you want to hear an unpopular opinion? Destiel in canon makes as much sense as the Joker and Harley Quinn, and is just as abusive and unhealthy. Harley should go be with Poison Ivy and Castiel should go be with Sam and leave the Joker to laugh at his own bad jokes somewhere he can’t hurt them anymore. Could it work? Maybe if Dean got a shitton of real, actual therapy and pulled his head out of his ass, or in an AU scenario, but as far as canon goes? Their friendship is already unhealthy enough and you want to add sex into it? (And let’s face it, most Destiel shippers do.) Thank you, please exit to the left, goodbye! (It takes a really careful handling and really fucking great writing to get me to read it, and you had better be bribing me with something amazing if you want me to write it.)

24: Do you read smutty fanfiction?

Not as much as I might if there were more of the pairings I want to read. As it is, the fics for my preferred pairings usually lend themselves more to plot than porn, with some notable exceptions.

25: Do you think Destiel will become canon in season 9? (Regardless of whether you want it to or not)

I really don’t. Oh, they’ll throw in some teasing here and there, but it would take the series ending for good before Dean, Castiel, OR Sam gets a canon relationship they can keep.

27: Which episode is the scariest to you? (Horror-movie type scary)

“The Benders”. As Dean put it, “Monsters I get. People are crazy.”

28: What’s your opinion on Sabriel?

I like it a whole lot better than Destiel, which really makes it frustrating considering how many times that pairing is used to “pair the spares” and give Destiel writers a couple of shipping cheerleaders. That said, there are Issues with the pairing itself that stem from canon, “Mystery Spot” in particular. Healthy communication and closure, or even just serious canon divergence is necessary for this ship to sail strong, but it can be done and done well! The frustration is still just as strong whenever it’s handled poorly or Sam’s very real and valid trauma is brushed aside or ignored. They both deserve better than haphazard narrative.

30: Do you have any friends off of the internet that watch Supernatural?

Sure do! At least three that I know of, including @jupiterjames , and probably a few more who don’t talk to me about it because they know why I didn’t go near Supernatural for years.

33: Do you like AU fanfics?

Sure! I usually have to be in a certain mood for them, and there are some AU scenarios I just can’t get on board with, but that’s a matter of personal preference just like any other aspect of fanfic.

35: What’s your opinion of Samifer?

Creepy and terrifying and an absolutely brilliant job of acting by Jared, both in “The End” and in “Swan Song”. (I would not ship them in a box, I would not ship them wearing socks, I would not ship them here or there– I WOULD NOT SHIP THEM ANYWHERE!!)

36: If you have an OTP, at what point did you start shipping it?

From the first moment I realized that it was possible to ship them, I have shipped Sastiel.

39: Which actor would you most like to meet in real life?

I’m told that Jared’s hugs are not to be passed up if given the opportunity, but in all honesty I want to meet Felicia Day.

40: If you could be any character on the show, would you want to? If so, whom? If not, why?

Answered that one!

42: What is your opinion on Sastiel?

You found my OTP! (Hey, you know me!)

45: What’s your favorite moment from any of the gag reels?

Answered that one!

48: What’s an unpopular ship you have?

If by unpopular you mean I ship I have that just really doesn’t have a lot of content, probably Samichael or Sam/Chuck.

49: What’s your opinion on Wincestiel?

Dean needs so much therapy…. ~is jabbed in the ribs~ Uh, I mean, yes! I ship that! It’s actually tied with Casabriel for my OT3.

50: Can you dig Elvis?

Leave the poor man to his rest, huh?

51: Do you listen to Carry On Wayward Son even when you’re not just watching a finale?

Sure, it comes on the radio plenty of times.

54: Do you think Sam should have completed the Trials?

Honestly, that’s a difficult one to answer. On the one hand, it’s entirely possible that closing the Gates of Hell would have been another “Nice Job Breaking It, Hero” moment this series is so fond of, creating a backup of damned souls with nowhere to go like we saw happen with Heaven, and it’s a popular theory that the two sets of Trials would mirror each other. However, I actually don’t think that the spell Metatron used to close Heaven’s Gates was even close to the real Heaven Trials, nor would it be in any way the same as the one for closing Hell’s Gates. We won’t know for sure, because Sam didn’t finish them, but Metatron’s spell ejected all the angels. Pretty sure Kevin would have seen if the Trials to close Hell were going to eject all the demons, considering he was banking heavily on all the demons being locked away so he could go home and not have to worry about Crowley and his demons breathing down his neck. That said, the Demon Trials were definitely taking their toll on Sam, but it’s all speculation as to whether that was because the Trials were killing him because that was the Trials, or because Sam’s demon blood was reacting badly to the influx of Power, or what. That’s up to fanfic authors to explore, but since canon didn’t take us in that direction we’ll probably never know.

55: How long would you survive as a hunter?

I’d do well enough, provided I wasn’t a victim of unfriendly fire, ie other hunters coming after me because they’re extremist assholes. I’d do better as part of the support system, running a hunters’ bar/restaurant and information network and phone tree.

56: What’s your opinion on Calthazar?

Balthazar deserved better than to be stabbed in the back by a Hell-corrupted Castiel.

57: Do you have a Netflix account? If so, what’s your username and password? Wait a second, just the first part.

I have no idea what the family Netflix username is since I’m usually not… using it? At all? Because my kids take over the television to watch Paw Patrol and Bubble Guppies and Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood?

60: If you could change just one thing about the series, what would it be?

Fire BuckLemming.

63: What’s your opinion on Sam/Crowley?

I could see it happening, maybe. Crowley certainly respects Sam. The problem is that after Ruby and the continuous Sam-shaming over her that Dean/fandom does, Sam is really not keen to get involved with another demon like that, especially not after some of the things Crowley’s done to Sam and to people Sam cares about. Work with him as a wary ally, yes, but a relationship? Highly doubtful outside of AUs.

65: What’s your favorite (or at least a memorable) pop culture reference that has been made on the show?

Dean calling Sam “Velma”, particularly after Scoobynatural where we got canon Salma. Jinkies! XD

66: Just a random confession you have regarding the show/Asker makes up their own question.

I most likely would have continued to not watch this show if I hadn’t been drawn in by the fanfic first, and indeed actually started watching the show so I wouldn’t be breaking my own rules of not writing fanfic for a fandom for which I haven’t seen the source material when I inevitably gave in to the plot bunnies nipping at my vulnerable brain.

[ao3feed-buckyxtony]

Take a Chance on Me

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3gtWmuW

by thedarkmistress

A story of remembering your past so you can have a future:

“I’m so sorry Rina, I never meant to put you in harm’s way.” Rina scoffed.

“Enough of that, clearly there’s more to your history than we thought but like I said we will figure this out.”

“You’re not worried I am some crazy assassin?” Rina looked at Jay in consideration.

“You have been nothing but a gentleman to me. You are so kind, you have such a good heart.” Jay shook his head as if to disagree with her.

“No, listen to me. The other day we were walking back to yours from the market and you literally stopped to help a cat out of tree. You climbed like a spider monkey and the cat just latched onto you and you gave it back to the mum and her child. Just yesterday you stopped to help and old lady across the street. It is like I have been dating a man with manners from the forties and I think that is amazing. I have seen you drunk, sick, happy and angry and never once have I ever doubted the genuine and kind person you are. Never once have I been afraid of you or doubted my inner intuition. I trust you. Whatever your past is we will deal with it together. No matter what, I am with you.”

Words: 7345, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Original Female Character(s), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel)

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Violence, OT3, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3gtWmuW

[pileofsketches]

Hi Writer!

I’m noun on Ao3; thank you for writing for me! To give you an idea of my tastes, I’ve got the standard DNWs below. Anything not mentioned is fair game.

On consent, I’m ok with dubious consent—be it because consent cannot be discussed beforehand, dubcon turning into con, or simply because desire overcomes reasons why person didn’t consent fully in the first place. Otherwise, go wild. I like enthusiastic consent, arousal is arousing.

DNWs: dialogue lifted entirely from canon (callbacks are fine!), first-person writing (unless in epistolary format), character studies (whole fic musing on someone’s canonical actions, no new content/action), hopeless or depressing endings (angst and struggle during the fic = great), coffee shop/minimum wage struggle AUs, noncon, trans headcanons, autism headcanons, asexuality headcanons, prostitution as a positive (background prostitution/mentions of trafficking are a-ok), daddy kink or parental role kink, and sexualized choking.

A/B/O is a trope I absolutely adore—the changes to society! the possessiveness! the various kinks!—but please no male pregnancy/women who can impregnate.

If, in any place, a kink/trope looks to override any specific DNW, the kink/trope wins out. That shouldn’t happen in this exchange, but if it does—kink/trope trumps.

List is organized by fandom, then universal kinks, parings, then paring specific kinks if applicable. There are so many freeform tags, I tried to give a sentence each as to why I like each one, and more if possible. Also, you can assume if I like a specific kink (ie, Breeding Kink -- We Have to Conceive the Chosen One(s)) then I will like it in a general sense (= breeding kink) and it’s a-ok to use it in combo with another prompt.

Assassin’s Creed – All Media Types

I have not played anything after Syndicate, but am familiar with the comics up to Juno’s death and some of the YA novels. Please do not use any of the Odyssey/Origins lore, be it on whatever they’re doing with the Precursor backstory or Assassin motivations or whatever.  

 A/B/O - Alpha begs to be allowed to knot: I love the desperation and the contrast between perceived authority of the alpha versus the omega actually giving permission.

 A/B/O - Animalistic Behavior: Biting, marking, a general retreat to more animalistic instincts. I like A/B/O set-ups where it’s the alpha who gets uncontrollable while the omega, while in heat, retains their wits. I do love nesting omegas!

 A/B/O - breeding triads:  ‘Successful’/stable relationships involve either one of each, or two alphas and an omega, or two omegas and an alpha.

A/B/O - First time rut Alpha with experienced omega: Self-explanatory.  

Alternate Universe - Role Reversal: Fandom specific! Either a) make the Assassins Templars, or b) swap motivations as far as Pieces of Eden.

Bondage and Discipline - Honor Bondage: Give me some of that Assassin control! Does the paranoia and like, actual expertise with restraints and weapons make this the more interesting/more sexual option? How does control get handled when that’s one of someone’s huge ideological pillars?

Breeding Kink - Those are some excellent genes you have there: For any of the past parings, they know they have to have a kid to make Desmond happen. For any of the later ones, is it a pre-Flare attempt to get them a backup plan? Is Abstergo making them do it?

Breeding Kink - We Have to Conceive the Chosen One(s):  For any of the past parings, they know they have to have a kid to make Desmond happen. For any of the later ones, is it a pre-Flare attempt to get them a backup plan? Is Abstergo making them do it?

Character From Future Tries To Convince Current Enemy They Will Be Friends/Allies In Future: Desmond going back to the Farm, Desmond going back before his kidnapping, Desmond waking up from any of his Animus experiences with knowledge of the Flare and trying to get to Lucy earlier, Maria going back to the first time she met Altair and trying to help him, Altair waking up in the middle of his missions from either the end of his life or the middle of his successful relationship and trying to mend things with Malik/meet Maria sooner.

Character goes bad to save the world and enjoys it more than expected: I will kill for this in a ToWK setting for Connor. Or, Desmond—the Eye somehow gives him all the power, and he decides to fix everything/break the cycle. I’m also for this with anyone in the Altair/Malik/Maria trio—what does it look like if one of them manages to use the Apple?

Comes Back Wrong: Mostly for Desmond. Everyone is glad he’s ok, but there’s some element of Precursor/just plain done with being manipulated/whatever you want to slap on. Also, for Malik or Maria after their canonical deaths.

Dubcon voyeurism to consensual threesome: self-explanatory.

Lavish Descriptions Of Historical Clothing: specifically 18th century, but I’m flexible.

Loyalty Kink: self-explanatory.

Sex Pollen: self-explanatory.

Soulmates: Characters have each other's names on their wrists: self-explanatory.

Soulmates - they know from a young age that they're soulmates but smth keeps them apart: self-explanatory.

Touch-Starved Character Having Overwhelming Tender Long Foreplay First Time Sex: self-explanatory, but it does scream Connor.

Werewolves - Sex With Werewolf in Wolf Form: self-explanatory. 

Desmond Miles/Lucy Stillman (Assassin's Creed)  

I like this paring because of what an effective lure Lucy was for Desmond, with the fact that she was 1) attractive 2) saved him and 3) had a relationship with Bill that seemed like perfect bait (and was) for Desmond’s own issues with him. Desmond’s forgiveness of her, Lucy’s tragic death, the parallels that were made in the game between him and Lucy and Maria and Altair—all great.

Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Maria Thorpe (Assassin's Creed)

My favorite OT3s are the ones where each person has an independently strong relationship with the other two in the trio, and supports each one/gets different things out of each one. I like Maria and Malik moderating Altair and dealing with the complicating feelings he has for each one when he’s been such a lone wolf for most of his life. (I am also a big fan of Tazim being Malik and Maria’s kid)

Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor/Original Female Character(s) (Assassin's Creed)

This ship is entirely a vehicle for kinks/tropes, do whatever you’d like to make the OFC work. My only request is that she not be a colonist who’s Not Like Other Girls, ie, won’t wear stays/a corset and a skirt, or be someone that Connor rescued who now has a crush on him. Also, I would kill for a ToKW setting.

Rebecca Crane/Shaun Hastings/Desmond Miles (Assassin's Creed)

Pretty much the same as the Altair/Malik/Maria ship- I like OT3s are the ones where each person has an independently strong relationship with the other two in the trio, and supports each one/gets different things out of each one. I would be as happy for something set pre-Flare where the three of them fall in together because hey, it’s the end of the world, as much for something Syndicate/Black Flag era where Desmond is revived/downloaded from the cloud and they’re very glad to have him back.

Dishonored (Video Games)

 Arranged Marriage - Public Consummation

Bondage and Discipline - Honor Bondage

Breeding Kink - We Have to Conceive the Chosen One(s)

Character goes bad to save the world and enjoys it more than expected

First Time - A Patient with B's Clumsy but Enthusiastic Blow Job/Cunnilingus: Would prefer Emily to be the experienced one. 

If I Must Solve A Dozen Geopolitical Problems Just To Have Sex With You Then I Will

Lavish Descriptions Of Historical Clothing

Loyalty Kink

Ritual Sex Magic

Soulmates - they know from a young age that they're soulmates but smth keeps them apart

Emily Kaldwin/The Outsider

General monster boyfriend vibes, the idea of the destined lover, the inevitability of fate vs active and individual choice. I prefer Outsider-Outsider, but am ok with a story that splits between divinity and mortal or sets him as the slightly-off human. Please no naivety/woobie human Outsider.

Xeno - Loving oral on Wet Pinecone Dick (Awapuhi Plant gif)

Xeno - sex shouldn't be physically possible but we're not cowards

Be Not Afraid for I have some excellent dick

Consentacles

Kirin Jindosh/Emily Kaldwin

Coup-tested royalty vs clawed his way up from the gutter genius—the class divide is a huge part of why I like this paring. I like Emily pushing and Jindosh resisting—until he doesn’t—and the idea of the public/private divide as far as behavior.

Masked Ball As An Excuse for Inadvisable Sex: This is just the Fugue Feast, so. 

Pregnancy - Impregnator Wins the Throne

Soulmates - Characters have each other's names on their wrists: The angst! How does Jindosh handle this, growing up. (How do you even prove it’s real?) How does his struggle to get close enough to Emily influence his choices? Is he even interested in nobility? How does Emily handle her side? Just give me class issues and the concept of fate/avoiding fate.

The Witch (2016)

Please don’t make Thomasin’s age/youth a kink. In the period setting, she’s more or less a full adult, dresses like one, etc. Also, I would prefer a benevolent/semi-benevolent Black Philip in the sense of a viable alternative to the religion Thomasin was raised in, and a humanoid over a goat. The theme of willing and educated consent is particularly important to me in this one- Thomasin makes her choices understanding the cost, and is an enthusiastic participant, or is actively convinced. 

Black Philip/Thomasin (The Witch)

Alternate Universe - Formal Matriarchy: How does the witch commune in the forest work? Where do they get their food/supplies? (’noun, that’s too much thought for a horror movie’) How does this turn out in fifty years/sixty? Listen, I just want a functioning magical matriarchy that yells fuck off/fights expansionism. 

Breeding Kink - We Have to Conceive the Chosen One(s) Slash anti-Christ, or a bunch of demons, or whatever.

Lavish Descriptions Of Historical Clothing: Particularly corsets, or the sort of clothing that wealthy women would wear in this time period. She was tempted by a pretty dress, among other things. 

Pregnancy - pregnant with multiples

Sex with Monsters

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)

Please keep this in the era the show is set in! I am a-ok with period homophobia, but am not interested in a coming out type story where the focus of the struggle is triumph over adversary- I like Midge’s career being the focus, or little domestic scenes. Maybe something where they’re in a relationship by the time she realizes that Shy’s gay? Is she able to handle herself better because of this? I am also perfectly happy if Midge and Susie remain closeted to friends/family during the story/their relationship seems like how it is in the show to everyone else, and there’s no angst over that.

Miriam "Midge" Maisel/Susie Myerson (Mrs Maisel)

Butch woman is allowed to remain butch for entirety of story

Canon Got Fucked and They Lived Happily Ever After

Character A thinks they're just character B's rebound but they're not

Lavish Descriptions Of Historical Clothing

Make This Fic Super Excited About Bing Set in New York