#but i mean. i know a little bit about deity work so im also gonna say you don’t necessarily NEED anything to work with them either!

[witch--tips]

you NEVER need to wait “until you have the money” to start practicing witchcraft. you do not need ANY money for witchcraft. you can have all the money in the world and practice witchcraft every single day without spending a single cent on it. everything you need you already have, inside of you and around you as well.

#i mean this literally. incredibly literally. #you can do advanced forms of magic without ANY MONEY. even if you live in a city and cant forage or anything. #you have YOURSELF. and you are a powerful being. #energy work! look at that! you need nothing for it! #you can INCLUDE ANYTHING in your craft #you dont even need to though #witch tips #witchblr #beginner witch #baby witch #closeted witch #closet witch #this is from a secular witchcraft perspective btw ik there are religious practices that require specific tools etc. but i know nothing abou #those because i am a pantheist pagan lmao #but i mean. i know a little bit about deity work so im also gonna say you don’t necessarily NEED anything to work with them either! #unless its a specific tradition youre following #but offerings can be actions instead of physical goods. you can do divination using like.. the clouds. #AND TECH MAGIC! if you can see this right now then you have every form of tech magic available to you right now. #txt

[antirepurp]

i've been thinking abt the gang's ages as of frontiers and especially sonic and how he kind of feels older in frontiers. i think that's been the general course since like colors or something when we got new VAs and writers but imo it kind of culminates in how he acts in frontiers y'know?

like sure part of it is bc sega removed roger from his limiters but also there's this contrast between how sonic acts now and how he acted especially in the adventure era. like adventure/heroes/shth sonic felt much more sincerely carefree and reckless, like a kid freshly turned 15 who didn't really have a scope of what the world could be like and the magnitude of the kind of stuff he was up against. he had had fantastical adventures in the genesis era sure but i think his approach to them bordered on not taking them as the serious occasions they were bc he was so young at the time, and it was just eggman and his robots. then we moved on to ancient deities and eldritch horrors and the tone is permanently altered.

and there's death now, and it personally affects him. maybe he didn't get to know shadow as deeply as rouge and even eggman, but they had an association forced upon them and they wound up fighting against each other and then together as one. maybe it's subtle but i think it does change sonic at the very end of last story, like some of that carefree attitude died that day. maybe his enthusiasm in heroes and shth is compensating for a part of him that he lost on the ARK.

06 has him experience another loss with elise, even if it could be fixed with time travel, but he had grown to really care about her. im not gonna go into the specifics of their relationship bc i have my own interpretations on it that aren't relevant but like that shit has to hurt, even if just a moment. it hammers in that there ARE stakes and they haven't gone anywhere, and just because one person had a miracle survival it doesn't mean sonic is guaranteed a happy ending. it's not that he loses hope or anything, but i'd imagine there is a voice at the back of his head that remembers it and forces him to keep up an appearance harder than before. and it's exactly what he does for the better half of unleashed. because he's a monster now! and maybe that monster thrives with the weight of the past. dark gaia is all about negative energy, and while it's a necessary part of life it can't be an easy burden to bear on the nightly. would sonic have to fight back those feelings harder than before? i doubt he would feel like he deserves to be that way, when he's supposed to keep his friends safe and save the world, because he's the only one who can.

i can't say i remember enough about satbk to fully take it into count here, but by then i think sonic would've been able to rediscover some of the hope that may have eroded. he would be in a better place post-unleashed, having faced parts of him that he had ignored before, and built himself more into the kind of person he'd like to be; free, maybe a little impulsive, but who ultimately follows their own sense of justice. i don't think he would've ever been considered "lawful good" or anything like that, but maybe he was somewhere close to that when he was younger, subscribing to the idea of a cosmic and righteous good and inherent evil. but that had to change when he learned the world wasn't that simple.

im brushing over colors/gens/lost world/forces here a bit, the first three didn't feel of substance to me and if anything forces was a showcase of keeping up the appearances for the others. but frontiers feels like this culmination of everything so far, and we get to observe sonic in isolation for the first time in a while. most other serious events in the past have had him work together with his friends, but they're only sort of present now, and it makes parts of the curtain drop especially as the game goes on. sonic hides and downplays the corruption because he has to be the carefree and courageous guy he's always been, even if it's been a few years and he's growing up and changing as he does. and he's experienced despair time and time again, and it's hurt, so he forces himself to cling to hope with everything he has now, even when his whole body is overcome by corruption and eating him like a ravenous organic beast. he's grown to care for the people around him much more than he maybe used to, to cherish life as long as it lasts, but it's hard to be the same bright-eyed hero everyone knows you as when you've seen what death looks like. he wants it to go away but it'll always remain, and colors the curtains he puts up so his brother and sister and rival don't have to worry about him.

i keep thinking about the opening lines of sonic adventure and ryan drummond's voice saying goofy 90s flavored lines, and i keep thinking about roger craig smith delivering sonic's lines in frontiers in a tone subtly deeper and different from his previous performances

#soda offers you a can #lore drabbles #listen. maybe frontiers isn't the pinnacle of sonic gaming sure i wouldn't know bc i only like bad games #but i think this game is growing very important to me in multiple ways #sonic #long post #dear god i did not expect this to be such a lengthy drabble

[imthediamondintherough]

Because im in a somewhat ok mood I thought I'd start with design lore and character details. I said I'd inform you @0lympian-c0uncil

So. A tip: I'm a bit of a clothes/fashion fanatic. I obsess over small details a lot. This is gonna be very evident.

Also I CAN'T DRAW. So there is no art for any of my characters.

Currently.

Moving on.

Right!

The new name for the series is now

Lore Chthonic Order

(Or LCO in abbreviation)

yeah you waited a long time and the title isn't even that good. hilarious right?

I took a lot of inspiration from much anime and existing series. (You know as authors do) so designs are heavily influence by anime characters and such.

I also said there would be other deites in this... series actually I haven't decided if this is a series or anthology (still working out that detail.)

I can't give all the characters information out (like the second protagonist) because that would be spoilery. But I got to give you guys something to make up for the delay in content right?

So let's get to infodumping!

Demeter and Persephone purposely have similar designs in terms of clothing choices. But that is when they are together and only when they are together.

Demeter's character design (as in physical appearance) is inspired by the character design for Type Moon's FATE/ Grand Order's goddess Parvati. At least when she's in her domain and not in typical "civilian wear" when she is around mortals. ...More on that later.

Typically her colors are various greens, whites, browns, and yellows because I like the idea that Demeter gives off a summer vibe (probably some unintended symbolism and hidden messages there. I'll let you work that out) so alot of her clothes are very summery and late spring based.

In LO, Demeter's clothes usually look very business like. Very formal (and kinda boring) BUT I like that choice in clothing it suits her business oriented mindset. (I also like business suits and think women look great in them.) But this is Demeter so I'll make a point to incorporate certain aspects fit for Demeter and what she stands for.

So lots of plant motifs and maybe summer fruit images on her more casual clothes and dresses. But I also want to reference the thing she's iconic for: Persephone. True the myths around Perse don't have the best light and everyone likes making it so it's a "okay" thing that happened (and depending on the version you prefer it kinda isn't...)but whatever! not relevant.

I want to hint at or allude to Persephone the daughter who (probably) ran away and the daughter she loves. In my story Persephone is only seen as her role as queen of the underworld (I think that's justified since the focus IS on all the underworld related deities...) So that means darker colors and delicate...ish appearing flowers (not the common roses. unless you mean "black" varieties and the thorns)

Demeter wants her daughter to be around her (but she's in the underworld for much of the beginning of the story so I think placing little references to her is a good idea.) Demeter herself will not wear too many dark colors and flowers are usually limited to reference her daughter Persephone. No Persephone isn't a delicate flower and in LCO Demeter recognizes this and accepts it. But she also still wishes she could keep Persephone by her side always. Hinting to her in her clothes as a sort of reminder is a good way to emphasize that.

And I like clothes. Like I really like writing about them so brace yourself.

Back to my first point Demeter's physical description design is based on Fate Grand Order's Indian goddess Parvati.

Incidentally Parvati is a mother like figure and in this story Demeter ends up a mother like figure to multiple people so is anyone surprised?

As for normal civilian wear-- well it's just what she wears when she is around a large number of mortals. Usually this is a dress or suit with floral details (or reminders of Persephone). And I think having suits have lots of references to Persephone fits because it's like... Persephone means business in both aspects of her role. And Demeter wants to follow that in her own way so while she can't ask Persephone to wear suits (though she's positive her daughter would look wonderful in them) she wears them herself as a way of hinting how proud she is that Persephone is her own person.

When Persephone is around and not stopping by to drop off a gift she wears clothes similar to her mother in terms of style and colors. Mostly to reference where she currently is. But being the goddess of spring she wears lots more flowers. As per request of Demeter to feel like the old days they are normally large flowers or flowers that would require a lot of... Sun....

Although on occasion, Persephone pops up randomly (which is how we have warm days in winter) usually just to say hi or let one of her children speak to their grandmother or she's doing a favor for another goddess then she still wears dark colors with minor or or more subtle hints to flowers.

#demeter fic #demeter

[asscrackcreed]

I don't know if you've already done this but what are your headcanons about our main assassins as monsters/mystical creatures and how they would become said creatures ?

Altaïr - genie - given that he has the apple of eden in canon i think being a genie makes sense and i don’t mean the aladdin type i mean more like a spirit in its mesopotamian origins - just born like that

since altaïr is also strongly associated with wisdom he could be a griffin or a sphinx

ezio - vampire - maybe it’s cuz he’s italian but major vampire vibes, i feel like vampires would have killed the men in his family and then a vampire bit him but for whatever reason he didn’t die he only ended up turning into a vampire OR his dad was a vampire so ezio turned out to be one too and when they all died he ended up alone as a (half?) vampire

the kenways - werewolves - it just makes so much sense as they’re all aggressive and brutal in their fighting alike to werewolves, maybe when edward was travelling he got bit by a werewolf or something and now it’s a hereditary thing

if not werewolves i’d imagine their some sort of scaly/lizard creature like a sea serpent for edward, basilisk for haytham, connor im not sure tbh i can’t answer why or how they turned into one of those that’s why i’m sticking to werewolves

arno - this is really hard actually i think because some of the ones i would choose are just women (i was gonna say harpy) so i’ll have to say a gorgon - i think the idea that he’s practically lost all his close in his life gorgon can be fitting since he gets to ‘permanently’ keep them close to him and he won’t lose them, probably got cursed by a god like medusa (i think in the original story she was born a gorgon tho)

jacob and evie - whenever i think of them and myths i think of apollo and artemis the personalities just fit and they’re twins but since you said creatures maybe griffins? or centaurs like chiron who are very smart i just get the feeling they’d be the wise creatures so i’m gonna say griffin cuz they’re fast and quick with their kills - born that way

bayek - i mean this guy fought gods so in myths he’d be like a warrior like hercules or something but as a creature maybe a phoenix? or specifically Bennu, the bird of fire said to be one of Ra’s families, both phoenix and Bennu have the rebirth characteristics and i think fire is just the best element for bayek (hence why i hc him as Hephaestus in a greek god au)

kassandra - well given she canonically fights mythological creatures and deities it makes things a little harder, maybe typhon, the last child of Gaia and the ‘father of all monsters’, he’s basically like the strongest creature, otherwise minotaur? though i swear she does kill one, i just think something angry and aggressive suits her since rage is a large part of her character - born that way

oh my god mass could literally be a valkyrie it’s norse mythology but it literally works so well wtf

eivor - well if they’re not odin then probably fenrir, i think big and powerful are key factors of eivor so i can’t see eivor as anything else but somehow related to the gods

#😭this was so hard wtf #i love these type of asks tho #assassin's creed #ac #ask #assassins creed imagines #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed imagines #ac imagines #ac imagine #lys-judges-you

[maeshmallo]

so i folded and binge-read lore olympus

im just gonna talk about it cause im bored and there’s stuff i wanna discuss about it. i’ve always been in love with the hades x persephone story (the first version i read was consensual so that’s the one that resonates with me the most) 

im gonna start with the good stuff

- i love the animation! the colours are so fun and cool and i like how captivating they are, and the pink of persephone and blue of hades works well together

- i like that the time frame of olympus and the underworld is expedited compared to the modern world, that’s really neat

- the comedic timing is spot on, both the dialogue and animation can be so great and make me laugh to tears

- hades and persphone’s moments can be so tender and sweet, one scene between them that just sticks with me is when they are cooking together, or the first time she asked the names of his dogs and he lit up. they are so soft for each other and it makes my heart so so warm ;-; and i like their banter too

- i like hermes, and artemis, and eros, and basically everybody who’s become a friend in this series, they’re great (ares is an honourable mention bc he’s funny with amazing character design imo)

- the fact that therapy is a thing here??? pls they all need it omg 

- the exploration of cycles in different extremes (the cycle of fertility goddesses being used for power, having shitty people around you in turn making you shitty to those you love, the fear of becoming one’s parents, etc)

- i like that none of the characters are “good” or “bad”. as it goes with deities, they are as morally grey as you can get especially in regard to mortals. (with the exception of apollo. i hate his character.)

- i appreciate the discussion of boundaries between hades and persephone, letting fluffy moments just be fluffy and sweet

- their relationship in general has very sweet moments and warms my heart a lot of times

- honourable mentions: baby hades being very worrisome for such a small boy, hades with his stars, hades with his crowns and earrings, hades with his little glasses, hades’ scars. hades. 💕 

all in all, it’s a very fun read with many intriguing and cool themes that I love and i’m excited to see how it is concluded

now for critiques 

- why did persephone have to be 19/20??? not 119, not 190, that young compared to everyone around her??? i mean even though on our (mortal) terms, she is legal and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. but the issue within most age gap relationships is not primarily the difference in years itself, but the difference in mindset and stages of life (a relationship between a 14 and 18 year old is vastly different from a relationship between a 30 and 34 year old). there doesnt seem to be a point to make her so young and then pair her with a being literally older than death itself, ya know? but that’s just me 

- not necesarrily the characters, but more so the reactions to them. why is it that hades, modeled to be a capitalist business owner that keeps the dead souls as slaves and does things that are so cruel (i.e tear out some kids eye for a photograph or threaten an employee for asking for ID) is seen as a precious baby that can do no wrong?? now please understand that I love his character, I adore him!!! but he is no baby, and there is nothing stranger than seeing a morally grey character or straight up villain (who doesnt love a good villain every now and again amirite) be coddled and have excuses made for them while their female counterparts are villainized for the same or lesser offenses, which brings me to my next point

- minthe. she is no saint, and i dont like her all that much. she was petty and catty, and an awful and cruel partner towards hades. however, she is complex in that we see her internal monologue and can see that most of these things come from a place of insecurity and deep rooted issues with herself. not to excuse her behaviour because it is all very immature and lame, but i hope to see an arc from her that allows growth and letting go of being forced to see herself as nothing more than a trashy nymph. and learning to apologize properly

- also why was it funny when hecate smacked him across the face like three times but a crime when minthe hit him upside the head. my point is both were bad, but one gets forgotten and forgiven. 

- man why is persephone drawn so mf tiny? i mean it’s cool to be short, but in some frames she’s legit at his waist which is a bit odd since you’re kind of already toeing the line of what is appropriate and what isn’t in their relationship (employer/employee relationship, extreme age difference, somewhat childish nature). i cant lie this feels nitpicky but it’s just so jarring everytime i see it combined with everything else, ya know??

- i dont know if the apollo incident was necessary. i feel the story would have been the same if had just been a pushy jerk trying to marry persephone because she is a fertility goddess for his own advantage. it was just an awful thing that provides very little substance to the plot and made me struggle to read it.

- im still a bit lost on where we are with what’s going on with persephone. when she goes into her “death bringer” state, why does it seem like she’s been possessed instead of it being embraced as who she is? i’d like to see her gain more control of these powers and maybe trained properly by someone so that the next time they are used, they are used with intent and purpose.

- lastly, why is persephone’s growth being stifled? we see her make mistakes, and fall short in certain areas, but i would also like to see her excercise agency and fix things for herself. we only got to see a glimpse of that, but i want more so that she can figure out for herself what and who exactly she is and what she wants without having to think about others and what they need from her. if she is to become the queen of the underworld we want her to be, she doesn’t need to be coddled all the time.

if there is anything more to be added to the conversation, pls feel free too!! i like conversation and this is an interesting topic!

#lore olympus #like literally no hate at all but i like being critical of the media i consume #lore olympus critical #lore olympus positive

[cheseyre]

good news, sluts! my brain's no longer being completely stupid (only mostly), i've seen the new asides and...have some thought-y thot thoughts:

*deep inhale*

Okay, first things first: this art style is soooo fucking cUTE and I'm a jealous, squealing bitch. Anyone who knows who the artist is, could you link me to them, stat? I think Thomas mentioned them at the beginning of the ep, but nYeh, brain hurt, doesn't wanna do wooork-

Okay, I'll admit, I was a little...apprehensive when I first saw the thumbnail and title. Part of it's just me being a bitter Remus Stan, but also...okay, deep breaths, controversial opinion time, get ready:

I don't ship Prinxiety.

Like, at all. 

I can see the appeal, and these dorks were so very, VERY cute in this particular ep, but I was honestly turned off by the ship long ago due to how overwhelmingly popular it is and how some fans characterize these two and treat this relationship as if it's the only valid one, y'know, the works—slight tangent, but that's also why I don't ship Logicality or Remile. I honestly vibe much better with ships like Roceit or Analogical, y'know?

Cutting in for another brief tangent: I'm surprisingly okay with Demus/Dukeceit/Receit/Trashnoodle/Whatever-Their-Ship-Name-Is-Oh-God-Why-Do-They-Have-So-Many-Fucking-Names; maybe it's cause they haven't actually interacted in canon and the fan content gives me such good Gay Disney Villain content, idk man im weird—).

Still, their interactions were both hilarious and sweet and like I said, I see the appeal, it's just not my cup of tea. y'all Prinxiety fans got fucking FED and I'm happy for you nerds. Enjoy ze happy boys!

I guess another factor in my...low-key hesitance when I first saw what the ep was about is that...okay, get ready, another controversial opinion, le gasp: well, I'm not a big Virgil fan. In fact, at times, he swaps places with Patton as my least favorite sides—especially with some of his recent behavior in eps like DWIT (the "prohibit your breathing comment" really triggered me, for example). Sometimes, his attitude, especially around other sides like Roman or Janus, reminds me a little too much of my sister, who I don't have...a very good relationship with. Add to that how the more...intense side of the fandom has a disturbing tendency to turn him into the 'uwu precious woobie emo baby who can do no wrong' while unnecessarily villainizing other CERTAIN sides in the process, and...I think you all see where I'm going with this little rant 😅

However, upon actually watching the ep, he wasn't...that bad? I don't think? I enjoyed watching him be a flustered, disaster-y mess and genuinely excited at the end, his interactions with Roman were nice enough, and him literally pushing Thomas to make a move with Nico despite his obvious panic attack was a nice moment of genuine character development. I like seeing that, that's the good shit right there. And him being all flustered and shit, and smiling so much at the end of the vid was just...well, adorable. This man has no fucking right to be this cute, my god

alsoooo 

pURPLE EYESHADOW

PURPLE EYESHADOW HE LOOKS?? SO GOOD?? WTF?? SLAY EMO, SLAAAAAAAY FUCK, DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO CHANGE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME NOW?

alsoooo 

hAPPY ROMAN

YESSSSS~ MAH BOI MAH SON MAH DUMB BITCH HIMBO PRINCE MAH EXTRA MESSY CINNAMON ROLL

ITS  BEEN SO  LONG

AND HIS LITTLE HEART EYES THROUGHOUT THE VID, OH MY GOD-

IMMA JUST IGNORE THAT "ADDING [MISTAKE] TO THE LIST" COMMENT I AM LOOKING AWAY I DO NOT SEE IT LALALALALA

THOMATHY, SIR, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT MAKING THESE TWO GAY IDIOTS SO BAEBY

Okay, but Virgil not realizing that "cyberstalking in real life" is literally just stalking is both a big ass mood and further proof that, yes, Logan is indeed the only one holding the braincell out of this disaster of a lot. God help them all if he ducks out in the next ep.

👀

And Thomas x Trash Can is my new OTP.  I dub thee ✨ "Trashmas" ✨

we sTAN TRASHMAS

Wait, does that mean Remus actually WAS in the ep? Cause, y'know, trash man?

hmmm

👀 👀 

Okay, okay. 

With how much Virgil and Roman were going off about Thomas constantly lying, I was (understandably) a tad bit disappointed my snek son didn't even make a fucking cameo, but y'know what? In hindsight, I'm okay with this it's fineee~

He was just off playing with shadow puppets and stealing money from us desperate, content-starved peasants with his sheer extra-ness and, honestly? Gotta respect the hustle. 

Get that precious, precious coin, dapper snake! Wring us poor losers dryyyy!

*evil snek laugh*

Also, this is a breather ep and adding Janus in probably would've caused unnecessary drama with the Roceit breakup and the constant antagonism between Virgil and him. It probably would've distracted from the point of the ep (flirting with social anxiety, exactly what it says in the tin)—much like it wasn't really Virgil or Remus's place to show up during POF. Does that make sense? I think it makes sense. Sorry, brain going brr-

Still, I can't believe the "Fuck Janus Sanders" Club is actually canon now 😂

God, first Patton in a skirt and now this. 

Thomas Sanders, you delight in fucking feEDING this gremlin nest of a fanbase, don’t you? You RELISH our screams of joy and pain and suffering, dON’T YOU?

What's next, actual canonical Janus and Remus interaction? Patton saying the fuck word? The Dragon Witch comes back? Janus's bowler hat gains sentience and takes over the world, Doris-style? What do you have planned, Thomas? Joan? WHAT ART THOU PLANNING, I MUST KNOW YOU HEATHENS YOU FIENDS-

And Virgil's little "would it be fair to him" comment, tho.

👀

Like, I get in the context of the ep, he was likely talking about Nico and how it wouldn’t be good for a potential relationship with Tomas to be founded on lies, but still...my anxceit heart aches, man. 

Gimme that sweet, sweet angst with a side of mutual regret and possible future reconciliation and maybe something more wink wink nudge nudge on top, pls

...and fries.

Honestly, tho, that entire bathroom monologue was fucking beautiful, man. And relatable, too—i can't tell you how many times I've talked to myself in public restrooms because I just didn't know how to get the words I wanted to say out. It's...kind of embarrassing, tbh

Speaking of embarrassing, uh, crying stall guy.

Just...

Crying Stall Guy

Like, I was expecting someone to come out the bathroom stall after Thomas stopped talking, but...I honestly wasn't expecting that. God, that whole scene was so cringe worthy and fucking hilarious

Honestly, Thomas in the ep in general was a huge ass mOOD and we collective gay/bi disasters ALL related with him, and if you say you don't, you're either lying to yourself or a demon. 

There is no in between 

sorry I don't make the rules

Like, I get this series is literally a gay disaster talking to himself for thirty minutes or longer, but like- EMPHASIS on the 'disaster' part 😂

Like...Thomas, you're lucky you're such a goddamn bean, because GOD, I cringing so hard when he first started talking to Nico

Although, I too have apologized profusely for genuine mistakes and am a flustered bi mess around my crush sooo

😅

And god, Roman's "thirty = old man" jokes made me feel old...and I literally just turned twenty, like, come on, man!

Maybe that's because I was literally watching this ep after finishing my ACT and had been sitting with a bunch of high schoolers, with their tiny fucking desks and tiny fucking water fountains smeh

*clears throat*

Anyways, uh, we STAN Nico Pintrovert Florés in this house

Like

He gives me such big Carlos from WTNV vibes for some reason and this makes me sooo happy

and YESS, he's a WRITER

And he's??? So sweet?? A pure bean?? Just sits on his laptop at the mall food court all day, like a god-fucking iCON?? A Nightmare Before Christmas fan?? weARS GLASSES??

my hEART

*cries*

The fandom seems torn between "Nicomas" and "Karrot Kings" as a ship name atm—personally speaking, I'm casting my vote for the latter

*crosses fingers* please dont be another janus x remus multiple ship name issue guys, please please please I can't keep track of them all-

*clears throat*

On that note, I'm guess I'm gonna go try and whoo over my crush with carrots now. If THIS disaster can do it and make it actually fucking work, god damnit, so cAN I

Meanwhile, in hell, my brain's just screaming "CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST-"

God, I hope Nico isn't just a one-shot character, he's too pure and Thomas and him are adorable gay Disney fans and I stan

Oh, I wonder how the other sides'll react to him.

Wait.

Oh god.

Oh god.

This ep just unleashed a new fresh hell of potential Nico x Sides ships, hasn't it?

Welp, time to prepare for ze incoming flood of fanfics, I guess. I'll get my umbrella and rain boots.

That last shot of Virgil during the endcard was so fucking ominous oh my god mom im scared can you come pick me up-

Goddammit, Thomas and Joan, I'm NOT fucking ready to be traumatized again, fUCK

I wish I wasn't a broke ass university student so I could contribute to Thomas's gloriously extra Patreon—both so I can support my favorite content creators who make this amazing blessed content and also, to join my boi Janus in fucking  destroying society by giving money to the people who actually deserve it, fuck YOU GOVERNMENT-

Okay. 

Okay. 

New headcanon time as to why Patton, Remus, and Logan weren't in the ep: they were helping Jan film that Patreon promotional video. 

Like

Remus directed it, Logan helped with the lighting and script, and Patton was just there as the cheerleader. 

The reason Janus made a dog with shadow puppets wasn't just to flaunt his deity status and prove how he is truly above us mere wretched mortals 

despite that being the absolute truth and we all know it, don't lie to yourselves

No, it was really him trying to do something cute and silly for Patton, because Moceit rights, daMMIT

*inhales*

noww 

guys, gals, and nonbinary pals

it’s time forr

the most wonderful time of the yearrr

WAITING FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

Step right up, folks! Hear ye, hear ye, my prediction for the next episode: Prinxiety v. Moceit! With special guest stars: Karrot Kings vibing in adorable gay and Intrulogical, bitter at being excluded aGAIN

Who will win? Who will lose? 

here’s a hint: we all will because in this sick twisted game they are no winners only losers-

Place your bets, folks! ✨

Haha im not readyyy~

tl;dr

this episode has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and ended my suffering—an adorable calm before the... angsty fucking shitstorm that’s coming far too soon. Prinxiety stans, enjoy your food. Place an 'F' in the chat for me and my fellow grieving Remus stans. Trashmas is the true OTP, but Karrot Kings is cute too I guess. I've only had Nico Florés for 24 minutes, but if anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. Purple eyeshadow Virgil makes me question my sexuality aGAIN, and happy gay disney prince rights y'all. Say a big ole 'fuck you' to capitalism by giving your local dapper snake moneys. Concussion makes brain go brr and imma go buy some carrots and be gay now.

psst hey @quarantinevibes2020​ you wanna join me in being disaster-y? i’ll bring my best gay stare and you bring the wine

Until next time, my lovelies! ~ Ches 🖤

#sanders asides #ts spoilers #flirting with social anxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #c!thomas #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #nico flores #karrot kings #nicomas #prinxiety #moceit #virgil negativity #its not like a major thing #i just have mixed feelings on him is all #thomas x trash can #trashmas #i will make that a crackship guys #you can't stop me #in other news #i'm forfeiting all my worldly possessions to our local cryptic dapper snek #and buying carrots #because that's life sometimes #please work tumblr #i know you hate me #but please #shut up ches

[lordseochangbin]

Do you think you could write a rich kid!reader x pool cleaner hyunjin smut?? I just thought of the idea and my legs immediately felt like jelly dndkddkdk

not the only thing that’s wet- hhj

a/n: so this came out longer than expected sksk. also i wanted to add some humor(not even sure if it’s funny) but just know anything said abt the members is fictional lmfaoo. hope you enjoy !

——

“i swear to god.. i just need some fucking hot ass man to take my virginity! like how hard is it?? im rich, im sexy, im pretty?? now how hard is it to find a guy?!” you ranted out to your friends ruby and lea.

the two girls watched you pace around the room, “y/n, how about we make a list?!” lea suggested.

you turned around in excitement, “a list?! hmm throw out some names”

lea took out her phone, the three of you left to think about some of the finest men at your school.

“bang chan” lea threw out.

“oh my god no! he’s too much, i heard he fucked this girl till she cummed 7 times” ruby said

“7 TIMES?!” you and lea exclaimed. fuck, bang chan. you could only imagine dating him, but maybe not for a first time.

“ok... kim seungmin?” lea threw out.

“you mean small dick?” ruby retorted.

“how do you know that?” you asked ruby, actually curious. you received quite the obvious laugh in response, as if ruby was taken way back to when she was once in love with one of the cutest boys in the academy.

you pushed your custom made louie vuitton purse to the side, making room to sit down and contemplate about any other guy at your school.

“how about han jisung??” lea suggested once more.

ruby covered her mouth in shock, “oh no no no, that guy is too kind to just fuck around. plus i called dibs on him awhile ago”

you and lea kept eye contact, dropping your head in disappointment as another guy was crossed off the list.

“ruby.. who do you think would best suit for me?”

ruby looked up to the roof, her mind elsewhere as it always seemed to be. you loved ruby and lea, growing up with the two girls being honestly the biggest blessing you could ask for. but ruby was of a different character. one day she’d talk about the ingredients in a mcnugget and the next she’d be rambling about how pink is a sexy color for lingerie. lea and you seemed to be the closest however, she was always there for you no matter what and you loved her more than anything.

“i say.. lets go online and find some random stranger to set you up with. boom. we’ll pay him and just hope and pray that he’s some hot 18 y/o” ruby replied, putting her hands together to “pray” to the lord(seo changbin)

“ruby...” lea pushed her a little so she could snap out of her position, “that’s a terrible idea” the three of you bursted into laughter

when the laughing died down, you got up from your seat shrugging your shoulders as your walked out to your clear glass windows. “but guys, i really don’t know. should i just wait? i am ‘daddys rich little angel’ anyways” you replied sarcastically.

lea rolled her eyes, grabbing your ray banz glasses and throwing them on you. “cheer up okay? we’re gonna make this happen i swear”

ruby popped up on your right, grabbing your hand and petting it. “don’t worry, god gave us one life, and we should live it with faith. faith that we will live to see a wet pen-”

“RUBY-” lea interrupted.

“it’s alright guys” you patted both of their shoulders, “it’s not like some attractive guy is just gonna show up out of nowhere”

you smiled at the two girls who did an amazing job of cheering you up before opening the glass doors to the patio of your mansion home. taking a few steps outside, you noticed a white truck pull into the driveway. your dad waiting by the pool as a boy wearing simply a white tee, blue ripped jeans, and sport shoes came out.

“holy shit” lea cursed under her breath

all three of your jaws dropped as the boy walked towards your father, a hand brushing through his luscious black hair as the wind passed by him with perfect timing.

you lowered down your expensive glasses to get a better look of him, “now who may this fine fellow be”

ruby smirked, “i bet his weewee is the size of-”

“ruby, what is up with you and dicks today i swear to god” lea questioned, all attention that was once on the pretty boy now concerned for your friend

“im sorryyy” ruby sarcastically replied, “i just know a good one when i see one” she said, sending a wink your way.

“who is he?” lea asked as you watched your dad point at the pool

“how much you wanna bet he’s some rich guys son who’s complimenting his pool right now?” ruby asked

“none.. look at his hands. cleaning supplies” you replied.

“y/n!! that fine ass man... he’s your pool cleaner” lea called out to your attention.

————

your dad knocked on the door before welcoming himself in. “hey girls, im off to a meeting. do you need money for lunch?”

“no that’s alright, they were just leaving” you replied

“we were?” ruby replied. you turned around to give ruby the death stare before ruby could continue, “oh yes!! we are QUITE busy mr.y/l/n!”

“i see...” you father responded, “ well y/n if you’re home alone i just want to let you know that there’s a pool cleaner outside working. im off”

your dad closed the door before you could drop the blanket you covered yourself with. “that was close” lea responded from behind you as you threw on a robe to cover up your swimming suit.

“so close.. now should i try this out?”

“go for it, we’re upstairs if you need us” lea said, joining ruby on your bed and turning on the tv. you took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to talk to the boy and eventually finding yourself in front of him speechless.

“hey... were you planning on going in the pool?” he asked, puppy eyes almost shining under the summer sun as he looked at you apologetically, “im cleaning it right now but you can dip your feet at the least” he suggested.

you found yourself awestruck at how handsome he was.. his arms, his jet black hair, his perfect jawline, and the way his white tee stuck to his washboard abs.

“yeah.. sure” you managed to let out in a shaky voice.

the boy continued with his business despite your arrival, making your frustrated due to lack of discussion. minutes seemed to pass quickly and it made you impatient.

“so what do you find attractive in a girl?” you asked, turning to the boy

he rose his eyebrows at the sudden interrogation. “a girl.. hmm. maybe a girl who’s a tease? likes to flirt? sexy?” he laughed as he threw a towel over his shoulder

“hmm..” you hummed to yourself, kicking your feet in the water. “and what’s your name?”

“my name? i think i told your dad already, it’s hyunjin”

from there, your two friends were able to finish two films, curious about your whereabouts but scared to check outside knowing your intentions. but that wasn’t the real reason you two took so long, once the conversation started to speed up you’d learned that hyunjin was a college student trying to make extra cash to pay off his tuition by cleaning pools. he sat down as well, his jeans rolled up so his feet were kicking beside yours.

“so hyunjin... like you said. you like girls that are attractive, sexy, and flirty?” you asked

“why? you think you have all three of those? maybe you hit attractive and sexy at the least” he replied, earning a splash of water to his face.

“stop! your gonna get my hair wet” he replied, laughed at your sudden lash of anger

“im sure your hair isn’t the only thing that’s wet” you replied, placing a hand on his knee. the sudden affection made his plush lips part, a perfect situation for you to jump on his lap. and that’s exactly what you did

“y/n” he moaned as your lips clashed together with his. your legs found themselves wrapped around his, your position slowly making your robe tie loosen and revealing a pretty red swimsuit inside.

“do you find me attractive now?” you whispered into his ear as you tugged onto his hair, exposing the pretty surface of his neck to place kisses on

“so fucking sexy y/n.. please” he muttered as you left marks on his flawless skin

his hands wrapped themselves around your waist before you two could slip into the pool.

“shit- y/n im so sorry” he said as carried you to the seated area of the pool before combing his wet locks with his fingers

“its okay” you gasped in relief, catching your breath as you sat on his lap again.

hyunjin smirked as you slowly removed the robe, making him pull off his shirt to pull you closer

“now look at us babygirl, a pretty wet mess” he said, pushing a piece of stranded hair to the side before places kisses down your neck. he left marks from your jaw to your chest, throwing the swimsuit off as his fingers toyed with each nipple. your hands tugged at his wet jeans as he slowly pulled them off, leaving you both with nothing- just as you had planned.

you wrapped your hands around hyunjins neck, rolling your hips against his member as sinful moans left his lips. soon you felt his member stretch passed your wet folds making you dig your nails into his pure skin

“y/n... we just met today and you’re making me-”

you bit his bottom lip making him whimper. the friction was hard to handle even when you were underwater, the water made it easy for hyunjin to pull in and out of your pussy at rapid pace.

god, was this amazing. especially considering it was your first time and you needed it to be as easy as it could get. you blessed whatever deity up there for making such a handsome man like hyunjin and for making him a pool cleaner out of all things, sex in your pool was so much more hotter (ironically) than it seemed.

and at last, when you were ready to release you let you let go of hyunjins lips. “this feeling...” you whispered, “hyunjin i think im gonna cum” hyunjin grabbed your waists with a tight grip, making you bounce up and down on his member at an unbelievably fast pace.

“let’s cum together baby” he said, pushing you into a deep kiss

and before you knew it you were coming inside him, your first experience not ending just there as he reached his high slowly after

“hyunjin”you panted, grabbing your robe from behind him.

“thank you” you continued, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“you planned this all along huh? to prove you were sexy, i love it” hyunjin replied, grabbing your robe and throwing it somewhere far away.

your ass rested on his cock as he felt your legs wrap tighter around him “if you’re really thankful, then let’s just stay like this?” he asked

“deal” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder as you feel asleep in the lukewarm water.

#wow this was longer than expected #this concept omg #shitty ending oops #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #stray kids hyunjin smut #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids smut #skz smut #hwanghyunjin #skz imagines #stray kids suggestive #skz suggestive #stray kids imagines

[georgethegarbageman]

Im just starting out with the whole witch thing and I was wondering if you have any advice of where to start and what kind of things I should be doing

Hey! I just started practicing like two months ago, so I'm just gonna tell you advice that I'd give me from two months ago ^^

1. Before we start doing anything, I wanna preface with 1a. You can be any gender and call yourself a witch. Some people say that male witches should be called wizards or warlocks, but when you translate warlock from old English, it means something closer to a traitor or an oath breaker, which can be offensive to some of us. Yeah, some of us do call ourselves warlocks but that's up to them to decide, not anyone else. As for wizard, I mean technically???? I don't particularly like the sound of calling myself a wizard, but some men/enbys do and that's fine. And 1b. Witchcraft is NOT a religion, it is a PRACTICE! Therefore, you can be any religion and be a witch. You can be Christian and be a witch, you can be Hindu and be a witch, you can be a secular witch if you want. It just depends on the particular path you choose to go on.

2. A lot of experienced witches will say that deity work is not for the baby/beginner witch, this is somewhat true and somewhat false. My main deity, Eros, Greek god of Love/desire, started showing me signs two days into my practice, and although my case is a little different than other beginner witches who have deities, I don't regret accepting his offer. In my experience, he's been quite chill with me and understands that I don't quite fully know how things work yet. I think, if you do wanna start working with deities earlier in your practice, try to start with someone a bit more chill and understanding. If you're working with the Greek pantheon, I can give you my recommendations, but for other pantheons I can't say anything about bc I've only worked with the Greek gods. And if/when you do start working with them, please please please please please RESEARCH and ASK A PENDULUM OR TAROT CARDS IF THE ENTITY YOU ARE TALKING TO IS WHO THEY SAY THEY ARE!! Sometimes, you think a particular deity is reaching out to you because you've been seeing signs that relate to their symbolism, but, other things can disguise themselves as deities or spirits and trick you into something you don't want to do, so please be careful. I admit that before accepting Eros' offer, I didn't really do any of this and that is EXTREMELY dangerous and I got very lucky that it was actually him and I didn't put myself in danger. I feel like it's even more important fight now because of the mercury retrograde since the break down of communication seems to be a common theme in people who have talked about their feelings during this retrograde.

3. To start with, I'd recommend learning how to protect and cleanse yourself, moon phases, colour magick, candle magick if you're in a place where you can burn candles, and if you're in the broom closet (aka no one knows you're a witch), kitchen witchcraft is a really good way to stay stealth because it's literally just cooking with intentions, so if anyone asks, you can just say you really like cooking and baking! Crystals are also a good place to start if you wanna work with them

4. Don't let anyone tell you your practice is inferior to theirs for any reason. Some of us are born into it and some of us choose to start practicing later in life, all paths are valid and no one should make you feel inferior for choosing the path you feel is right for you. That being said, some people are just genuinely concerned that you're doing something dangerous and they wanna help you, so please listen to them and disregard the people with a superiority complex.

5. The fae. If you're in the witchcraft community on Tik Tok, there's a lot of people talking about how the fae are dangerous and you shouldn't accept their gifts, I don't work with the fae so I don't know anything about that, but if you do end up working with them, please be careful and do your research because I've heard that they can be easily offended and can really mess your life up if you're not careful.

That's all I can think of for now, if you have specific questions, DM me and I'll be happy to answer them to the best of my ability. Otherwise, Google is your best friend.

Blessed be ^^

#ask #male witch #baby witch #witchcraft #witch #witchblr #begginer witch #trans witch #queer witch #theglamorousscarecrow

[smile4imagines]

Hewwo! May I request HCs for Habit, Kamal and Questionette with a SO who just, really loves them cryptids and is an amateur cryptid hunter? The type to go running into the woods to find their boy, the Mothman. Thank you! You are doing (deity of choice)'s work here and I adore thine writing UwU

i LOVE cryptics!!! omg what if we went hunting 4 cryptids together 😏👀 and we kissed 😳💋 and held hands 😳😳😊 haha jk….. unless? (also i love how u picked 2 of the most cryptic characters in the game to go hunting for cryptics with) 

Boris Habit, Kamal Bora, and Questionette going cryptic hunting with their s/o! 

Boris Habit 

at first, he’s a bit skeptical, since he doesn’t exactly know what a cryptid is. “kriptid? krip-did?? what did krip do???” 

after a bit of explaining, he gets pretty excited about it! he totally loves weird things, and wants to find them and become their friend :-)

when you guys go running off into the woods, expect him to hold your hand and run in front of you to protect you every time he hears even the smallest rustle of leaves. its dark! and these cryptics can be scary! he doesn’t want anything to hurt you!! 

after you convince him that you’re prepared for anything, he’ll calm down a bit. he won’t let go of your hand though. 

makes you go or stay home if its really late (like 4 or 5 am) since hes too tired to be running around so late, and he cares a lot about your health so no all nighters in the woods for you! 

heck, even if he doesn’t get to make friends with the big scary monsters, he’s just happy that you’re happy. 

all in all, he’s just as excited about finding mothman or bigfoot as you are! in fact, he’ll even take you all around the world to where all of the best crytpics were found, just to see the smile on your face 

you may or may not spend months trying to find an unnamed cryptic that’s been spotted around your town, only to find out that it’s just habit, who sometimes likes to tend to the local gardens in the dead of the night

Kamal Bora 

when you bring up cryptics, he automatically says no. and don’t even TRY to get him to leave his house after 11. 

im sorry to tell you this, but Kamal isn’t exactly the best person to go cryptic hunting with. he worked for a big scary cryptic long enough, and he doesn’t ever wanna be face to face with something even remotely weird or creepy ever again (plus he’s had a huge fear of the Jersey Devil since he was like. 6.) 

probably accidentally gets really mad at you if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he even breaks out the sarcasm! don’t be too upset though, he’s just a little grumpy. let the man sleep!

he only goes out to the woods to hunt for them with you every once in awhile, but not because he wants to! he’s just making sure you’re safe!

don’t expect him to stay for too long though, the second he sees even the slightest hint of another living being hes gonna book it to the car and not move until you take him home and cuddle

on another note, he does like to help you research! he’ll never try to actively find anything, but that doesn’t mean he won’t look into it. tell him the cryptic you’re currently looking for and give him 2 days, and he’ll have a whole paper written up about how to catch it, where you might find it, what to be careful of, and what you’ll need to bring

he may not go with you to find them, but that doesn’t mean he won’t help! 

Questionette 

EXCITED EXCITED EXCITED!! SO EXCITED!!! 

you picked the right gal to go cryptic hunting with! she LOVES anything creepy or weird, and she also loves anything romantic, so whats better than spending a romantic night in the woods trying to find something creepy or weird with her s/o??

she already knows so much about all different kinds of cryptids, she’ll spend all night talking with you about her favorites

when you two actually go to the woods, she packs a picnic along with all of your cryptic hunting stuff, so that you guys can share a lovely little late night snack under the light of the moonlight, and hopefully with mothman right by your side! 

like Habit, she has also been mistaken for a local cryptic too many times to count. the funny thing is, she doesn’t even know about it! so she’ll be right along with you, trying to find herself 

it takes awhile before she realizes, “hey, isn’t this the park i usually sit in, at around this time? and who’s that guy with the camera?” 

instead of being mad about it, she fully embraces and accepts it. in fact, she now spends some of her free time showing up in weird places and doing creepy stuff, just to keep the legend going. all with your help, of course!

you two become know as “the cryptic couple that hunt for crytics” and honestly? thats fine with both of you!

#i've played enough poptropica to know my cryptics #smile for me #sfm #smile for me game #smile for me imagines #smile for me headcanons #smile 4 me #s4m #boris habit #dr boris habit #boris habit x reader #dr habit #dr boris habit x reader #dr habit x reader #habit x reader #kamal bora #kamal bora x reader #questionette #questionette x reader

[all-hail-the-witcher]

I have literally no clue how to do this, but director’s commentary on your ‘One expensive can of easy cheese’ fic?

hell yeah!!

all comments will be in bold

______

Race was sat on top of the counter in his and Albert’s apartment, race only knows how to sit on counters lets be real, he can't sit in a chair to save his life a piece of duct tape over his mouth and his hands tied together with kitchen twine KINKYY. He sighed against his restraints, resigned to watch his boyfriend make their contribution to this year’s Thanksgiving gathering: mac and cheese. okay so its mac and cheese cause if you read spies mac and cheese is Literally the Only thing albert knows how to cook, other than coffee, and he's Really Fuckin Good At It (he's the mikey of mac and cheese okay this is my hc)

Now, of course everyone and their mother knew that mac and cheese was not a Traditional Thanksgiving Food is it though, r a c e r?. But, Albert had won (best out of three) mario kart yesterday so he had gotten to decide what they would bring to Jack’s house i was gonna make it rock paper scissors, i do not know hot to play mariokart, but it sounds more heated than rock paper scissors. Had Race known that he had been planning to make mac and fucking cheese, maybe he would have tried a little harder race be quiet you literally love alberts mac and cheese its a known fact.

Apparently, Albert was not pleased with Race’s reaction to his decision to make mac and cheese, and thought that Race might try to get in the way somehow (which he may or may not have fully intended to do) he did. So he did what any loving boyfriend would: sat him on the counter, put duct tape over his mouth and tied his hands together so he wouldn’t interfere albert sounds real kinky in this, why did i make this so kinky, wait when did i even write this.

Race was beginning to wonder why he had agreed to move in with Albert in the first place. CAUSE YOU LOVE HIM THATS WHY

With a violent shake of his head and one final spat who the fuck uses the word spat huh saph??, he was able to dislodge the duct tape d i s l o d g e thats some karen bs right there.

“Albieeeeee,” he whined, laying down on the counter. “Can you pleaaaaaaaseee let me helllllllllp?” yeah albert let him help jeez he's the one who actually knows how to cook

Albert barely glanced up as he pulled the big wooden spoon out of the pot and gave it a thoughtful lick note to self, all licks should always be thoughtful. “Hmmmmmmm. No.” dumbass. if only you knew what was coming.

“But-!” He wriggled w r i g g l e d around to give Albert his best puppy dog eyes. “Can I make something else then? Ple-OW!” He glared at the spatula that had been hurled at his arm. “You apologize for that!” damn albie why so mean? o wait i wrote this wait...

“Nah.” He smirked and went back to stirring his wretched pasta okay but i did a good job making race salty i gotta give myself that. Well, actually Albert’s mac and cheese was quite good hELL YEAH IT IS. Race was just salty that he was making it for Thanksgiving when it was very well known that he was the chef of the two and Jack was expecting something good not the mac and cheese Albert famously made at 2am in college when they were all high as hell. okay real talk tho, no one eats good mac and cheese in college, its the instant microwave shit cause were all broke so thats a lie race

“Can you at least untie me then?” ;)

“No.” Albert even bother considering this time. albert this is gettin Real Kinky..

“Well.” If logic wasn't going to work on Albert he would have to try another method. “I know you know how to make a guy feel good Albie HAH YES I KNEW I PULLED SOMETHING WEIRD, but I never expected ropes to be a part of it. What’s next? Handcuffs? Whips? Chains?” i gotta tell ya life without ya has been hard. hard? has been bad. bad? has been r o u g h. k i N kY

In two seconds flat Race was out of his kitchen twine bonds and flexing his sore wrists. LIKE HECK HE WAS CAUSE ALBERTS ACE AND HE DONT WANT THAT REPUTATION!!!

“Man Albie, who knew you had a twine kink.” hehe u go race

“You know,” Albert began loudly, as if thinking that his loudness would cover up his totally obvious twine kink yeah albie has a twine kink, he licks it, no this is a joke, “if you want to do something that's actually useful, you could go to Walgreens and buy me another can of Easy Cheese.” W A L G R E E NS. this whole fit was an excuse to write another part of the walgreens au

“Is that what you put in your fuckin mac and cheese?” Race swore he actually felt bile rise in the back of his throat when Albert nodded. “That’s it. I’m never eating your mac and cheese again.” BUT YOU LIKE IT

“But-!”

“I’ll eat you though,” Race winked, taking a moment to enjoy the startled, yet somehow pleased look on his boyfriend’s face. okay maybe albert wasn't ace in this particular fic...

“Not until after we’re done at Jack’s.” yeah definitely not scratch that. i write a lot of fics. Albert said only half jokingly as he dug around in his pocket for a second before throwing a crumpled five at Race. “In the meantime though, be gone thot!” GO AWAYYYY. IM A MAN OF GOD. mikey and my sister have subjected me to too many tik toks im sorry

Race barely managed to catch the bill without falling on the floor, but still blew a kiss to Albert before walking out of the apartment.

Who the fuck puts easy cheese in mac and cheese? albert does. but its actually a plot point just to get you to walgreens and if anyone puts easy cheese in mac and cheese i will fite you. He wondered for the millionth time as he stomped the three blocks to Walgreens. Albert claimed that he had chosen his apartment for its proximity to the store he did, actually, but up until today Race had always assumed that he had been joking he was not. The man did make a lot of mac and cheese and if Easy Cheese was an ingredient well….maybe there was some truth to that story after all. you can buy easy cheese at a lot of places tho...i don't actually know if you can buy easy cheese at a walgreens

Race pulled open the door to the Walgreens, pausing briefly to wonder why the absolute fuck it was open on literal Thanksgiving before remembering that it was a fucking Walgreens and why wouldn’t it be open to sell his dumbass boyfriend a can of fucking Easy Cheese. walgreens remains a mystery indeed. my only experience was the one that my best friend and i would go to at lunch during senior year. also have you ever noticed that most walgreenses are on corners? cause their slogan is at the corner of happy and healthy??

In order to get to the Easy Cheese, or at least he assumed so because he had never bought a can of Easy Cheese in his whole glorious 25 years of life a true chef, Race had to walk past the Pharmacy section of the store. And, it just so happened that there was a guy sitting behind the counter at the Pharmacy. A very attractive guy. With a beard. In scrubs. oh my god the most questionable villain I've ever written.

Now, of course Race loved Albert and nothing would ever change that, but he could appreciate an attractive man when he saw one indeed he could. He thanked whatever deity was out there for the bit of man candy M AN C AN D Y that he had been granted and went in search of his Easy Cheese. oh just you wait racetrack 

“Mac and cheese, velveta cheese, microwaveable mac and cheese, where the fuck is the- oh thank fuck there we go.” my best friend and i spent much time looking at the mac and cheese in walgreens He pulled a can of Easy Cheese off of the shelf, tossing it once and catching it athletics before turning to go pay for the horrendous product, happy to finally be done with the whole ordeal when- B R E T T 

“Easy cheese? Really?”

Race whirled whirled? saph please get a better vocabulary around to see Mr. Man Candy hA himself leaning against the opposite shelf. “Wh- who?”

“Oh,” he dusted his hand off on his scrubbs oh my god Wait i wrote this cause one time when i was in a walgreens i Did see a hot dude working the pharmacy and decided to write a fic about it!! i remember texting mikey about this hjfhgjhg, “allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brett O’Hare. and mikey came up with that name And you, sir, are a disgrace to society. The very reason why so many Americans are in poor health in this day and age.” brett is an obnoxious millennial in case you can't tell

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The Easy Cheese!” Brett gestured wildly toward the can in Race’s hand. “Gosh do you even know how many preservatives are in that stuff? And all the cancers that it can cause? It’s terrible. We wouldn’t need free healthcare if people just stopped eating Easy Cheese!” apparently he's a millennial who's also a republican...?

Race had lived in New York City his whole life, and he had seen some pretty strange things subway pizza rat, but never had he seen a pharmacist in a Walgreens lecture anyone about the health benefits of Easy Cheese. easy cheese has no health benefits. and if you'd stopped annoying your boyfriend maybe you wouldn't be there

“So let me get this straight,” Race rubbed his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “You go around yelling at people about the ingredients in the things that they are purchasing?” yeah its nyc people love to have Opinions. and so do millennials

“Yeah.”

“You do realize that this is a Walgreens, right? Everything in here probably contains some kind of chemical.” man brett has his work cut out for him. New Yorkers never ceased to amaze him.

“All the more reason for me to inform them of their poor eating habits!” Brett pointed a finger at him. “And stop distracting me! You’re the one buying the freaking easy cheese here!” this is so weird why did i come up with this idea. what possessed me. 

“It’s not even for me!” Race shouted back. “It’s for my boyfriend’s fucking mac and cheese that he insisted on making for Thanksgiving even though everyone knows that mac and cheese is not a fucking Thanksgiving food and he’s only making it cause he knocked me off the goddamn rainbow road right before the fucking finish line!” someones salty Race was fuming but the time that he was done.

“Oh, man I’m so sorry, that's lousy.” but it won't stop brett...

Race looked surprised. Of all the things that he thought he would get out of this Walgreens experience, a therapy session was indeed not on the list. But neither had been hearing a lecture about the preservatives in Easy Cheese from a pharmacist. i have literally no explanation for this train wreck of a fic

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still buying Easy Cheese!” Between one second and the next, Brett had grabbed the can of Easy Cheese out of Race’s hand, wielding it like a brick ha percy jackson heroes of olympus anyone??. “Buy some fucking vegetables!” you can't buy vegetables in a walgreens brett

And with that, he struck Race over the head with the can of Easy Cheese.

Now, Race had definitely done some questionable things during his life Thats for sure. Once he had slept on the roof of his dorm building in January for a week because he lost his dorm key god why you can't even get on the roof of dorm buildings i know, I've tried, and another time he had been tricked into making an entire wedding cake using salt by Who??. However, being smacked over the head with a can of Easy Cheese by a health nut in scrubs on Thanksgiving put any and all other situations he had been in to shame in a walgreens don't forget. how did you forget that saph.  

He opened his eyes, suddenly blinded by the lights, and reached for his phone, muttering curses about man candy and vegetables as he should be. Squinting so he didn’t have to look at the screen, he somehow managed to dial Albert. no one d i a l s anyone saph. its the 21st century. i have like maybe 8 phone numbers memorized, half of them belong to my family the other half to people i knew in middle school.

“Racetrack Higgins, where is my Easy Cheese?”

Race pulled the phone away from his ear and winced at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. “Um, it may have been used to give me a concussion by a health nut in scrubs?” for Once al isn't the one who gets injured in a walgreens. bet you didnt see That coming

Albert let out a loud sigh. “Ah man, did you run into Brett? That guy’s the worst.” hehe bet al used to date him

“Wait, you know him?”

“Race, I know every Walgreens employee in Manhattan, of course I know Brett.” There was the jangling of keys in the background. “I thought I told you to go to the one on 4th for this reason, ah, well. I’m on my way. I’ll take you to urgent care. Hang tight.” ofc al goes to urgent care. and everyone there knows him by a first name basis

Race’s head hurt too much to process what Albert had said except for the words ‘I’m on my way.’ “Okay,” he sighed. this was definitely one of the times i asked mikey about oddly specific concussion symptoms and then proceeded to forget everything he told me and do my own stuff

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Race’s eyes focused on the dented can of Easy Cheese rolling on the floor he should still buy it. “And Al?”

“Yeah?”

“This is going to be one expensive can of Easy Cheese.” get it? cause race has to pay urgent care for his consultation? and they're also Very Very late to thanksgiving. cause al insists on finishing his mac. jack is not impressed. he eats all races pie.

anyway thats that hope you enjoyed

[foegold]

people be wanting to know about a lil blue bastard. this ones long as hell so its under the cut jsdhfg

Your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

farmer! he’d just keep living the way he’d been living. it’s the sort of life he imagines he’ll return to one day, after he’s seen and done enough. ‘enough’ is a really arbitrary end goal though

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

who in the party wouldn’t he trust with his life tbh. in the most literal sense he’d trust Eli with it just because he knows Eli can bring him back from dying in some stupid and ill-advised way

What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

frogs are good, try to be nice to people but if they’re mean to you first then at least a few bets are off, the rich should probably be eaten. killing is sometimes necessary but maybe try some other stuff first

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

he doesn’t have any siblings, and his relationship with his mom and recently present dad is. a little weird, and not all the way comfortable, and not like really bad, but just confusing? it’s confusing. at least he’s had more transparency from his mom recently than just about any other time. it’s a start

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

he trusts other tieflings a little quicker than other races but its not really saying much because he’s not smart and if you’re good at talking and sound like you know what you’re talking about he’ll just believe you. he doesn’t have the good sense to second think it without prompting

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

so far just about every interaction with nobility has been messy or bad or scary or all three so right now the opinion is “not great”. also thats just too much money. whaddahell would you do with that much money.  he’s generally uneasy with authority figures at best, and flat out paralyzed by them at worst. he’s easy to bully when he doesn’t have anyone backing him up and he knows and hates it

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

he cycles through an assortment of sweaters but the one he wears the most is the heart sweater he got in Wunjo that’s been altered a few times in the last few months. he do keep collecting those scars tho, before starting adventuring he had a handful of minor scars just from working around the farm with the animals and the equipment and from romping around in the country. now he’s got all sorts, but the most prominent ones are: the thin scar on the left side of his face, starting just below the eyebrow and curving gently below his eye (the last time Leo would leave a mark on him); the twisted angry scars across his torso from being mauled by a giant undead horse(?); and the fluid, patterned necromancy scars slowly spreading across his back, creeping along inch by inch

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

besides his own house, Roman’s house has been the nicest! its warm and theres soup and friends there. there was a run down little ranch house somewhere at some point, but he’s not so sure anymore that he didn’t just dream about fixing the place up with his best friend

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

he doesn’t have a god he actively worships, but he’s peripherally aware of the god in the mountains that’s responsible for some of the most brutal storms in the region. he doesn’t care much about religion but hes got the same amount of concern most people would have about evil deities and what their followers do

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

probably woodworking! its handy, it’s useful for living out in the country where you have to either make the tools or furniture or fun items to put on a shelf you want, or go out of your way and also spend money to get them. maybe an actual alchemy set and/or poison kit but 1) playing with poison just a fun hobby for him and Xan to get into when they have the time and the plants for it, and 2) man he wouldnt follow the instruction manual anyway so whats the point

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?)

will his friends be okay? will he be okay? is there an FAQ for tieflings learning that they’re much closer to fiend lineage than they originally thought? that would be convenient and helpful. is john gonna figure out more about the little men named ‘adam’ that’re allegedly everywhere?  if he could know one thing about the future, he’d like to know if everything will end out okay. if things will turn out as nice as he’d like them to.

What colors are associated with your character?

looks at the camera like im on the office

blue, white, and black are the big ones but im trying to pepper in a few other colors. reds and yellows are a close second

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances?

everyone sits squarely in the #1 spot on the rescue list

that aside john and roman are extremely high priority, they’re not the sturdiest and if something looked at them too hard they might keel over. baster and xan come next, he knows baster’s a shit brick house but he keeps seeing bad things happen to her and really hes just had Enough of it. eli’s a little lower priority because they can heal themselves if they’re in a tight spot, and then blu considers himself least concern. he knows he can get thrashed around some and still survive, he’d rather take a beating and know he’ll walk out of it than let someone else take it and wind up dead

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos?

pathos, it’s easy to make him feel for u. legit any of them work though as long as you talk it up good enough he’ll believe you and if there aren’t any glaring conflicts between what you’re selling him and his base morals then it’s relatively easy to get him on board

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for?

idk probably something really simple that he put all of .5 of a second of thought into. hes not smart and doesnt have good foresight so he’d probably ask for a frog or smth unless there was something very much more pressing and present

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

favorite(?) spell is life transference. it hurts a bit but it keeps his friends safe so it’s worth it. invisibility is up there too, its fun and easy to steal from stores when ur not visible

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party?

he doesn’t like lying and also lies really poorly. he’s usually just honest from the get-go, its easier and feels better. if he has to lie its through omission, bold faced lies really just dont work

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by?

all sorts....bro the world is full of animals and lots of them like to be pet

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?

he thought he’d grow up and be a farmer like his mom, the adventuring thing was extremely unplanned and impromptu. he hoped he could be a kind and brave person though, the way Canna described his dad.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond?

random roll says it’s Roman, he’d probably laugh because the only reason that would happen is because the party is fooling around with potions again. Roman’s very married and very in love with his husband and makes sure everyone knows it all the time

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with?

that doesn’t seem like a very viable circumstance, the only npc thats important enough that he’d listen to for something like that is his mom and she actively encourages him to take care of himself and his friends, and lets him make his own decisions about what he’s doing with his life, so

What unusual talents does your character possess?

idk if its all that unusual of a talent but he got really good at stealing and pickpocketing and he can do a sick flip. also does some black magic sometimes

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?)

it’s his name, u kno. bluebell is his middle name, but Canna called him bluebell growing up and he latched onto it a lot more than arden, and he thinks its a nice name, and a nice flower, and it sure would be nice if people would stop laughing when he introduces himself as “Blu”,

(blu was originally a stand-in name until i named him something else but it really grew on me and it fit him so! it didnt change, he just got other names too)

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character?

The Moon. 👀

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

he’s def scared of magic sometimes, especially his own. he also really wants to understand it better though, and be less scared, or at least control it better. imo it’s a healthy fear, theres been lots of magic mishaps 

How did your character learn the languages that they speak?

he learned common and infernal from mom! and he’s learning draconic from xan. it’s a nice downtime activity, sit down with ur best friend and homie and learn a new language just for fun

#asks #hohg.....thats a lot of questions lksjflsahfdg #c: blu

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 4

Onward!!!! Part 4!!! The end of the ManFatale arc!!!! If you’re like “WTF is this?” you can read all of it by going to my MASTERPOST for The Detective and the Tech Guy. If you want to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, you can do that by clicking >THIS<.

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd just had to steal a parking spot from a little old lady who was just barely able to see over her steering wheel, and he felt bad about that, he really did. But it meant he was able to catch up to Sarah fast enough to be able to see her enter the office building she'd told him about earlier.

Just like she'd said, the building was off of Melrose, in SoHo. But he didn't follow her inside. Instead, he moved behind a short palm that was planted in a courtyard off to the side, complete with benches and planters. He leaned against the trunk of it and stared at the entrance.

He was old hat at this now, after a few days of tailing that asshole Fake Cartwright. Robbie. Pfft.

Maybe tailing his girlfriend while she was working wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever done in their relationship, granted. And she would probably be so mad at him if she knew he'd gotten in his car and followed her as best he could without getting too close, knowing she was way too smart to let herself be followed as closely as he wanted to. He'd nearly lost her a few times even, but he'd gotten back on track eventually, not wanting to be directly in her line of sight because she was a damn detective and she knew what his damn car looked like.

But it scared him to death hearing her yell, the dial tone…Seeing those papers scattered over the floor as though she'd had the file in her hand when Not-Cartwright had broken in, grabbed her, and yanked her out. God, the things he'd been unable to keep himself from imagining on the way there.

And then when he saw she was safe, when he held her in his arms, having to watch her leave again to go someplace potentially dangerous, and with no cell phone, no way to contact him, or more importantly, the police. That mean Detective Casey guy. God, that guy was a jerk. But at least he'd be able to back Sarah up if she called him, if she was in danger.

So Chuck had done the only thing he could think of to make sure she was okay. He'd followed her. He did have a cellphone. And a vested interest in her safety, damn it.

And he was going to watch those doors like a hawk. If this Jerald Brown fellow wasn't the upstanding tech guru Chuck had always figured he was in spite of never meeting him face to face, Chuck would take him down himself. He'd played flag football in junior high P.E. He knew what he was about.

He waited, waited…waited some more…

Until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He ducked back behind the palm tree as best he could and watched as the man he now knew wasn't Robert Cartwright strolled up the sidewalk towards the building, in his off-white suit, pale pink tie, suede shoes. A chill went through Chuck as the man stopped and took his sunglasses off, peering up at the very same building Sarah had just gone into to meet the man this imposter hired her to investigate.

His phone was in his hand immediately. He didn't have a direct line to Detective John Casey, but all he had to do was press three numbers.

There was no reason why this man should know what was happening in there. There was no reason why this man should know about this building in the first place, unless…well, unless he knew. Had he followed Sarah, too? Or had he followed Brown?

How did he know?

Oh God. God, Sarah didn't have her cellphone. And now he was going up the steps. If Chuck followed him, he wouldn't be able to stop him. This man was a seasoned criminal and possibly a killer. He definitely had a weapon.

God, he was opening the door.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's a woman being attacked inside of an office. A man went in there and he's attacking her. He has a weapon." He gave the address, told the operator she needed to hurry, and he hung up again.

It killed him, absolutely destroyed him, to move away from the building. He felt like he was dying as he spun on his heel and sprinted back to his car. He was leaving her in there, alone, and he was so terrified he was on the verge of a breakdown. He was angry with himself, sick with himself, and still he got into his car, turned it on, and with only a half glance back at the building his girlfriend was currently inside of with an angry, potentially murderous conman, he sped away from her.

God, he hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped to any deity that was listening that he was doing the right thing.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah's hand twitched automatically, ready to draw and put this imposter on the ground with a hole in his chest, but before she could do anything else, there was a loud bang and the arm of her chair exploded in splinters.

She yelped and fell out of the chair onto the floor, holding her hands up, her life having just flashed before her eyes.

That had been an extremely precise shot, not meant to hurt her…a warning that he would hurt her if she gave him any sort of reason to. He'd just missed her but she had scratches on her wrist and the back of her hand from the splintered wood exploding next to her.

"Stand up, kick your gun over here, Miss Walker," he demanded coolly, the South African accent gone. His American accent sounded practiced, too, however. "And then keep your hands in the air. You move wrong and I'll shoot you between the eyes. I've got nothing to lose now. Don't think I won't shoot a pretty girl…"

Sarah stood up and carefully went into her holster, pulling her gun out, setting it on the ground and sliding it across the tile floor to the conman.

"You stand up, too, ya fat fuck," the imposter said to Brown, reaching behind him to shut the door as much as he could with how he'd broken the handle getting in.

The private investigator and ex-Pinkerton detective felt anger start to rise inside of her. Not only did this fucker take a shot at her, he was going around calling good men 'fat fucks' too? She clenched her jaw, unable to help herself.

"You think you're a big boy now that you have that gun pointed at us," she said, keeping her hands up. But God she could feel that knife at her hip, and the ones strapped to her thigh and her fingers itched for them. But the only safe thing to do was to throw verbal barbs at him, so she kept going. "You can insult Mr. Brown when you've got a gun trained on 'im, but I bet just a few days ago, you were kissing his ass, weren't you?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, bitch?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Sarah Walker, private investigator. Without those legs, you'd be working at an Abercrombie & Fitch spraying perfume at teenagers."

She inwardly smirked. He might be a dangerous conman, and a smart enough criminal to have gotten away with his ruse for this long, but he hadn't done his homework apparently. He had no idea she'd been a Pinkerton detective. He had no idea whom he was dealing with.

"You picked the wrong P.I. to hire, Cartwright," Brown said, his voice a little shaky as he stood behind her, still at his wife's desk. "She's not just good at her job, she has a moral compass, and a nose for sniffing out criminal lowlifes."

"I did all right, didn't I? Who's standing here with the gun?"

"What are you gonna do?" Brown asked, seeming to gain a bit more confidence now. "Kill us?"

"Yes, actually. I am. Nobody knows we're here." That was true, Sarah thought miserably. Chuck only knew that she'd gone to an office building in SoHo off of Melrose. There were a handful of them. And he'd have no way of knowing if something bad was happening to her. God, she wished so hard for his paranoia, his idiotic jealous paranoia, that worried crease he'd had between his eyebrows…Please, Chuck… Maybe she could telepathically project terror at him and he'd feel something. They were close enough, emotionally bonded, weren't they? She'd never been so connected to anyone else in her entire life. Wasn't that how that weird crap worked?

Please, please, please, Chuck…

"What did you do with Cartwright?" she asked. If she could just get him talking, she could stall whatever it was he meant to do with them.

"I didn't touch the rat bastard. It wasn't me," he groused. "Wish it had been. He was a lousy piece of shit by all accounts, swimming in his money, an asshole to everyone, greedy."

"So he is dead, then. Who did it if it wasn't you?"

"He's dead. There was a storm, destroyed his boat probably. Found some wreckage where I was in Point d'Esny. Also found his body. Nobody else was on the beach so I took everything I could carry, took his body out onto the water, and dropped it with a bag of sand. Got rid of his boat altogether. Wasn't until a few days later I found out he was a Cape Town big shot. But he was a recluse, too. Nobody ever really saw him much at all. Perfect opportunity for me." He shrugged, and Sarah watched for any opportunity she might have to catch him off guard, but this obviously wasn't the first time he'd held a gun on someone. And she was sure this wouldn't be the first time he'd killed either…if it turned out he got that far.

And oh God, what would she do if he started shooting to kill?

"How did you even pull this off?" Brown asked.

"Easy. When the guy was alive and had less dead-bloat than he had when I found 'im, we looked pretty similar I guess. His IDs all worked long enough for me to forge new ones. Nobody asked any questions when Robert Cartwright showed up in Los Angeles for business. The checks all worked, the bank tellers all let me walk right in, the credit cards worked. I've made a fortune off of this guy, all because he was a shitty sailor."

He kissed the tips of his fingers.

"You're deplorable," Sarah said.

"Mmhmm. Deplorable enough to kill you two so I can get away with it all."

Brown cursed. "You aren't getting away with a damn thing!"

"I am. I've already destroyed any records that I was ever here. I've sold most of his African possessions, withdrawn every last cent I could from the banks. After I'm gone, they'll probably file a missing persons report." He chuckled and grinned a now twisted version of Alain Delon's smile. She wished she could apologize to the French actor for ever thinking he was similar.

This asshole wished…

ManFatale, Chuck had called him near the beginning of this damn job. She'd made fun of him then, but now she saw just how right he was. There was a good chance she was dying here today, in this office with the knitted pillows. Underestimating this bastard was her downfall.

"You don't think they'll dog your steps no matter where you go?" she asked then, starting to let anger overtake her fear. She liked anger better. It was better than giving in to despair, despair that she'd seen Chuck for the last time not an hour ago, climbing into his fuel-efficient car, after trying to make her take his phone. Maybe if she'd taken it, she could've secretly hit the emergency button on it.

What was he going to do?

What would he do if she died here today?

Oh, God…

No. Anger. Anger was better.

"I've covered my tracks."

"You haven't covered shit. The FBI, the CIA, the NSA, they've all got guys who find pieces of shit like you every single day. You aren't getting away it with no matter what you do to us," she hissed through her teeth.

The imposter angled his gun down suddenly and shot, sending a bullet clattering into the ground at her feet. She screamed and clasped her hands to her mouth, jumping away. He raised the gun and shot again, hitting the desk right next to her hip and she fell to the side, onto the floor. Brown knelt down behind her, a protective move, but this time the bullet that came from the imposter's gun was true.

Brown hit the tile hard, a hole in his shoulder as he cried out in pain.

Holy shit!

Now there was fear inside of her. Abject fear as she acted fast, grabbing Brown's hand and making him press it against his wound. "Just hold it…press down, you'll be okay…"

"Get up," the imposter growled at her, stepping closer. She ignored him as she tried to help the injured man. "I said get up!" he yelled this time, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her to her feet.

She heard sirens in the distance and she knew as his eyes darted to the side in momentary worry that this was her one and only chance to get herself and Jerald Brown out of here alive.

Sarah Walker, P.I. struck fast. She swung her left arm around, clamped her fingers around his wrist and pushed the gun away from her temple where he'd been holding it. He pulled the trigger, breaking the window behind her, and the sound of it startled him enough that she was able to bring her knee up and back and slam her heel right between his legs.

He yelled in pain as she snapped the arm that had the gun down across her knee, hearing the crack of his bone breaking and the clatter of the gun hitting the floor. She kicked it away as he fell hard onto his back and she crawled onto him, slamming her fist down into his face, over and over and over and over again until he put his non-injured arm up and begged her to stop.

Just then the door burst right off of its hinges, police officers racing inside.

"GET ON THE GROUND!" an LAPD officer barked, and in spite of the fact that he might not be talking to her, she crawled down onto her knees and put her hands behind her head. She didn't know who or what had brought the police here but she wasn't about to be shot for trying to explain right away when they were attempting to take control of the situation.

Once the yelling stopped and the police had clambered over to Brown who was still conscious but whimpering, an officer grabbed her by her arm and hoisted her up. "My name is Sarah Walker, private investigator. That man broke in while I was in a meeting with Mr. Brown and held a gun on us. He shot him. Tried to…tried to shoot me, too." She was breathless, and she realized that in spite of being in scenarios with guns, bombs, and other terrifying situations, this had been one of the closest shaves she'd had.

And she had a lot more to lose this time.

She had to press her lips together and blink a few times to keep the rush of terrified tears at bay.

"All right, miss. Just come over here and sit in this chair. Your name again…?"

"Sarah Walker," she murmured, trying to take deep breaths. "I own Walker Investigative Enterprises. I've-I've got a P.I. license."

The two officers exchanged flat looks. "A P.I., huh?"

This had been too traumatic for her to find the willpower to give them dirty looks for that.

"Get an ambulance here, we've got two men in need of medical attention," one of the cops said into their walky-talky. "One gunshot wound. Another with abrasions to the face, broken arm."

Sarah thought about how badly she wished she could've given him more abrasions to the face, and she thought maybe she was starting to feel more like herself now that the danger had abated. Though her ear was ringing bad from that gun going off so close to it.

"You're Sarah Walker, that's Jerald Brown…and who is this guy?" The cop gestured to Fake Cartwright.

Paramedics rushed in then, tending to Brown first and getting him lifted onto a gurney.

"A criminal," Sarah said. "If you look up Robert Cartwright, you'd find this man's picture. But he-he isn't Robert Cartwright."

"Huh?"

She explained the situation to them for the next three minutes, accepting the strong coffee one of them gave her, and the blanket the other one wrapped around her shoulders. She didn't know when she'd begun to shiver. And it wasn't from the cold.

As she realized she was just barely keeping from slipping into shock, suddenly there was a shuffling of people at the door and Detective John Casey was there, his hulking figure taking up the entire doorway practically. "Whatever she said about him, it's true," he said, pointing over her shoulder. "Cartwright's an imposter." He pulled his badge out as he walked into the room and flashed it at the officers. "I'll handle the questioning from here, officers."

They both nodded and moved away.

And that was when she looked up to see Chuck step out from behind the detective, his eyes finding her immediately.

"Sarah…"

"Chuck!"

She left the coffee and the blanket behind, surging to her feet just in time for his body to crash into hers, his arms so strong as they folded her up against him, so warm and safe and everything she'd needed the moment this had all ended.

Sarah felt her boyfriend's lips against her hair, and then her temple, and her cheek, and he just held her so tight. She didn't ever want to let go. Ever.

And she heard him curse, his hand coming up to brush over her hair. "Are you okay?" he asked finally. "Did he hurt you? I'll kill him."

"Maybe not the smartest thing to say in front of the LAPD, idiot," Casey grumbled from where he was standing over Chuck's shoulder.

She ignored him, though, burying her face in Chuck's neck and letting herself cry just a little. She'd been so scared she'd never see him again. So scared she'd never feel this. Or eat one of his waffles he made that were never thick enough or cooked as much as she wanted them to be because he didn't put enough batter in, and didn't leave it in the iron long enough. Because he was too impatient, like a little boy.

"I'm okay," she gasped out, trying to hold back still and not doing a great job of it. "I'm okay. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said immediately, holding her even tighter, pressing his lips against her temple and keeping them there.

She finally pulled back, letting him cup her face and kiss her properly, and then he kissed the remnants of the few tears she'd shed away. "What—How?" she asked.

"I…" He winced. "I was worried. Super, super worried. I had this weird feeling in my gut letting you drive off to this meeting with no cell phone or anything. So I…gah, I followed you. I know you—you probably…" He huffed at her impatient look. "You're right. Let's table that. I was waiting outside, 'cause I'm your man and I wanted to have your back in case things got cray. But then while I was waiting, I saw that fake-ass mother fucker walk up with his cheesy as hell B-List sunglasses and that shit-eating smirk, and I knew right away that you were in trouble." A smile began to grow on her face as she watched him start to get riled up now as he told his story. "I was going to run after him and strangle him or roundhouse kick him in the jaw or somethin' but then I figured I'd most likely get shot and you'd never forgive me if that happened. So I called 9-1-1 instead and got in my car to come find Cas—Casey—Detective Casey." He cleared his throat at the glare the older man sent him.

"You're insane," she breathed, swallowing another sob and throwing her arms around his neck, letting him lift her enough that her feet were dangling a few inches off the floor, and they stayed like that for long enough that Casey finally cleared his throat.

Chuck set her down and she resisted the urge to kiss him again, longing in her gaze as she peered up at him for a moment…And then she turned to John Casey and nodded.

"Yeah, well…S'a miracle we even got here when we did what with this moron driving like a fuckin' grandma."

"What?!" Chuck spun on his heels to face the LAPD detective. "That's not even true! I was going fast! Things were whizzing past my window!" He let go of her arm with one hand and mimicked swishing his hand back and forth past his head manically.

"Right. Sure. Walker, I'm gonna need you at the station. Your secretary here only gave me the highlights. He can't talk and drive at the same time." Casey turned and headed for the door.

"Are you serious right now?" Chuck asked, his pitch getting a bit higher. "Secretary? How many times do I—?" They both began to follow after him then, Sarah's fist twisted in Chuck's sleeve, pulling him along. "Oh. He's messing with me, isn't he?"

She heard the amused grunt from the cop as he pressed the button to call the elevator, and she saw the small smirk on his face. It made her feel so glad to be alive.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It had only taken twenty minutes for Detective Casey to eject Chuck from the room where he'd taken them for questioning. She'd had to watch as he interrupted one final time—"Sarah, tell him about…"—then Casey's patience, which had been wearing thin already no doubt, snapped. He stood up, grabbed Chuck by his arm, and escorted him out of the room, shutting the door in his face.

She'd had to smirk inwardly at the cute, offended sounds of confusion that her boyfriend made until he was locked out on the other side of the door where he could no longer interrupt.

Casey'd finally sat down across from her again, and she'd told him every last detail she could, even letting him have the files she'd kept in her briefcase that she'd had during the meeting with Brown, in case he'd needed convincing.

"So what made you so sure of Jerald Brown that you ended up focusing most of your efforts on investigating your client, rather than investigating the guy he was paying you to investigate?" Casey asked, forty-five minutes into their meeting.

"Part of it was the fact that I spent three days tailing him, going through his background, his financial records, combing through his personal life, and I'd found absolutely nothing to make me think he was anything other than a good businessman, and a good man in general. Not that he was without faults, but none of it was illegal or reprehensible. No illicit affairs, no fraud, nothing untoward." She shrugged.

"And the other part?"

"Chuck insisted he was a commendable man."

Casey scoffed. "You took him at his word?"

"I always do," she said, holding her chin high. "He knows who is who in his own industry, and he's a commendable man himself."

"Don't get defensive, Walker."

"I did my homework. And on the other side, I had this guy who, for all intents and purposes, was very smooth, seemed to know just what to say to every question or comment I had during our meetings, and…this was the key…the more time I spent in these meetings with who I thought was Robert Cartwright, the more I got the feeling he wanted me to find something wrong."

Casey grunted, thunking a pen against his chin a few times, thoughtfully. Then he narrowed his eyes. "I get where you're going. Instead of wanting you to just check and make sure this potential future business associate was on the level, and being relieved when you kept coming back with confirmation that he was, Cartwright seemed like he was digging for some dirt on him instead."

"Exactly. It was sneaky. And it made me super suspicious."

"Hmng," Casey tossed the pen on the table and pushed his chair back. "Don't blame ya. That was pretty good work, Detective. Don't take this the wrong way," he started, which was always a stellar way for another person to start a statement, she thought wryly, "but I'm curious as to why ya didn't just take the money and let this lie."

Sarah crossed her arms and stood up from her chair, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I'm not that kind of P.I., Detective Casey. I want to make a living off of this P.I. business I'm building, but not at the expense of innocent people, and not to aid and abet criminals. I'm operating on the right side of the law."

"So no adultery cases, huh?" He grinned a bit lecherously and she glared at him.

"If someone comes in offering me the right amount of money to try to catch their partner with someone else, depending on the person and the case, I might accept. But what business is that of yours?"

"It ain't. Lighten up. Yeesh." He held his hands up defensively, one of the gestures that infuriated her the most when men did it at her.

"Is that all you need from me?"

"Yeah. But make sure to stick around for a week or so while we work on this case. We may need the FBI in on this if he's committed crimes like this before, and they'll be bringing the South African and Cape Town authorities in, I'm sure."

"I will," she said, getting up and walking towards the door. "Oh. Here." She came back and set all of the work she'd done down on his desk. "I'm sure you folks'll need this." He deserved the snarky smirk she sent him, and the look on his face told him he probably knew he deserved it, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud ever in a million years.

"Thanks. And uh…make sure you take care of that hand. Don't think I didn't see you trying to hide the scratches. Was that his face that gave you those?"

She looked down at the scratches on the back of her hand, and now on her knuckles from his face, just as Casey surmised. "Yes and no. His face, but also, he shot at the arm of the chair where I'd just been and the wood sort of exploded and caught me."

Casey winced. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just a little home first aid is required. Nothing deep."

"Good." There was silence between them then as she nodded and went for the door. "Walker."

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"We've got officers watchin' him now where he was admitted to the hospital, and when they've set that arm and gotten his face fixed up," she noticed a particular thread of pleasure in his smirk at that, "they're takin' him to his own cell here where I'll question him personally while we wait for FBI to send someone. That is to say…you did some damn fine work."

She smiled. "Thanks. Oh. Did Jerald Brown…?"

"He's gonna be fine. I'll email you where they took 'im if you want to visit tomorrow. He'll be kept at the hospital for a few days."

"Good. And yes. Please do. Thanks."

He nodded and she stepped out of the room, finding Chuck sitting a bit dejectedly in what she thought might be a perp chair at the end of someone's desk. Thankfully, whoever's desk it was seemed to be gone for the day.

She gestured for him to followed her with a flick of her head and a smile when he lifted his chin from his chest and met her eyes.

And she clung to him as best she could while still being able to walk to the elevator.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She was quiet the whole ride back to her apartment, curled up in his passenger seat, having kicked her heels off and pulled her legs against her chest, her forehead leaning against the window as she gazed out on the late afternoon street.

And the sun had finally set, the sky still light out but darkening by the time he pulled into a parking spot in her apartment complex. They'd left her car in free street parking where she'd left it before her meeting with Brown a few hours earlier and they'd get it later, tomorrow most likely. She hadn't seemed as worried about it as she was about finally going home, so he'd promptly driven her from the police station to her place with no stops in between.

Now they sat in the comfortable warmth of his car, the engine off, silence permeating…

Until Sarah turned to look at him, smiling softly, and then she reached out and took his hand, not looking away for even a moment as she breathed a quiet, "Will you stay with me?"

He felt everything inside of him crumbling and never in his entire life had he ever wanted to protect anything or anyone as much as he wanted to protect Sarah Walker. Not trusting his voice, still shaken up from what had nearly happened, he nodded vigorously instead, and she smiled a bit harder.

They got out and headed up to her apartment, his arm around her shoulders the whole way, and he used his key to let them in, turning on the lights for her as she tossed her purse onto the entryway table and kicked off her heels again, shrugging her jacket off.

It was then that he saw her hand. There were bloody marks on the back of it, cuts on her wrist, and red welts with dried blood and most likely bruising underneath on her knuckles.

Nothing else mattered as he made a beeline for her and gently picked up her arm, cradling her hand and wrist in his comforting grip. "Sarah…"

"I know, I know…but it's fine. I've had worse."

"You've let this go for hours."

"I've had worse, Chuck. It's okay. I'll just ice it—"

He shook his head vehemently and pulled her through her apartment to the bathroom. "You have first aid?"

"You know where it is from where you burned yourself on the coffee pot."

"Oh…oh yeah. Um…remind me, though."

Seeing blood on her hand, her own blood, knowing she'd been hurt, knowing she could have been worse than hurt, was starting to catch up to him suddenly. And he was trying so hard not to let her see. He didn't want her thinking he was going to be a basket case about her chosen profession. That every little cut she got made him crazy and sick with worry. But this had felt like a big deal. A really big deal. And he had no idea what would've happened if the police hadn't shown up, if he hadn't called them.

"Hey," she breathed suddenly, and he cursed himself a little, knowing he'd let it all show on his face anyway. "Hey, look at me." She cupped his face and forced his gaze to hers. Her blue eyes reassured him immediately and he had to resist the urge to melt into her, hold onto her for dear life. "Chuck, are you spiraling because of this?" she asked, presenting her injured hand to him.

He nodded, putting his hands on her hips to keep himself steady.

Her good hand stroked his jaw and his eyelids fluttered. "Please don't. I'm okay."

"Help me maybe not spiral by telling me where that first aid kit is and I can clean you up a bit."

"It's right here, in the cupboard under this drawer." She shifted to bump her hip against the drawer she was talking about. "But…before you do that, would you mind if I took a shower?"

He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, a slow, long kiss. He understood the request at a deeper level, but he wouldn't say it out loud. She needed some time alone after everything. She'd almost been killed, watched Brown get shot right in front of her, and had cops swarming her, and finally the questioning at the station and being trapped in the car with him as he drove her home.

"Thank you. It-It'll be a quick one." She slid past him, dragging her fingertips over his abdomen as she went to the shower and turned on the water.

"Take your time, baby. I'll have a martini ready for you when you're done." On second thought, as she gingerly started to unbutton her blouse, he waited for her to realize he was still there and turn to meet his gaze before he said it again. "Take your time."

Understanding dawned on her features and her shoulders drooped a bit. He thought her chin might have quivered and he just turned on his heel and left before he was tempted to gather her up in his arms and hold her some more. She needed to be alone for a bit, though, so he went into her kitchen and started preparing a few martinis, two to start with, one for each of them. He didn't know how many of these she was going to need, but he'd make her as many as she asked for.

And he waited, enjoying the texts Ellie had sent him throughout all of this, the one about Clara pushing herself up to sit for a few seconds before falling again. The look she gave her mom like she didn't know if she should cry or not. It warmed him from the inside out. And he'd been so cold before. Unable to get rid of that terrifying sensation he'd had when he'd screeched to a halt next to the office building, seeing the police cars haphazardly parked, lights still blinking, the ambulance there, someone being wheeled into it…

He'd seen it was Brown, that he'd been shot, and he tried to tear into the building, only to have Casey and two other officers have to grab onto him and nearly take him down to the ground. When they got him to stop, Casey barked, "He's with me", and he yanked on Chuck's tie, pointing in his face with a "Slow down, kid".

That was all it took for him to gain control, afraid this detective might knock him out altogether if he didn't take a breath. And he let Casey take point, shaken to his core until the moment he stepped into the room and saw his very own detective sitting there, alive, no bullet holes in her like the man downstairs'd had.

He felt a chill go through him as he stood there peering out into the courtyard of Sarah's building, watching an older woman take down a few shirts she'd hung on a clothesline and toss them into a basket. Her tabby cat made a figure-8 around her legs in the meantime, finally following her inside as she hobbled up the steps and into the building.

Chuck let himself get lost in everything for a few minutes, going through all of the worst scenarios that thankfully hadn't happened. Sarah was alive and well, currently in the shower, washing off the remnants of her harrowing ordeal.

He'd heard everything that had happened to her in Mrs. Brown's office while she told the grumpy detective—before said grump kicked him out. He supposed he couldn't blame the guy for it, though, because he'd caught himself interrupting too often. No matter how many times he apologized, he never learned, and his punishment was sitting out by himself for the remainder of the conversation.

But Sarah had been shot at multiple times, and every time Not-Cartwright had purposely missed her, his intent being to scare her. That made Chuck Bartowski angry. There was an extra level of pathology to lord your power over someone in that way, terrifying them before you kill them, making them suffer… It made him feel so disgusted, and then he thought Sarah must have come into contact with psychopaths like this guy before in her line of work.

She was an incredible bad ass, the coolest, strongest person he'd ever met. And he was sure no matter how often she'd come face to face with these crazy assholes, it didn't make being shot at any easier to handle, especially when it was so cruelly done to terrorize her. By the shakiness in her voice when she'd told them about him shooting her chair and then at her feet, and finally at the desk next to her hip, before sinking a bullet into Mr. Brown, the man she'd been attempting to protect, Chuck could tell it had gotten to her. Genuinely.

Maybe he shouldn't announce it in front of the LAPD, but deep inside, Chuck wasn't sure he'd be able to hold himself back from murdering that guy if he'd had a crack at him when he first got into that room and saw Sarah there, her face so pale, the blanket around her shoulders, the bun she'd had in her hair when he'd seen her last half pulled out… He'd discovered later that the man had grabbed her by her hair and yanked her up to her feet by it.

Chuck thought he'd like to do the same to him, but instead he'd pull his spine right out with one hard yank. Mortal Kombat style.

"Thought I'd bring the first aid kit with me because I already know you'll refuse to take no for an answer."

He spun on his heel, letting the curtain fall back into place and cover the window to see Sarah had wandered in, her step light like a cat's so that he hadn't heard her come in. Granted he might've also been a bit distracted.

But then she set the first aid kit on the table and frowned deeply. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Wrong?"

"You turned around and looked like a rabidly angry gorilla or something for a second."

He just shook his head and sniffed in amusement. "It's nothing."

"Chuck…"

"I was thinking about what he did to you, and maybe imagining myself doing one of the Mortal Kombat fatality moves on him. That's all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, slowly wandering over.

She widened her eyes. "I don't know what those moves entail but you said the word fatality, so that sounds a little serious, buddy."

At least that shower had made it so she seemed a little more like herself. Less shaken, more settled. The almost-unnoticeable shiver she'd had before was gone.

"It is. I have to be honest with you, Sarah. Part of me is angry with myself that I didn't just follow him and body tackle him into the ground then and there."

Her eyes flashed, concern and even a bit of frustration in her face. And then she put her hand on his chest, her fingers curling against his shirt as she shook her head. "Chuck, don't say that. Please never do something like that. He had a gun. He would've killed you."

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

"I-I'm not trying to make it seem like you're weak or incapable, baby. I'm really not. Just—Listen to me. I'm trained in combat, I have extensive training and years of experience using guns. I had a gun with me, as well as the knives I always have strapped to me. Hey, look at me. Please." She put her good hand on the side of his face and pulled his eyes back to hers. "I was nearly powerless in there. He had me, Chuck. If he hadn't slipped, let his guard down for that one second…" Her voice drifted off. "My point is that someone trained, like me, could have easily died doing whatever it is you might've done in that moment instead of what you ended up doing." She stroked her hand through his curls. "Which was the right thing."

"I know." He gently slid his hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer. "It just felt…terrible. Watching him go in there, knowing you were about to have him burst in on you. And knowing now what he ended up doing, that you were hurt and Brown was shot. What if I could've stopped all of it?"

"What if you couldn't have but you tried anyway and ended up being shot yourself?" Her eyes searched his. He couldn't come up with an answer to that. "What would I do, then? What would I even do if you were shot, Chuck? I can't even begin to think…" She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. And he held her tighter.

"I ran away from you. I left you behind."

"You saved my life," she said in a much steadier voice, her features hard, willing him to understand. "What you ended up doing wasn't just the right thing, Chuck, it was incredibly brave."

He winced a little. "It didn't feel very brave."

"You could've let your worry for me, your fear, overtake you and you could've run after him, tried to stop him, and ended up getting all of us killed…but instead you called the police, knowing that they'd have more of a chance of stopping him than you ever would. And you went to get Casey involved, which…" She paused. "Why did you get Casey?" She blinked, her brow furrowed as though the question had just struck her at that moment.

Chuck swallowed thickly. "I was afraid they'd believe the wrong person unless you had someone they trusted vouching for you. And I knew Casey would be the perfect person to be there for that."

She beamed at him so suddenly that his heart felt like an insane amount of weight had been taken off of it. And then she hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back similarly. "You're brave and brilliant, Chuck Bartowski."

He felt so much pride in that moment, hearing how proud she was of him, how grateful she was, how impressed she was, in her voice, feeling it in the way she squeezed him, kissed his cheek.

"And you're a bad ass and the best, Sarah Walker. So I guess we make a good pair. Maybe I can be your assistant."

"No," she giggled, kissing his cheek again and then pulling back. "I will let you take care of me, though."

"Oh, gladly," he said with as much warmth as he was capable of, and then he gently pushed her to sit in the chair at the table and went to grab a bowl, putting some warm water and soap in it, then wandering back with that and a cloth in hand.

He scooted close to her and let her drape her hand over the bowl as he silently cleaned the cuts that didn't look so bad now that she'd showered. She only winced a little at the cuts on her wrist when he was gently rubbing ointment over them, and then he wrapped a light bandage around all of it.

"I look like the bride of Frankenstein's monster," she said with a giggle once he finished.

"She wishes," Chuck answered, watching as Sarah turned her arm a bit to look at his work. "What?" he asked when she gave him a quiet, searching look.

"You did a pretty good job here, actually."

That made him smile. "Listen, I grew up with a big sister who's wanted to be a doctor ever since she found out what a doctor was. Do you know how often I got wrapped up in bandages through all the years I spent under the same roof as her?"

She laughed. "Was it often?"

"Often enough." He chuckled. "She got better at it when she was actually in med school and I guess I picked up some things, little tricks of the trade. Don't ask me to stitch a wound shut, though, because I will faint."

Sarah snorted. "That's cute."

"Is it?" he drawled dubiously. He got up then and straightened his back, feeling a few pops, then put the bowl away, the bandages and the first aid kit, and when he came back out, Sarah had finished her martini.

She held the glass up towards him and pouted a little.

"Another?" he asked, receiving a smile in return. He chuckled and took her glass, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then went back to the kitchen to make her another. "Hey, you want a flavor in it this time? Maybe some lime? I saw a lime in your fridge."

Sarah was standing next to him suddenly—those cat-like silent feet of hers—and he nearly jumped. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak." He shrugged at her wince. "You just…You've never put flavors in a martini for me before. It's always just been a traditional, perfectly dry martini. What's gotten into my Chuck?"

"If you want me to make it like I always do, I can." He shrugged again. She was looking at him steadily, that look of hers that saw right through him. And he sighed. "It has nothing to do with the martini, but-but I guess today sort of put into perspective for me that you're not…"

"What?"

"Immortal. Indestructible." His throat was dry then and he looked away, swallowing.

"Did you…think I was? Like some kind of comic book character?"

"No. Of course not." He sniffed in amusement. "But what you do is dangerous and it's something I'm going to have to come to terms with. I hadn't before this because I guess I…haven't had to yet. But I have to now."

"Chuck, I'm okay."

"I know you are. So am I. We're okay. And that's not something that's gonna change, no matter how many ManFatales try to take you away from me."

Sarah smirked at that and gave him a side-eye. "No fucking way anybody is taking me away from you. And vice versa," she added, pointing at him a bit threateningly.

"I didn't just mean romantically." He chuckled. "I meant…uh…you know."

"Oh." She sobered significantly. "That, too. And yeah…maybe this time we can try some lime in the martini. I have some pineapple slices, too. Maybe some of the juice…?"

"Splendid idea," he said, giving her a warm smile. And they stood side by side as he prepared more martinis for them to enjoy.

They eventually found their way to Sarah's bed, stretching themselves out over it and leaning back against her headboard. She'd since fallen asleep, her harrowing ordeal earlier on in the day knocking her out soon after she curled herself up on his chest.

He just held onto her, looking down into her face. She looked younger when she was asleep, so at peace, without any worries to speak of. But then his eyes latched onto her wrapped hand and wrist that was slung over his chest and he frowned.

She was a private investigator. And as awesome as it was, as hot as it was that he was dating someone so damn cool, he couldn't let himself forget how serious it was, too. How serious it could be. He'd never want her to give up what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be, so that he had better peace of mind when she went to work, the way the boyfriend of an accountant might. His girlfriend wasn't going to stop being a private investigator, whether he was awful enough to want her to or not.

And so…Chuck Bartowski was determined instead to support her. To be here on the hard days like today. To protect her when she needed him to. To bandage her cuts, hold her, make her martinis, and let her fall asleep in his arms.

Because being with Sarah Walker, P.I. was so much better than being with some accountant who sat in an office all day. The worry, the nerves, the adrenaline, and even the fear, were all worth it because she was worth anything and everything.

This was her, he realized, looking down into her face.

These cases with genuinely bad dudes wanting to do her harm because she was good at her job, because she was working to take them down, were all part of what made her…her. The danger, the chase, the high stakes…that was all part of her.

He loved her.

That included everything that made her who she was. That included this. And those moments of fear, the danger…

No matter what this career of hers brought them, this wouldn't ever change. He was ready for the bumps and bruises he'd get in the meantime himself. He was ready for the hurdles and hardships ahead. He thought he was ready for just about anything.

Because this was their life now.

And he wouldn't trade it for the whole universe.

#The Detective and the Tech Guy #DATG #Thin Man Chuck #Thin Man Charah #chuck #charah #chuck x sarah #otp: sometimes the nerd gets the girl #Chuck Bartowski #Sarah Walker #tech guy!Chuck #detective!Sarah #chuck fic #charah fic #chuck fanfiction #charah fanfiction #charah fan fiction #John Casey #chuck AU #charah AU #AU #AU fic #AU fanfiction #Thin Man AU #Thin Man fic #NBC Chuck #tv: chuck #crossover AU #crossover fic

[danfanciesphil]

L’Histoire Française (Five Years Later) (NSFW)

Happy Nearly-New Year! This is a gift that I know a lot of you have been waiting for, I really hope it lives up to your expectations. Those of you that read and loved this fic mean a great deal to me, as this one is particularly close to my heart. You deserve a treat, and here it is! 

I love you all very much, and here’s to a fab 2019. 

Ellen xx

(L’Histoire Française Masterlist)

(TRANSLATION OF THE FRENCH IN THIS CHAPTER)

(Ao3 LINK)

Not Quite The Louvre

June 2022

The restaurant is one Dan has never set foot in, but admired from afar, the way he might admire one of Tyler’s designer suits, or Louise’s newborn - intensely, but with an awareness that it’s very much Not For Him. He walks through the large doors that sit beneath a calligraphic sign reading ‘Gilted’, already deeply concerned about what lies beyond them. From the name, this place promises extravagance, and from the moment Dan steps inside, this is just what it delivers. A wiry, angular woman at a small desk greets him, and immediately summons a young man to take his coat. The young man is wearing a pale green suit jacket, as are all of the other wait staff, which Dan admires for its quirkiness, but is also unnerved by. Is this some new, hipster trend that he’s unaware of? Is he outdated in his plain black suit? Or is it just the restaurant trying to distinguish themselves in some way? As his coat is being dealt with, Dan peers into the dining area, noting a lot of green decoration to match the waiters, including masses of tropical plants spreading their enormous leaves and vines throughout the tables. The walls are a distressed emerald, and plastered in enormous mirrors, which also cover much of the ceiling. Instantly, Dan is gobsmacked by the opulence, and fears for his wallet, which is about to get a pummelling, he can tell.

“Do you have a reservation, Sir?” the angular lady asks, one thin eyebrow arched. Dan tugs on his own boring suit jacket; he gets the distinct impression that she can smell inferiority on him.

“Yes,” Dan replies, cheeks warm. “I think it’s under Lester?”

The woman nods stiffly, then gazes down at her iPad, which has its own pale green cover, and the word ‘Gilted’ etched on in swirly gold. A nice touch, Dan can’t help but think. The woman pauses, then taps the screen, and locks it. She nods to Dan, marginally more amiable now that she knows he’s not some imposter.

“Right this way, Sir.”

She leads him through the maze of tables, of which there seem to be hundreds, scattered across a huge ballroom with vaulted ceilings, and a mezzanine balcony, accessible via an enormous spiralling staircase. Dan swallows, thinking again of his poor bank account, which has no idea of the violent assault headed its way. The woman takes him to a four person table in the centre of the room, underneath a chandelier so large Dan is astounded it can be safe, suspended as it is above his head.

“Enjoy your meal, gentlemen,” the woman says, and Dan nods awkwardly, mumbles a thank you, and sits down.

“Hi,” Dan says as he slides into his seat, and meets the gaze of the person opposite him. “Phil’s going to be late.”

Tyler’s mouth falls open, gasping dramatically. “The scoundrel.” 

“He already texted to tell us,” Teddy says, and Dan relaxes a bit. It’s warm in here, not unpleasantly so, but as Dan is already uncomfortable, it feels stifling. He can’t help but think that it would be far easier to relax if Phil were beside him. “So,” Teddy continues, his fingers lacing together on the table in front of him. “Shall we get straight to it?”

Dan freezes, hackles immediately up, sniffing danger misting off of Teddy’s words. He looks between his two friends, trying and failing, as he always does, to decipher the mischievous look in their eyes. 

“What?” he asks carefully.

“Well Dan,” Tyler jumps in, suspiciously keen to answer. “I know you’re not one for deep thought, but what do you think the reason might be that your other half might have summoned us here tonight?”

“I hardly think Phil suggesting we all go for dinner counts as a summons,” Dan says, though truthfully, Tyler’s implication stirs the butterflies that have already begun awakening in Dan’s belly. 

Teddy’s left hand spreads itself atop Tyler’s, rather obviously. Dan tries not to roll his eyes as Teddy’s fingers waggle, making the large, princess cut diamond on his ring finger sparkle under the chandelier lights.

“Guys,” Dan says in his warning tone, which, granted, is about as terrifying as a guinea pig squeaking. “It’s just a catch-up dinner because you guys are gonna be on your cruise over my birthday next week.”

“Mmhmm,” Teddy says, sipping from his water glass. “In a restaurant expensive enough to bankrupt all four of us with the tasting menu.”

“It’s funny isn’t it,” Tyler muses to the general vicinity, leaning back in his chair. “That what with your parents being on the other side of the world, there’s nobody whose approval Phil could seek if he were inclined to, say... pop the question.”

“Oh, no, Ty,” Teddy says before Dan can object to that loaded statement, patting Tyler’s hand. They share an amused smile. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh no?” Tyler asks, theatrically.

“I think if I were Phil,” Teddy says. “In place of his actual guardians, I’d turn to Dan’s closest pals. The people he’s been closest to for most of his adult life, his mentors, his confidantes-”

Dan snorts loudly, and a nearby waiter shoots him a disapproving glare. “Kim and Kanye couldn’t make it, unfortunately.”

“D-list imitations compared to us, darling,” Tyler says, grinning. He’s wearing an irritatingly smug, patronising expression that Dan is very familiar with. “Come on, Dan. The set up is so obvious even you shouldn’t be able to miss it. He’s probably pacing the pavement outside right now, rehearsing his proposal speech.”

“He’s late because he had to supervise detention today,” Dan mutters, though beneath the table, his hands wring the cloth napkin.

Luckily, a waiter approaches then, and Tyler is distracted, demanding the wine list, and a round of nibbles and G & T’s to start them off. Dan turns his attention to his phone while the waiter reels off the various gins available.

From: Dan To: Phil omg please hurry up im about to commit a double homicide x

Ten seconds later, he gets a response.

From: Phil To: Dan no fair. you promised if you ever murdered them that i could help :( im four mins away. steer clear of the silverware. xx

From: Dan To: Phil no promises x

“Darling, I know the etiquette expected from this sort of establishment is a little beyond you, but texting at the dinner table really is terribly rude,” Tyler says, giving him a level glare.

“Sorry,” Dan mutters, though he doesn’t mean it. He pockets his phone reluctantly, noting that the waiter has once again disappeared. “This place is too fancy for me.”

“I must say,” Teddy says, thoughtfully. He’s gazing around at the other patrons, clinking silver cutlery against china dishes, their bleached white teeth clacking against crystal glasses of Merlot. “I was a little surprised at the venue Phil chose to to do this.”

“To do what? Teddy, Phil is not going to-”

“Yes, I thought the same,” Tyler says animatedly, turning to his husband. “That man’s so off-the-wall in every other respect, you’d think he’d have conjured up some extravagant, personalised proposal scene in a lego version of the Eiffel Tower or something ridiculous. Not a restaurant so posh it almost makes me feel uneasy.” He sips water again. “Almost.”

“For God’s sake,” Dan near-snaps, nails pushing into his palms. “Will you stop? It’s just dinner, for God’s sake.”

Something over Dan’s shoulder catches Tyler’s eye, and the smile that spreads over his mouth is somehow both smug and excited. He leans back in his chair, and exchanges a glance with Teddy.

“Uh huh,” Tyler says.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m stupidly late I know,” Phil’s voice says at Dan’s ear. Seconds later, lips are pressed, fleeting and damp, against Dan’s cheek. “Have you already ordered?”

“Just the wine-” Dan starts to say, and then stops short as Phil slips into the chair beside his.

His boyfriend is wearing a suit that Dan has never seen him in before. The jacket is black velvet, with thin, undulating gold thread woven into swirling patterns across the expanse. It’s fitted to his long, lithe body, and hugs his broad shoulders perfectly. Phil’s hair has been trimmed, jaw closely shaven, and a haze of expensive-smelling cologne floats in the air around him. In short, he looks more delicious than anything on the menu, and Dan hasn’t even read it yet.

“Phil, darling, you look so scrumptious that it’s going to be a struggle not to leap across the table and devour you,” Tyler says with a gleeful grin.

Phil laughs politely, scooting his chair in. “Hey, Ty. Teddy. How are you guys?”

Dumbed by the appearance of his boyfriend, who earlier this morning had had to run out of the house without showering to get to work on time, Dan can only stare. He feels underdressed beside this deity. A pale, unworthy companion for someone so beautiful, in a place so beautiful to match. Dan is wearing a suit as well, sure, but it’s just the same one he always wears, black and tight-fitting, possibly a little on the small side, especially noticeable from how it exposes his ankles.

“We’re wonderful, my dear,” Tyler answers for both of them.

“I’ve been trying to get around to finally divorcing him, but he keeps distracting me with blowjobs,” Teddy says in a sigh.

At that moment, a slightly flustered waiter coughs from the end of the table, holding a bottle of expensive-looking red wine. “Y-your Rijoca, gentlemen.”

Tyler claps his hands excitedly. “I’ll do the tasting, garcçon.” He pushes his glass towards the waiter, who pours a drop in.

Whilst Tyler sniffs and sips pretentiously, Dan leans towards Phil as discreetly as he can. “You look absolutely amazing,” Dan says, still dazed. “Should I have dressed up more?”

Phil gives him a warm, fond smile which spreads, like treacle, through Dan’s entire body, until he can feel it in his toes. “Dan, tu es toujours la plus belle personne dans la pièce.”

A bunch of pink, sun-warmed flowers bloom in Dan’s cheeks. “Merci,” he mumbles. “But seriously-”

“The bouquet is divine Phil,” Tyler announces, gesturing for the waiter to fill everyone’s glasses. “Try, try. Is that not simply magnifique?”

Phil takes his glass, thanking the waiter, and sips politely. “Yeah, it’s delicious,” he says. “Well picked.” He turns his attention back to the waiter. “Um, excusé-moi monsieur, nous voudrons un boutéille de champagne aussi, s’il vous plaît.”

“Assurément, monsieur.”

“Oh? Are we celebrating?” Teddy asks in a knowing voice, chin resting atop his interlaced fingers. His eyes glimmer, though it could be the reflection on his superfluous, hipster spectacles.

“We are,” Phil confirms once the waiter has disappeared off. The three of them wait for Phil to continue, but he simply sips Rijoca, and pretends to be intrigued by the décor. Just as Tyler’s big mouth opens, clearly intent on prompting a further explanation, Phil clears his throat loudly, and opens his menu with a flourish. “So! What are we having? French cuisine can be a somewhat hit and miss. Do you think you’ll be alright finding something you like?”

Reluctantly, Dan turns his attention to his own menu, though his heart has started to thump distractingly beneath his shirt. He feels as if he might need to remove his suit jacket soon, or else rivers of sweat will begin pouring out of his sleeves. That might put Phil off whatever it is he has planned. Not that Phil is necessarily planning anything. This could, still, just be a normal, catch-up meal between friends. Where everyone is dressed to the nines for no reason, and champagne is being placed on standby, and the very air itself tastes decadent.

The menu is entirely in French, and despite the lessons he’s been taking for the past three years, and despite Phil’s steady stream of dirty talk and sweet nothings in the language, Dan cannot understand a word in front of him. Then again, even if the menu was in layman’s English, Dan doubts very much that the words would seep into his mushy brain.

“Hmm, what’s cuisses de grenouilles?” Tyler asks, peering at his own menu.

Phil hides a smile behind his wine glass. “Frog’s legs.”

Tyler shuts the menu sharply. “Right, think I’ll stick to the salade.”

“I can never resist a French Onion Soup,” Teddy says with a conspiratorial smile. “Just don’t tell my health-freak husband how much oil and cheese they pour in.”

Tyler immediately begins Googling this on his phone, which starts a quiet, whispered argument on the other side of the table. Phil turns to Dan; there’s no mistaking the hidden twinkle in his eye, unsuccessfully being held back, perhaps until the champagne arrives. 

Phil’s eyebrow lifts. “Dan?”

“Y-yes?”

His heart is pounding against his chest, as if it wants to break free and launch itself onto Phil’s plate.

“What are you going to have?” Phil asks, nodding towards his menu. God, he looks phenomenal, Dan can’t help but think. In the low, warm lighting, surrounded by pastel green, Phil is a waterlily in bloom. He puts Monet’s Nympheas to shame, and Dan saw those right up close, too. “Do you need me to translate anything?”

“N-no,” Dan says, mesmerised. He swallows, quietly, and tears his gaze away. Oh, God. Is his entire life about to turn upside down at the sight of one fold of a bended knee? “I’ll just have the, uh,” he casts about the thick ivory page for something vaguely recognisable. “The ratatouille.”

“Are you sure?” Phil asks, frowning. “I think they have galettes. They’re like savoury pancakes. You like pancakes.”

“No, really,” Dan assures him, stomach roiling at the idea of attempting to digest a flappy, doughy pancake right now. He lifts his glass of wine to his lips and pours about half of it down his throat. “I’m in a, uh, tomatoey mood.”

“What a romantic sentiment,” Tyler mutters to Teddy. 

“He can treasure it forever,” Teddy replies, luckily too low to be overheard by Phil. Even so, Dan kicks both of them in the shin.

The waiter returns with an ice bucket and champagne, and Phil orders for everyone in his fluent, silken French. Dan is on edge, certain now that he is about to be jumped with some monumental romantic gesture that he is entirely unprepared to deal with. It all feels overwhelming - the glitz, the alcohol, the unrecognisable, expensive food -  but he tries to cling to the presence of Phil beside him, safe and comforting even gussied up as he is.

Is this how it always is? Is the proposer supposed to fire the question out of the blue, giving the proposee no time at all to rehearse or prepare? He supposes in all the films he’s seen, the woman is always totally caught off-guard by the sight of her man kneeling before her. Dan’s always been pretty cynical about this however, thinking she must have had some sort of inclination. 

Before he can dwell any further, the food arrives amidst casual chatter about jobs and grievances, and Teddy and Tyler’s usual guilt tripping about Dan having “abandoned them to go and live in sin with his French lover.”

“It was three years ago,” Dan says to Teddy. “I think possibly it’s time to forgive me.”

“We should really be angry at Frenchie, of course, for snatching you away,” Tyler says, studying a tomato on his fork with scrutiny. “But who could stay mad at those chiselled features?”

“You do know I’m not actually French, don’t you?” Phil asks, though he’s laughing good-naturedly, playing with the stuffed aubergine on his plate. “And hey, without Dan there I bet it was great that you could have sex in any room of the house, before you moved into your new place, obviously.”

“Never stopped us before,” Teddy mutters and Dan throws a napkin at him.

By the time dessert is over with, the red wine has been drained, and the champagne is finally lifted from the ice bucket, Dan has almost forgotten what he’d been worried about. The wine in Dan’s bloodstream is creating a pleasant, blurred hum around their table. It even makes Tyler’s loud, boisterous chatter just the right side of tolerable.

“So,” Phil says in a louder voice than he has been speaking, and reaches to pluck the unopened champagne from Teddy’s hands. “I have something I’d like to announce.”

Instantly Dan’s heart leaps into his throat. Tyler and Teddy exchange a look loaded with something like ‘here it comes’. Phil turns to Dan, and reaches for his hand. Dan lets him take it, limply, and tries to focus on the words about to come from his boyfriend’s mouth; in the thousand ways he’d imagined Phil might do this, he always knew he’d need to remember everything he said. Phil’s always been a master of language, wielding it like a sword in the hands of a medieval Knight.

“Dan,” Phil says. “There’s a reason I wanted us all to be here tonight.”

Dan takes a deep breath. “O-oh, okay.”

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” Phil says, unexpectedly. “There are things I want to ask you, in the future, but that’s not what this is. You should know, by now, that I love you more than anything. I see a future for us, a long and happy future, and that’s why I think we don’t need to be swearing it to one another with rings just yet.”

“I…” Dan frowns, looking towards Teddy and Tyler. Their expressions are unreadable; they look excited, brimming with some secret thing Dan is perplexed by. “Wait, so you’re... not proposing?”

Phil smiles sweetly, and squeezes Dan’s hand. “No.” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a key. There’s a keyring attached, in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. On it, Dan can see silver lettering, though he can’t read what it says. “I thought about it. I’m always thinking about it, honestly. Of course I want to be married to you. But before we splash out on a big wedding, I think it’s important for us to get to a place, individually, where we’re happy in ourselves.”

Dan’s heart squeezes. He knows that somewhere in that speech Phil said he loves him. That he wants to be married to him someday, even. But all Dan hones in on is the word ‘individually’. He and Phil have tried individually. It had been, and remains to this day, the worst period of Dan’s life, trying to extricate himself from Phil, after he’d known the touch of him, the closeness. Surely Phil cannot be suggesting they do that again - try some new-age method of spending some time apart to ‘find themselves’ before committing? Phil turns Dan’s hand over then, distracting him, so his palm faces up, and drops the key into it. Bemused, Dan brings it to his face, squinting at the words written on it.

La Cerise Galerie, 234 Lipton Avenue

He recognises the name. It’s a gallery Dan used to like visiting from time to time, smallish, and independent, run by a French couple with a passion for the romantics and the impressionists. Unfortunately, the couple, Madame and Monsieur Cerise, decided to put the gallery on the market a few months ago to go and travel the world on an extended retirement trip. They were clearly wealthy from some unknown source, the gallery just being something they did on the side. Sadly, the pretty mansionette that the gallery was in, with its white, modern, square exterior, and neat gardens, has since remained empty. 

“I don’t understand,” Dan says, feeling as if he’s stood on the edge of some tall, sheer cliff in high winds.

“He never was the brightest bulb, Phil,” Tyler says in a stage whisper. “You may need to spell it out for the poor dear.”

“It’s yours, Dan,” Phil says, inexplicably. “I bought it. Well, almost. I’ve had a a little help.” Phil shoots a meaningful look towards Tyler, who lifts his glass, smiling. “You need to sign the deed for it, and I have to finalise some stuff. But it’s yours if you agree, Dan. I picked the key up on my way here. And now I’m giving it to you.”

Dan stands from his chair, making it screech across the wooden floor. He can barely breathe; he knew this suit jacket was too small for him. The key sits weightily in his palm, loaded with all that it represents.

“Phil” Dan says, shaking his head. He wants to hurl the keys across the room. “You can’t do this. This is... mad.” He looks at Tyler, who is wearing a fascinated expression, as if Dan’s reaction is a scene in a teledrama. “Ty... you knew about this?”

The room is rocking violently, side to side beneath Dan’s feet. Tyler nods, sipping wine. “Of course. Phil and I have been in the process of purchasing the place for weeks.”

“But earlier... you were hinting he was gonna propose!” 

Teddy laughs then, clearly thoroughly enjoying this crazy scene as much as Tyler. “We had to throw you off the scent, obviously.”

Well, Dan thinks, they sure managed that. Dan feels utterly blindsided by this, can’t even wrap his head around something so absurd. The keys in his hand are dragging him to the floor as the responsibility they drip with mounts. Being a property owner of any description at his age is something far out of Dan’s expectation, let alone the owner of his own gallery. Carefully, as if he’s approaching a wild, skittish deer, Phil places his napkin on the table, and stands too. He holds his hands out to Dan, wary of spooking him.

“Let me explain,” Phil says, or Dan thinks that’s what he says; his heart is pounding so loudly it’s nearly drowning out the words. He takes Phil’s hands anyway, if only to ensure he doesn’t topple over. A few heads have turned towards them from nearby tables, presumably because Dan standing up and clearly on the verge of a panic attack is not the usual spectacle for a place like this. “I want you to be happy, Dan,” Phil is saying, somewhere on the horizon. “I want to see you flourish, and grow. I’m so, so grateful you decided to apply for a TA position five years ago, I truly am. But I know it’s not the path you’d have chosen, if you could.” He pats the keys in Dan’s hand. “This, right here, is what you want. I’m lucky enough to love what I do. All I want is for you to feel the way I do each morning, when you get in to work.”

Glassy-eyed, Dan just stares at Phil. He looks down at the keys in his hand again, and slowly curls his fingers around them, just to feel the cold, slim weight of them, and test out the idea that they belong to him.

“It’s too much,” Dan whispers, trying to remember the asking price painted onto the sun-faded For Sale sign in the front lawn of the gallery. Even with Phil’s additional new research-job at the University in the next town over, he’s can’t be earning enough to afford this. “We can’t afford it.”

“I loaned Phil what he couldn’t reasonably stretch to,” Tyler says then, dropping this snippet of information with far too much nonchalance. “My promotion has given me a salacious new salary. Teddy and I already bought the dream home last year, and had the big wedding. We thought about getting one of those abandoned infants from China shipped over, but on balance, this seemed more of a priority.”

“Tyler, no,” Dan says, coldly. “I don’t want a handout. I’m working full time, and I’m doing the teacher-training course. In a few years I’ll be a qualified English teacher, I don’t need-”

“Your dreams are always worth a shot,” Teddy interrupts, then reaches out, and pops the champagne. “Even if it’s just one shot, with everything you have. Besides, you’ll never persuade Ty out of it. He’s a regular sugar daddy now. Buys his way out of everything. Cooking dinner, doing the dishes, return blowjobs-”

As if to prove this point, Tyler whips out a few banknotes from some pocket in his immaculate suit and throws them into Teddy’s face. “Twenty pounds to shut your cute trap, darling.”

Suddenly exhausted from the overwhelm, Dan sits back down, heavily. Phil follows suit, watching Dan with scrutiny.

“I know it seems like a lot,” Phil says softly, one hand on Dan’s shoulder. “But it seemed… right. I was on my way to the jewellery store to get you some fancy ring, and I drove past the gallery on my way. And I got this feeling in my gut, a familiar feeling that I couldn’t quite place. So I drove on, and then I realised - it’s the same feeling I had when you walked into my classroom that first day. A kind of static buzz, exciting and hopeful. Like all the atoms around me just aligned.”

A lump, huge and insistent, aches in Dan’s throat, making his eyes water. “I won’t be able to repay you. Not for years.”

“I think I speak for Phil and myself when I say that the only repayment we need right now, is for you to give it your best shot,” Tyler says, making Teddy smile at him in that rare, fond, proud way. “Well,” Tyler corrects. “I’m sure Phil wouldn’t mind a grateful blowjob or two as well-”

“He’s right,” Phil interrupts, and Dan raises an eyebrow. “About you not needing to worry about repaying us,” Phil adds quickly, though a smirk has crept onto his face. “You don’t need to decide right now. But I thought we could go and see it after dinner, take a look at least.”

“See it tonight?” Dan asks. His full stomach squeezes and contracts uncomfortably, the ratatouille threatening to make a second appearance. “Um, w-well...”

He looks at Teddy and Tyler, now kissing on the other side of the table. He’s not sure he can take a visit to the potential property of his dreams with them in tow. Phil follows his gaze, then leans towards Dan, smiling.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll tell them seulement nous.”

*

They walk to the restaurant, floaty and slightly swaying from the champagne Dan had forced himself to knock back in celebration. He’s still incredibly unsure about this whole thing, and feels as if either accepting or rejecting the offer would have equally disastrous consequences. Not even taking into consideration how it would disappoint Phil to refuse the gallery, Dan can barely stand to imagine how, in the weeks and possibly years that followed that refusal, he’d slowly be consumed with regret. Phil had been right, earlier - Dan had never wanted this career path, and has only really stayed on it to be near him. But Phil’s career prospects are changing; he’s spending more and more time at the University, and Dan knows it won’t be long until he goes from Assistant History Researcher, to PhD student, to full-fledged History Professor. And then what will Dan’s excuse be for working in a job he has no passion for, with children that are more inclined to fondly mock him than listen to him as an authoritative figure?

Working as a teacher has always been a horrifying thought for Dan, if he’s honest. The only thing that makes it tolerable is knowing that he’ll be able to snatch time with Phil, before class and in class and a bunch of times between. The idea of patrolling the school halls without this prospect is not a fun one. 

And... he has always wanted this. The cute, perfectly situated, small-town gallery. It’s a dream he’s only told a select few about, not even his parents, who would dismiss it as unrealistic. Perhaps their influence was stronger than Dan thought it had been, because never did he expect to actually get his dream, especially not like this, when he’s so young, and only because Phil’s willing to place so much faith in him.

All of this bubbles around with the champagne in Dan’s tipsy brain, until they’re at the door of the gallery, and Dan realises he hasn’t spoken a word to Phil all the way here. Their hands are joined, swinging gently between them. Now, Dan breaks the hold, reaching into his trouser pocket for the key. He looks at Phil before he inserts it into the lock.

“If I decide I can’t do it,” Dan says in a rush, because Phil has to hear it. “If it’s all too much right now, and I’m not ready… I just want to tell you,” he swallows, determined to find the right words, “nobody has ever done anything like this for me. Nobody has ever even listened to me long enough to understand that I dream about this all the time. I don’t think I really understood how much you must love me until now,” Dan confesses, feeling his eyes sting. “I don’t know if I’m quite able to accept something so…” he flaps his hands at the pale grey door of the gallery, with its frosted windows, and neat, quiet sign. “You know. But oh my God. Thank you for this. That doesn’t even begin to cover it. But thank you.”

“That’s okay,” Phil says with a small, pleased smile. “I know it’s big. And maybe I’m doing everything wrong. Maybe I should have proposed first, I don’t know.” He shrugs, eyes travelling to to the sign on the door. “But I know one day, maybe way in the future, but one day, I’ll look over and see a ring on your finger. I know it would make you happy, if I asked you. But I don’t want that to be... what defines you. I don’t want you to just be my partner, who hates his job. I want you to be your best self, and to commit to me knowing you’ll never yearn for more. No pressure, Dan, really. It’s all reversible. But let’s have one teensy, decadent little explore, try out picking which room you’d display what in. It can just be pretend, for now.”

Dan smiles, marvelling as always at Phil knowing just what to say. “Okay,” he agrees, and opens the door.

*

September 2022

“What are you doing here?”

Phil laughs, thankfully, and walks over to kiss him. “Nice to see you too, stranger.’

“Sorry,” Dan says against Phil’s mouth, sagging into his embrace. “My nerves are fraught.”

“Good thing I brought this then,” Phil says, leaning back and pulling out a bottle of cold champagne from the large bag in his hand. “To celebrate your Grande Ouverture, Monsieur.”

Dan smiles weakly, though the phrase makes his heart speed up. “God, don’t call it that. It’s just a small party to let people know I’m here.”

Phil nods seriously, but there’s a glinting smile in the depths of his eyes. That smile hasn’t faded for one moment since Dan announced, after just one tour of the gallery’s rooms, empty of everything but promise, that he’s going to do this. Since that night, Dan has thrown himself into getting it ready, procuring artworks, establishing a name for himself as a young curator with a new space, and it’s all led up to this. Tomorrow night, the Cerise Galerie officially opens, under new ownership. It’s currently eleven o’clock, and Dan’s been working tirelessly since 7am. He’s barely been home all week, in fact. Buffy probably doesn’t even recognise him anymore.

“Sure,” Phil says, then pushes the bottle into Dan’s hands. “Open this will you? I’ve got some plastic glasses in here somewhere.”

Dan watches as Phil sets the bag down, pulls out his zig-zag blanket and spreads it over the floor of the main gallery room. It’s a strange thing to do, probably, but Dan is rarely surprised by Phil’s peculiarities anymore. Phil finds glasses, and then produces a few cartons of Chinese food, and Dan falls in love with him all over again. They eat and drink sat on the blanket together, shoes kicked off, shirts unbuttoned, until Dan feels vaguely normal again, and much less like he’s about to burst into a million shards of stress and worry.

“It looks awesome in here,” Phil says, leant back on his hands as he surveys the walls. The frames are all simple wood, so as not to detract from the paintings within. This room shows the work of three artists, all Ethiopian by birth, who paint about their culture, their current lives in England, and their families, respectively. Dan found each artist separately, and has placed their work in one room, to see how their combined cultural experience compliments each other’s work. “You’re really good at this.” Phil lowers his eyes to meet Dan’s, still glinting. “I knew you would be.”

“Thank you,” Dan says, as sincerely as he can manage. He must have thanked Phil a thousand times by now, a hundred thousand, possibly, both verbally and… non-verbally, but he still feels he needs to stress it again. “Most people wouldn’t get an opportunity to even try. Let’s hope I don’t fuck it up.”

Phil frowns. “I don’t think you could, Dan. But you know if it doesn’t work out, it’s not your fault. This is hardly the best economy to be opening an independent gallery in. If it doesn’t take off like we hope…” Phil shrugs. “Then we’ll chalk it up to experience, and a fun adventure, and try again somewhere down the line.”

Dan nods, grateful for his optimistic practicality. Those two things shouldn’t fit together, but somehow Phil makes it work. Just then, Dan’s elbows give out, shoulders and back screaming at him to release the tension, and he flops back onto the blanket, groaning.

“You alright?” Phil asks around a chuckle, nudging Dan with his knee. “Getting old?”

“Everything aches,” Dan complains, eyes falling shut. “The stress of running my own business has aged me before my time.”

“And you haven’t even opened yet,” Phil teases, but starts to gather up the empty Chinese boxes, moving them into an empty carrier bag. “Turn over, Grandad.”

One of Dan’s eyes opens. “What?”

Phil laughs, eyes crinkling around the edges. This is a rather wonderful vantage point, Dan muses to himself. Phil is knelt up, in just black jeans and his white shirt rolled up at each sleeve. His jet black hair is starting to pepper grey at the shaved sides, which Dan adores, and tells him so frequently. He looks like a man, strong and lean, with the piercing blue eyes of a mythical sea creature, and the mischievous smile of an eighteen year old.

“I said, turn over,” Phil repeats, but this time he winks. Dan thinks about refusing, but that’s never normally a good idea if he wants to get through the night un-spanked. And yes, the idea of being bent over Phil’s knee is tempting, but as he’s got to run around an opening-party tomorrow, he probably needs to not be in pain every time he takes a step. So, Dan turns onto his stomach, intrigued already by what Phil has in mind. Phil crawls over to him then, and straddles Dan, sitting on his bum. He smooths his big hands across Dan’s shoulders and begins to squeeze and knead them; Dan is so caught off-guard by the massage that he sinks heavily into the floor, and groans, making Phil laugh again. “Good?”

“So good,” Dan says, practically drooling. “Your fingers are like wonderful knives.”

“Hmm,” Phil says. “I’m hoping that’s a positive thing.”

“Oh, it is.”

Phil keeps kneading him, knuckles working the knots out one by one, then carving pathways either side of his spine. He works Dan’s hips, the dip of his lower back, slots his fingers between Dan’s ribs and rakes over them. It’s sinfully good, and by the time Phil’s hips grind into his bum for the first time, Dan is so hard he can barely think straight.

Phil climbs off of him, and pulls Dan’s shoulder, encouraging him to turn over until he’s laid on his back again. Dan moves fluidly, easily, perfectly happy to be led by Phil’s desire. He learned long ago to trust that despite the teasing and playful build-up, Phil will always get him there in the end. Phil unbuttons Dan’s shirt, then trails his tongue up the exposed strip of skin between the lapels. He pulls the material aside, revealing a nipple, and closes his lips over it, first softly, and then biting down, hard.

Dan gasps, the sting of pain giving way to the instant tingle of blissful relief that follows it. At first, Dan had been more reluctant to experiment with the duality of pleasure and pain that Phil had slowly revealed he enjoyed. But over time, Dan has dipped his toe deeper and deeper into the waters, and discovered, to his shock, that he actually likes it a lot. Now, five years into their sexual relationship, Dan is no longer shy about his desire, and readily admits to Phil, as he found it so hard to do once, that he wants Phil to hurt him, and then kiss him. To tie him up with ropes that chafe, and then lick soft, warm lines up his neck. To bite his thighs hard enough to mark the skin, and then push slick fingers inside of him so gentle and slow that it takes hours to open him up enough.

Phil has removed Dan’s shirt entirely now, and is currently working his trousers off too. Once they’re thrown aside, he settles between Dan’s thighs, hands roaming over the bare skin on show. His fingers pinch Dan’s nipples, coaxing them into taut pebbles. His nails drag down Dan’s sides, leaving thin white lines across the skin in their wake. Dan just breathes shallowly, trying not to wriggle too much, or gasp too loudly, as he’s not been expressly permitted to do anything except lie here, on his back, and let Phil do as he wants.

“Do you know,” Phil says conversationally, as he runs a teasing, light hand over Dan’s erection, concealed beneath his black briefs. “You’re just as gorgeous as the day I met you.”

“Less cocky, I expect,” Dan replies, and Phil slaps him in the thigh for answering, then strokes the spot.

“A bit, perhaps.”

“You’re more gorgeous,” Dan blurts, at which point two spots of pink burst into each of his cheeks. “Maybe it’s the salt and pepper hair. Or just… happiness. You look magnificent, every day.”

Phil’s hands pause for a moment, and he gives Dan a fond, loving smile. “No more talking now,” he says after a moment, and Dan is sort of glad. Who knows what other schmaltzy nonsense might have seeped out if he were allowed to continue. He tips his head back, and sinks into the sensation of Phil’s hands on him again, and then his mouth, against his briefs, light and teasing with his flicking tongue.

“Lift,” Phil instructs, tapping Dan’s hip.

As he raises his bum from the floor, Phil tugs the briefs down, and then all the way off. He trails one finger along the slightly curved line of Dan’s cock, then scoops the pearl of precome on his fingertip, and deposits it into his mouth. He takes Dan’s thighs in each hand then, and pushes them upwards, until Dan’s near bent in half. Practiced at this by now, Dan knows to wrap his own hands around them, and hold himself like this, so he does.

“Bon,” Phil whispers, offhandedly, and presses a kiss to Dan’s left foot.

There’s a pause before anything else happens, and staring up at the ceiling as he is, Dan can’t tell why. If he had to guess, however, he’d say that Phil was in the process of removing his own clothes, and the thought of it makes Dan ache, in the centre of his chest. It’s a struggle not to lift his head, and see the slow reveal of Phil’s naked body with his own two eyes. Eventually, Phil is back, and Dan feels lips against the backs of his thighs, making his cock twitch in anticipation.

“Ne jouir pas,” Phil says, firmly, shortly before taking one of Dan’s balls into his mouth.

He does the same to the other, and right away Dan is not convinced he will be able to follow Phil’s instruction. Phil’s tongue trails down, not going the way Dan expected, and he groans, deep and long, sensing the impending development before it happens. His cock remains untouched and flushed a deep pink, Phil’s mouth moving to areas further south. He licks between Dan’s cheeks in one unbroken line, then places a hand on each, and begins to swirl the tip of that tongue around Dan’s rim.

Dan’s face is hot, and probably bright red. Each movement of Phil’s tongue against him sparks a dozen electric pulses through his whole body, along with that delicious, hot sluice of shame that comes from being so vulnerable, from doing something ‘taboo’. If Dan turns his head to the left, he can see a painting he loved from the moment he set eyes on it, of a wild desert, over which a string of bunting hangs, displaying the Ethiopian flag, and beside it, the Pride flag.

“Fuck,” Dan lets slip as Phil’s tongue inches its way inside him.

He’s relentless at this, and saves it for special occasions because he knows Dan goes mad for it. When he does press his tongue there, he is slow and teasing, and can spend hours at it, driving Dan to the brink of ecstasy, and sometimes over the brink, if Dan is out of practice at staying in control. He highly suspects this might be one of those times.

His hips dance and shift, pushing into the feel of Phil against him, all warm wet mouth, and insistent, flicking tongue. “Fuck, Phil,” Dan moans, breathless. “Y-you’ll have to stop if you don’t want me to-”

Phil’s hand draws back and then lands with a slap on Dan’s right cheek, loud enough that it echoes around the room. He draws back to look at Dan between his thighs, lips slick, cheeks flushed. “Ne jouir pas,” he repeats. “And no talking, either.”

Then he dives back in, leaving Dan struggling and gasping, eyes fixed to the ceiling, trying desperately to think of the most non-arousing objects he can conjure up. A teapot. A wheelbarrow. Phil’s socks on the table. Phil’s tongue against his ass-

“Unngh, God,” Dan groans, and then, miraculously, and awfully, Phil moves away. There’s a smirk twisting his lips, and he reaches for the champagne bottle, taking a cheeky swig. Dan lifts an eyebrow, but dares say nothing.

“Très bon,” Phil says approvingly, then offers him the bottle. Dan shakes his head carefully, sensing a trap, and Phil laughs. “Hey, I brought it for us to share, no tricks.” Still, Dan refuses, too aroused to contemplate trying something as mundane as drinking, and Phil shrugs, setting it down. He’s in only his pants now, Dan notes, which are doing a poor job of concealing how hard he is beneath them. He climbs back on top of Dan, takes both of his wrists in either hand, and pins them above his head, smiling. “If I told you to keep your hands here, would you?”

At once, Dan nods, eagerly.

“Alright,” Phil says, leaning down to give him a slow, explorative kiss. When it’s over, he releases Dan’s wrists, and tilts his hips forwards, pressing their groins together. Even through the fabric of Phil’s underwear, Dan’s eyes roll back at how good it feels, to have some friction against his tortured erection at last. “I’m going to let you fuck me,” Phil says, as if he’s telling Dan he’s bought Buffy more dog food. “And you’re not to move your hands.”

Dan’s eyes widen. There’s absolutely no doubt in his mind that he is not strong enough to achieve this feat, but to say so might mean it won’t happen, so he stays silent. His heart races, watching as Phil finds his suit jacket a few feet away, and rummages in the pocket for a hidden bottle of lubricant. Dan wonders if he’s got any other exciting objects in there, but doesn’t dare ask.

So Dan is forced to watch, silent and unmoving, as Phil tilts up onto his knees above Dan, shucks off his underwear, and reaches between his legs to insert two lube-slicked fingers inside himself. It’s utter torture, and Dan’s eyes sting from how badly he wishes he could reach up and touch, bite, kiss, claim him. But he does none of this, just watching, mind blurred from lust, as the Adonis above him prepares himself for Dan.

“D’accord,” Phil says after what seems like centuries. “Je suis prêt. Ne bougez pas.”

Don’t move. As if that’s even a possibility, Dan thinks as Phil adjusts their positions, and then carefully sinks down onto Dan’s cock. It’s blinding, and consuming, like a meteor dazzling across his vision, obscuring everything else. Burrowing into Phil’s tight, warm body is akin to no other sensation. Dan feels sounds slipping from his mouth, feels tremors undulating through him, and still Phil engulfs him in a slow, steady swallow, until Dan has bottomed out entirely, and Phil is speared on his cock.

“Oh, for the love of fuck, please move,” Dan begs. Maybe it’s because Dan’s been so stressed, or because despite talking aloud, and making demands no less, he hasn’t actually moved his hands from where Phil pinned them. Whatever the reason, Phil does start to move his hips, in small increments at first, shifting up and down, and then gradually increasing the speed. “Oh, fuck. Oh, God.”

It’s when Phil shifts his angle, and then tips his head back to gasp, that Dan can’t help himself. His hands fly out to grab at Phil’s thighs, to feel his hips shift as he moves them. Seconds later, he remembers that this is not allowed. Despite his own flush, and the glassiness of his eyes, Phil is coherent enough to recognise that Dan has broken the rules, and grabs him by the hands, pinning them up above his head again. This time, he holds them there as his hips work, pulling Dan to the precipice of a cliff with each thrust downwards, grinding himself onto Dan’s cock. It’s Phil’s moans that throw him over the edge. It’s the flutter of his eyes, the slackening of his mouth as the tip of Dan’s erection grazes his prostate. He is a corrupted angel, fallen into iniquity, and Dan cannot bear the sight of it. He cries out as he comes, hips pushing himself as far into Phil as he can manage.

As his body slackens, the tremors slowing and stilling, Dan relaxes into the blanket beneath them, shuddering as the aftershocks ebb through him. He looks down; Phil hasn’t come - looks as if he intended to resist all along - and extricates himself from Dan carefully.

“You broke the rules,” Phil says, making Dan’s spent cock twitch again. “You moved your hands.”

Dan’s mouth is dry, but he manages, “I’m sorry.”

“Tu veux me faire jouir?” Phil asks, and Dan’s heart skips a beat, as it always does when Phil talks to him this way. Filthy and unabashed, not even a light flush against his pale skin. Dan nods, emphatically, and Phil’s smile grows wide. “Trente secondes.”

At once, Dan jumps to attention, leaping for Phil’s lap with such enthusiasm that Phil can’t help but laugh. It’s a kind punishment, really, as Phil is well aware by now how much Dan absolutely loves sucking him off. Before Phil, he’d never have dreamed he’d find it so pleasurable, but now he can’t get enough of it. Phil jokes, from time to time, that he’s more at home at floor level than Buffy is.

In the many, many opportunities Phil readily gives him to indulge himself in his favourite activity, Dan has gotten… pretty fucking good at it, if he does say so himself. He knows Phil’s tells, can switch techniques expertly just by listening to the shift in Phil’s breathing. But thirty seconds to make him come is a tall order, particularly as Dan prefers to draw it out.

Nevertheless, he does his best, head bobbing, keeping a tight seal around the girth of him, using one hand to meet his lips as he sinks down. Before he knows it though, Phil is tapping him on the back of the head.

“T-time’s up,” he says, sounding a little breathless himself. In the second that follows, Dan makes a snap decision. He continues sucking, tongue laving at him as he goes. He doesn’t bother wiping the spit that drips from his lips, and doesn’t respond when Phil taps him again, and says, “Dan. That’s thirty seconds- oh, oh merde.”

Dan can feel the give in him, can sense when he decides to just abandon that incredible willpower he has and let Dan pull him off the cliff as well. Phil plummets down into the ocean of bliss beneath, flooding Dan’s mouth with his release, and groaning loudly, his hands tangling in Dan’s hair. He swears several times in French, and then releases Dan, letting him slide off.

Dan sends him a sheepish, but pleased, look as he wipes his chin. “Sorry,” Dan says, and doesn’t mean it for a moment. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Bitte salope,” Phil says, but fondly, teasingly, and reaches his arms out wide, so Dan tackles him to the floor. “I’ll have to punish you again,” Phil says, trailing his fingers through Dan’s curls. “But I guess it can wait until after your big fancy opening.”

“Very gracious of you,” Dan says, laughing, then sighs happily, pressing lips to Phil’s chest. “I needed that. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Phil replies with a giggle. “It’s very taxing for me, obviously. But for you, anything.”

Dan swats him gently. “If you weren’t so hot and great in bed, you’d probably be a right pain.”

“Je t’aime aussi, chaton.”

*

In the middle of the party, just as Dan is about to grab one of the wait staff he hired and ask him why he’s been having to top up his own wine glass all night, a familiar, loud and obnoxious voice booms out from nearby.

“Mr Howell!”

Even the sound of that name is enough to make Dan shudder. In this environment, he’s simply Dan. He only TA’s at school a few days a week now thanks to PJ’s unwavering support and understanding, so most of the time Dan can forget he’s got an awkward, stern twin personality, charged with looking after a bunch of teenagers. He looks around, trying to place the voice in his mind, and failing.

Then, in the centre of the room, a young man stands between a few curious patrons, their heads turned to find out who is shouting in the midst of all the quiet, appreciative murmuring. Even staring him full in the face, it takes Dan a while to figure out who this person is, familiar though he seems. Then, his brain helpfully removes the heavy beard from the man’s chin, shrinks him down a few feet, and strips away the pyjama-like clothing, dressing him in a school blazer instead.

“Jonah,” Dan breathes, astounded. Before he can think anything more, Jonah Frank is storming over to him, a grin peering out from within the thick, unruly beard. Two impossibly strong arms wrap around him, thumping him on the back. “Oh my God,” Dan says, “what on earth are you doing here?”

“Came to support you, teach!” He releases Dan, jostling him by the arm.

“I hardly recognised you,” Dan admits, still baffled that the brawny but short kid he once chaperoned to Paris and back has somehow morphed into this stoner-dude, with long hair and a full beard. “You look, uh... nice tunic.”

Jonah laughs heartily, plucking a canapé of some kind off a nearby tray and seeming to swallow it whole. “Thanks,” he says, still grinning. “I’m at uni now, innit. Decided to reinvent myself.”

Dan chuckles, but then re-examines what Jonah just said. “Wait, you’re at uni?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Sir!”

“Dan,” Dan says, blushing. “Call me Dan, we’re not in school now.”

“Oh yeah, guess you’re right! Weird.” Jonah is looking around, nodding as if impressed, as he takes in each artwork. “This is pretty decent if you ask me, Sir. I mean, Dan.”

Dan smiles at him. “Thanks, Jonah. It was really sweet of you to come.”

“Aw, don’t be a nonce,” Jonah responds, batting Dan in the shoulder. “You’re the reason I got into uni at all! Well, you and Mr Lester, obviously.”

It’s an absurd thing to say, and Dan has no idea where to begin responding to it, so he catches a waiter’s eye and waggles his glass, indicating he needs more alcohol, stat. “What are you studying?”

Jonah grins, then clears his throat. He pinches his thumb and forefinger together, accenting himself as he says, “L’histoire Francaise!”

Dan’s eyes bulge, and he almost drops his glass when a waiter, appearing at his shoulder, begins to fill it. “Is that… are you actually?”

“I swear,” Jonah says, readily accepting a second glass of wine from the waiter. Instinctively, Dan reaches to pluck it from him again, but Jonah pulls it out of reach. “Oi, I’m eighteen! I just told you I’m at uni, remember? Keep up, Sir.”

“Oh right,” Dan says, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Jonah says. “So, where’s Mr Lester these days, then? I heard he’s not teachin’ at school anymore. Did he come to his senses in the end? Or did you scare ‘im off?”

The lack of tact in that question is so blunt that Dan sincerely hopes Jonah knows this is not the case and is just teasing him. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he does, a voice at his side butts in.

“If Mr Howell and I can survive your meddling Jonah, I think we’ll make it.”

“Ah, there he is!” Jonah cries out, arms thrown around Phil before Dan can blink. “Missed you, Sir. Uni’s got some well shit professors. When you gonna come and teach in the big leagues, eh?”

“Give it a year or two,” Dan says, aiming a loaded look at Jonah. Phil nudges him in the side, but doesn’t contradict the statement.

“Oo-er,” Jonah says, stepping back and draining his wine. “And here I was worryin’ that without me you two’d be lost!”

“Oh we are,” Phil says, smiling. “In an emotional sense.”

Dan nods in agreement, and feels Phil’s arm wind around his waist. “Classroom Nine echoes with Jonah Frank’s timeless words of wisdom… ‘when’s lunch, Sir?’, ‘how come they didn’t just wash a bit in the Middle Ages, Sir?’...”

“‘Stop flirtin’ with your TA, Sir…’” Phil adds, then winks at Dan.

Jonah laughs good-naturedly, and they chat a bit more about his Uni, what he’s studying, how it’s all going. He seems to be enjoying his first year, and not just the partying side of it, either. Dan still doesn’t believe that Jonah is there because of him - for some reason, in his last two years at secondary school, Jonah knuckled down and actually left with a decent set of GCSE’s and an acceptance to a nearby college - but he’s immensely glad that he was there to see it all happen, and in some small way, to help.

“At least now you can say it wasn’t all a huge waste of time,” Phil says once Jonah has excused himself to go and wander round the few other rooms.

Dan looks puzzled. “What wasn’t?”

“Doing the TA thing,” Phil says, nodding in the direction Jonah disappeared. “You successfully transformed the school’s most troubled student into a typical, bong-smoking uni fresher.”

Dan snorts, rolling his eyes. “Wow, I’m truly a marvel at my unwanted profession.”

“It’s not your profession anymore,” Phil says; he’s got a stupidly lit-up expression on his face, like he’s bursting with something Dan suspects might be akin to pride. “This is what you do. It’s what you’ve always been meant to do.”

“Well, don’t jump the gun just yet,” Dan says, mind back on how many tickets are left at the door, and if he’s going to be able to pay the caterers and still make a profit. “It’s only the first night.”

“Dan, look around,” Phil says gently, and Dan surveys the room he’s stood in, which is crammed with people, all admiring the art, talking and laughing, the wine in their hands flushing their cheeks. “This is a huge success. It’s a fantastic start to a promising career. You’ve done it.”

Dan opens his mouth to argue, but the sight of Teddy and Tyler in the corner, bickering over the meaning of the abstract sculpture Dan had fought some collector for, he closes it again. They’re arguing over what they deem is art. They’re arguing because they see different things within it, and interpret it in separate, personal ways, in just the way art is supposed to prompt people to do. And Dan’s responsible for that argument, he’s responsible for their individual reactions that caused it. He placed that art in front of everyone here, for those reactions to spill out of people’s mouths, even in the form of a snappy retort.

“You know,” Dan says in a low murmur. “I think you might be right.”

Phil leans in and kisses him, excitable and without finesse. “Je t’aime, mon petit propriétaire de la galerie.”

Dan laughs, softly, against him, drawing back just enough to dive into deep, brilliant pools of pure blue. “Moi aussi, mon amour.”

Fin.

#l'histoire française #phan #phanfic #thank you all so much!! #five years later

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

holy shit okay i was working on my Angel post and I got sucked into the mythology as you do when doing stuff like this, I’ve made 4 separate drafts since then but I can’t keep my mouth shut because guys, I know we’re all focused on the Calypsos, and how Calypso is the child of Atlas, and all that fun stuff

BUT

What if, in the grand scheme of things, Tyreen is Demeter, Troy is Demophon, and Persephone the mystery girl. please, I have wikipedia quotes for all of this. I personally am not an actual believer of this theory, but it was really fun to write, so here you go.

OKAY

Let’s start with Tyreen and Demeter. Yeah, she’s shown us that her power is like... Phasesuck or whatever, where she drains the life force out of people (and Siren powers, apparently), we also see in the art on the wall of the HBC that her and Troy are bringing food (in boxes) to the cultists.

So Demeter is “the goddess of the grain, agriculture, harvest, growth, and nourishment, who presided over grains and the fertility of the earth. Her cult titles include Sito (Σιτώ), "she of the Grain", as the giver of food or grain”. It seems like Demeter is the exact opposite of what we know Tyreen as- right now she steals the life force and strength from people, meanwhile Demeter would nurture them and help them grow and get stronger. In addition: “Though Demeter is often described simply as the goddess of the harvest, she presided also over the sacred law, and the cycle of life and death.” yeah. yeah yeah yeah yeah.

Bonus, I did a lot of research on Cybele a while ago while I was batshit crazy, and GUESS WHAT

“Demeter was often considered to be the same figure as the Anatolian goddess Cybele”

For Cybele: “Her cults most often were funded privately, rather than by the polis. Her ‘vivid and forceful character’ and association with the wild set her apart from the Olympian gods”. Now I don’t know exactly what the Olympian gods are in the borderlands verse. My first instinct was the corporations? But two of those are named after titans and the rest clearly aren’t greek. So I got nothing.

In addition, Demeter created a cult called “the Mysteries which give the initiates higher hopes in this life and the afterlife”. Sound familiar? Yeah, the Great Vault in BL3 that’s referenced by the Cultists while they’re dying. their exact words are “The Great Vault beckons”. To add to that, the Calypsos are stated as giving their cultists something to believe in so they can believe in themselves. They give them ‘higher hopes in this life’. Quote straight from the Danny Homan interview: “People need something to believe in and they need people to believe in them and that’s kind of what the Calypsos have provided. They’ve kind of gone ‘oh bandits, everyone calls you animals, everyone calls you trash... but we see there’s something, there’s something in you, there’s something we can elevate your murder to. Murder in our name’.”

So why do I think this matches up with Ty? Because I don’t think her power is solely taking power from others. I think she can turn around and distribute it to other things.

Moving on.

This coming bit is mainly why I think Demophon is Troy. Let’s take a looksie:

Weird beginning, but things start to make sense soon, I promise: “While Demeter was searching for her daughter Persephone, having taken the form of an old woman called Doso, she received a hospitable welcome from Celeus, the King of Eleusis in Attica. He asked her to nurse Demophon his son by Metanira.”

“As a gift to Celeus, because of his hospitality, Demeter planned to make Demophon a god, by anointing and coating him with ambrosia... making him immortal by burning his mortal spirit away in the family hearth every night.”

Sadly, she doesn’t succeed in making him immortal and Demophon dies because she was interrupted in her ritual. 

Why do I think this is tied to Troy? Because we know Typhon Deleon found something important. We know De Leon is the name of the legendary dude in our world who found the Fountain of Youth - the key to immortality. It’s also been confirmed that Troy can’t survive without Tyreen helping him (tending to him like Demeter does Demophon). It would make sense that they are trying to figure out a way to immortalize Troy (and, yeah, he probably does end up dying. There’s no other reason to mention he’s sick...) We also are all guessing that Troy’s tattoos have appeared by Ty giving him Lilith’s powers. and what is Lilith’s main element? Fire. 

Since we’re on the topic, let’s talk about Demophon’s brother, Triptolemus. He was considered one of the first priests of the Mysteries and one of his rules was “Honor your Parents”. Sound familiar? Yeah, “Honor the Father” that’s on some of the CoV propaganda posters. To explain: “He flew across the land on a chariot drawn by dragons... his mission of educating the whole of Greece in the art of agriculture. Triptolemus was equally associated with the bestowal of hope for the afterlife associated with the expansion of the Eleusinian Mysteries”. We know now that the ‘art of agriculture’ is Demeter’s domain, and we have likened this to Tyreen’s powers. So, likely, Triptolemus is the priest we see on the cover art. Walking around, chosen by Tyreen, teaching people about the Twin Gods and the cult ‘Children of the Vault’.

Now this is where I get a little stretchy. Because we know nothing of Mystery Girl on the cover.

Persephone. “Plutarch identifies Persephone with the season of spring, and Cicero calls her the seed of the fruits of the fields. In the Eleusinian Mysteries, her return from the underworld each spring is a symbol of immortality”. 

Now I talk about Zeus a bunch in my mythology masterpost that i have yet to post cause i'm always adding to it, and basically I think he’s a representative of the Eridians themselves. Some sort of leader or smth? idk

“Zeus, it is said, permitted Hades to abduct her... Demeter searched for her all over the earth with Hecate's torches. In most versions, [Demeter] forbids the earth to produce, or she neglects the earth and in the depth of her despair she causes nothing to grow. Helios, the sun, who sees everything, eventually told Demeter what had happened and at length she discovered the place of her abode. Finally, Zeus, pressed by the cries of the hungry people and by the other deities who also heard their anguish, forced Hades to return Persephone. Hades indeed complied with the request, but first he tricked her, giving her some pomegranate seeds to eat. Persephone was released by Hermes, who had been sent to retrieve her, but because she had tasted food in the underworld, she was obliged to spend a third of each year there”.

now this is 100% unfounded bullshit im spewing here, but maybe this is why we have yet to actually see Mystery Girl, like, AT ALL. 

We know Tyreen wants to get stronger, she wants to absorb the powers of the Vault Monsters. but why? Just to rule over the galaxy? I mean, sure, why not, but she’s pretty much already getting there just with her cult.

Instead, you know what’d be cool? If she needed all those powers to fight whatever/whoever fucked with mystery girl. If she knew that opening all those Vaults was going to lead to something terrible and didn’t care because it was bad for the Eridians, or whatever that took her sister (?). Like, what if they actually were triplets (Tyreen being the first sister), but the reason Mystery Girl looks so young on the MoM is because she’s been missing since that age? Because they tried to make her immortal like they’re doing for Troy? If they’re all siblings, it’s possible they all have the same sickness. Tyreen can always heal herself because of her Siren powers, but what about Troy? The mystery girl? They’d need someone/something else to heal them. I’m sure Ty can do it for one of them, but both? They’d probably gone looking for a way to heal her, maybe they opened a Vault at some point? (maybe the red vault shown in all the wall art?) And Mystery Girl went missing because of it or smth. idk, im just rambling. i was gonna post my Angel post today but I got toooooootally sidetracked. might still do it if i have the energy. 

This is what my tabs are looking like right now btw lmao

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #the calypso twins #i don't actually believe this theory #but it was fun to write

[alo-piss-trancy]

SD/R2 OMO HEADCANONS (Pt1)

Decided it was probably time for me to post a list of my omo hcs for this game since I did the THH chars! Like with the other list, I'll be excluding a couple I have no interest in thinking of omo content of (in this case, Hiy/oko and Teru/teru). I'm breaking this one into multiple posts throughout the week as I compile my thoughts (I'll add a link to all of them on the fic masterlist page later so you can find them all) because I feel this is gonna be a lot longer than my THH post haha!

Here we go, the first 3 (or 4) chars! Please stop reading now if you don't want spoilers for the game bc there will be several!!!

~~~

Gun/dham:

* I firmly hc him as vegetarian (not vegan. He will consume byproducts like milk/cheese/eggs/etc, but only harvested himself or from small farms/sources that he has personally vetted/researched where he knows 100% that the creatures are treated ethically.)

* That's actually not omo-related besides milk oops but it relates to my next point, which is that for the most part he prefers Natural food/drink. Water, fruit or vegetable juices/smoothies, etc. He's not really used to strange 'Human' confections like soda or coffee, so the caffeine and diuretics hit him hard and fast and make it difficult for him to estimate how much time he has. It also makes him jittery/hyped as hell which Does Not Help.

* As long as he isn't screwed over by caffeine or a ton of drinks, he has a decently strong bladder and can hold for a long time. He has a lot of practice from hiding/waiting to help certain animals, laying trapped under sleeping cats/dogs, etc. And also avoiding public restrooms like the Plagues they are for most of the day...

* He's bladdershy AF and has been since early childhood. I saw he had signs drawn on the doors/curtain in his room during my playthrough (including the bathroom) and that is definitely his safezone. Can't go outside either bc 1. He's paranoid he'll be seen by other ppl and 2. That feels disrespectful to the nature deities despite the logic that animals do it all the time. He knows that's dumb and he hates himself for it.

* Sometimes I do like to ignore the bladdershy hc just for some variety. Even in that case tho he'd still be a bit of a diva about which public bathrooms he uses. If it's gross or weird he's gonna avoid it/complain/refuse to go even if bursting. He's stubborn af

* We all know he canonically goes commando. Therefore he is in extra danger because any leaks will go straight to his pants RIP Since he usually wears black it isn't that visable (as long as it's just a bit and not a full wetting), but if he ever has to wear smth else u know he's screwed c':

* He's not very vocal when desperate at all. Mostly strangled whines or grunts (only when alone or if so urgent he can't hide it), he's just so easily embarrassed that he can choke most sound.

* He can also hide his body language pretty well. He can manage to keep himself to rigid posture and the occasional shudder or fidget if needed. Only when he's beyond caught and about to wet will he resort to obvious grabs or dances in front of others.

* Even if he wet he wouldn't cry (I don't seem him crying much for anything tbh, barring extreme things like death). He's angry at himself and extremely ashamed. He would get red as a tomato, attempt to slink away and avoid any witnesses for several days. Could get snippy or hide in his shell all pitiful, depending on the person.

* When alone or sure he can't be caught, he'll fidget more once things are dire. Mostly his long-ass legs. Jiggling, crossing, bending at the knees or bouncing up and down, shuffling from foot-to-foot, everything. He doesn't really do much with his hands beyond a quick crotch-squeeze.

* He'd def let Haj/ime or So/nia dom tf out of him as far as making him hold/lose control, he's submissive and enjoys the challenging test of limits. However, I could also see him totally having a thing for 'marking' his partners during the times he doms.

So/nia:

* Lowkey has a bladder of steel tbh, tho you'd never expect it by looking at her. It takes a lot to get her desperate and even more for her to crack enough to show her needs to others.

* She had a lot of long lectures/lessons, meetings, social events, formal balls, etc. growing up, so she just got used to waiting a lot between breaks so as not to interrupt or be rude to her guests. This also makes her wicked good at remaining completely calm on the outside and keeping the quiver out of her tone even when she's absolutely dying.

* Even once people know her problem, she would NEVER grab herself or dance. Literally the most you'll get out of her is legs crossed at the ankles. For the most part the only sign of her desperation is the slight fullbody shivering where she has her muscles and posture strained. If you're very lucky she may wince or her voice will start shaking/get breathy (her breathing gets super fast and shallow when at her absolute limit. Like nearly hyperventilating fast).

* While not shy at all about asking/telling others where she's going, she was raised with manners. She refuses to interrupt while others are busy, and will wait until she feels the time is appropriate to but into convos or leave the room, even if that could take a long time. She will not skip out on a group task if she can help it bc she feels very strongly about doing her part and not coming off as a slacker (so group investigations/new island exploring/building for Us/ami in Island Mode are all LONG tasks she will force herself to stick out without complaint, even if she's about to wet herself).

* Despite being a princess, she definitely doesn't view anything as being 'beneath' her. If someone asks her to just go outside/in a sketchy place/strange receptacle, she'll do it without question as soon as they agree to glance away. In fact, sometimes it's actually a little thrilling.

* If she did wet herself she would certainly be embarrassed, maybe even teary-eyed depending on the situation/who was around. However, it certainly isn't the end of the world for her, and she would be able to brush it off fairly easily once she got cleaned up and had a chance to breathe. Could probably start making jokes about it by the next day, or just wait patiently for everyone to forget about it.

* Probably has a big piss kink (for others. She isn't much on doing holds herself, minus an occasional 'Damsel in Distress' type roleplay). And honestly just a big one for domming others (sometimes sweetly, sometimes cold/cruel like True Royalty). She looks cute but She Nasty (tm). Gun/dham and Haji/me (to a lesser extent, bc his smart-ass take-no-shit attitude makes him a bit of a brat sometimes lol) are her bitches.

M/ikan (I have to split hers in two bc I have polar opposite hcs) :

Non-Despair M/ikan -

* Is every bit as shy uwu ohnoooo~ as you'd imagine. Super blushy and fidgety and teary-eyed but never admits what's wrong even once it's obvious, to the point of potty-dancing in place (but she's Totally Fine she can hang in there and doesn't need to stop what she's doing)! You literally have to drag her away to the bathroom if u don't want her to have an accident. Would rather die than inconvenience anyone by telling them she has to go, will berate herself for the inconvenience when that backfires and she's made a mess of herself, 120% convinced everyone hates her and p much refuses any comfort bc she's so trapped in the spiral. Bawls her eyes out.

* If on a rare occasion she does work up the nerve to speak up and is denied, that's it. She will not dare ask again even if the person didn't realize how badly she had to go. Nope. Clearly her only option is to hold it until she can't anymore, or until she's alone and can run off by herself.

*Also she totally would whimper to herself in The Worst omo video star voice lmao "Oh noooo I'm leaking into my panties~, it's cOmIng OuTtttt~ uwu uwu uwu" (i'm not making fun of those istg but u know Exactly what 'sexy baby' voice I mean. That is Mi/kan. Don't be so fake bitch We Know u didn't fall spread eagle naturally)

* Says 'Potty' unironically. It's the only word she uses for the bathroom.

* Surprisingly not bladdershy at all. She's actually the opposite. Will go Anywhere (but will be embarrassed while doing it).

* She's used to holding a lot bc afraid to leave class/stuck helping patients for hours on end. However while she has a wicked high capacity and stays very hydrated, she has pretty shaky control. Leaks A LOT, be it in general or bc she gets startled/nervous. She's like a chihuahua lmao. She wears medical liners when on duty as a nurse or during school, but for general hangouts she forgoes them (totally bc she forgot and Not bc she wanted to show her wet panties off to strangers/peers when she falls again, that would be Slu/tty and Improper).

* Once held for ages and then ended up wetting herself just bc Hiy/oko told her to. It wasn't actually a request, just a one-off snippy comment that H forgot about like 10 min after she said it and walked away. When she found out Mi/kan took it seriously she absolutely lost it laughing for the next few days

*Her potty dances include lots of thighs rubbing together/hunching over, hands wandering dangerously close only to pause and grip her skirt/dress hem, hopping from leg to leg and shaking at the knees. She's pitiful when desperate and very cute. Pants and whimpers near constantly, nibbles at her knuckles to try and muffle it.

* Knows when she's at risk of actual damage from holding, but it's still a 50/50 shot of whether she'll break down and go or keep trying to hold. She knows it's unwise, but due to her complete lack of self worth she doesn't really care if her own body is damaged.

* That said, she monitors everyone else very closely and will harass them firmly to take breaks if they're at risk.

Despair/True Mik/an -

* MASSIVE PISS KI/NK. Loves to be dommed/told to hold until she wets. LOVES to do the same to others and tell them all the mean things for a change. She will borderline Break You.

* Takes great satisfaction in watching others struggle. If given an opportunity to make others desperate/prevent them from getting to a bathroom without revealing herself, she will definitely take it. She has no sympathy.

* The Queen of lacing things with diuretics, but can also often find that boring/too easy. A bit disdainful of that method tbh.

* Tying ppl down to hold or hooking them to IVs and 'misplacing' the call button is more her style.

* Used to hold for Jun/ko a lot to appease her. Would be willing to hold for Na/gito, but tbh he's just as willing to hold for her so it's a bit of a stalemate and they've yet to work out who does what.

* Will piss on her victim/lover while staring them directly in the eyes. Does not flinch. She toes the line between sexy and just plain creepy lol

#omocute #omorashi #fandomo #fictomo #bear txt #drspoilers

[princedez]

Journey as a pagan witch

The pagan road. It's been quite a journey for me. My grandma that raised me was a Mexican catholic. She came to the US when there wasnt many Spanish speakers and she met a Cuban lady. Cuban lady taught her about saint magic and how to cleanse with an egg and reading cards and learning some herbs from wicca books and hoodoo books in español. I read these books as early as 10 and was confused how in Catholicism they said we had only 1 God and how in a wicca book there were many, such as Aphrodite.

Then at 13 when i was an unsatisfied atheist i met a guy that showed me his book on Wicca. So i thought "this is it. It speaks to my heart!" And i started buying Llewyn books from Barnes and Noble and calling myself a Wiccan. Until at 17 i joined a site called Wiccantogether.com and learned actual Wiccans are only wiccan if they get initiated into a British Traditional Wiccan coven. So i started calling myself a neo pagan.

I got locked up and could only remember the goddess Kali and the Great Mother Goddess type figure in Wicca. It didnt help me. I kinda went agnostic but never stopped believing in witchcraft.

In 2012 i met a theistic satanist for lack of a better word and i tried to convert to please him. Learned about the Goetia but they werent for me.

Then in 2013 or 2014 i learned about Traditional Withcraft, more specifically British Traditional witchcraft and even joined a coven which i got kicked out of. But on my own time started praising Dionysus here and there after learning of Him through the first season of True Blood.

Now that I've made my devotion official, Im being led to start praising His retinue too. Which is interesting because Im finding deities like us to meet their family and friends.

Im still not calling myself a Hellenic polytheist because i believe all the gods are real somehow and i have some curiousity about Gaulish polytheism and Celtic polytheism because on my white side I have a lot of French and a little bit from the UK too. And i do read into Aztec mythology even though most of my native ancestors were Chichimec which meant in Nahuatl (sp?) "The barbarians".

Tw: r*pe

But last week a friend of mine was raped similar to how i was raped the first time. She didnt wanna report so i asked if i could curse him. A peer of mine as a Dionysus devotee tried to tell me we cant do anything for justice, not being priests/priestesses, he was coming from the tradition of Bacchic-Orphism. Not witchcraft and felt we need Foundation before becoming witches (but that dont seem to be the case with secular witches i find). He said all i should be doing right now is devotional stuff. Praying.

But i couldnt just twidle my thumbs and do nothing other than pray for healing, after i told my friend I'd curse the guy. Because these fuckers abusing the sacred drink (alcohol) to enact violence deserve to face consequences.

So i went around my peer's advice and decided "oh..but what if i devote this work to Hecate?"

It's not my first time attempting a spell that asks for a deity's help, because a lot of wicca books with spells success those kind. But it was my first time trying to ask a deity for help in a spell that was also a friend or apart of "Dionysus retinue" and i wasnt sure how it'd go.

I asked Hecate for help in it.....and i got a pretty damn creepy eye from the candle wax. I took it to mean, someone seen or heard me...this may be a sign of success. A Hellenic witch told me my first impressions are likely the meaning.

I just gotta say, it feels weird to know I've been a polytheist since 2006 but only now the gods are making themselves known in my life (my UPG, secular witches are totally my friends yo). And i imagine including deities in my magic is gonna make my magic different...but it does feel kinda good to know Hecate has seen this rapist's face and approved of my actions. God approval is pretty validating to know i did the right thing (imo).

I'd like to know other people's evolutions as a pagan and/or witch, because i dont imagine im the only one thats had quite a journey and i have met people go from polytheist to atheist.