9 Works by SyntacticSugar
Listing Works
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Summary
Ian is a Boss.
Not in the cringe ‘You’re a boss!’ way, but like, actually - a boss.
Like, talking about key metrics with Production on the YouTube shorts - then confirming with HR that they were still exploring buying into a dental plan with Mythical - and how yes, he was aware and authorizes, three artist proposals for the new office mural.
It took a while for Anthony to settle himself with the thought.
Update: Surprise! The time Anthony gave Ian COVID has been added as Chapter 2. (As my friends get sick around me). The funeral roast is Chapter 3.
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If You Ever Leave, I’m Coming With You by SyntacticSugar
Fandoms: Rhett & Link, Good Mythical Morning
04 Aug 2023
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Summary
“Is it bad?” Link asks, wanting to turn his face to meet Rhett’s eyes but resists as the man is slowly cleaning and poking at his head. ‘I’ve only bumped it.’ Repeats as a mantra to distance himself again before his mind went blank.
Link inhales quick and sharp, at a quick spark of pain, in-turn Rhett on his knees, pulls his left leg up and angles it to brace against Link’s back to support against him passing out.
“I’m ok.” Link repeats again, not sure if it’s true but he thinks it is. “Don’t hurt your back - I won’t pass out.”
“If you do, I’m going with you.” Rhett responds evenly.
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It’s A Goddamn Arms Race by SyntacticSugar
Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
03 Feb 2020
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Exhausted, fresh from the shower and sitting haphazardly with his towel loose at his waist was the Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.
Only the Force knew why it decided it would be the time to connect them.
Rey must have been training. She was in simple clothes, with her staff, but she was soaked in sweat, hair clinging to her neck, chest and face red in effort. She was panting, and Ben found it difficult to meet her eyes. His eyes kept drifting to watch the movement of her heaving chest.
Her eyes were blown, dark and captivating. She involuntarily pulled in and sucked her bottom lip cleaning it of the salt and sweat. Ben found himself swallowing, as if he too was trying to drink the taste in her mouth.
Frozen, Ben watched her approach - willing to accept whatever she gave him. ‘Just a few feet more sweetheart.’
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Love Of My Life by SyntacticSugar
Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)
04 Jul 2019
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Aziraphale gasped - breath leaving him as his heart stopped - his corporal form forgot completely it was supposed to be keeping up appearances.
The Dead Sea Scrolls remained in his hands. Stumbling upon a name, he read and re-read and then he felt a burning in his soul and knew.
“I know your name - I know it - and oh my world itself - my name is not Aziraphale.”
Crowley stiffens and looked at the angel shaking. Names are powerful things. That he didn’t know his own name - it was unthinkable.
“What is your name?” Crowley said, voice low. He did not want to know but was compelled. It felt as if they were rushing to a completion neither of them had any control of.
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The Pro and Cons of Breathing by SyntacticSugar
Fandoms: Star Wars Episode IIV: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
25 Mar 2018
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A thick tent, a large floor blanket and a thermal blanket covering Rey, with her fully clothed — it just was not enough - as her teeth rattled. She wished the wind didn't run though the broken ship as strong as it did, she could have found extra shelter in there if it hadn’t.
Unable to move much, to stay in the bundle of meager heat she created in the blankets, Rey wondered if it would be alright to doze - or if that was the potential hypothermia talking.
It’s shadow looming over her. She had been shaking cold for so long, her ball of self tucking as tight as she could. Rey couldn't tell if she had been here minutes or hours anymore, she was just so cold. She knew hallucinations were understandable at this point - but she still didn’t think that she would dream up a shirtless Ben Solo laying next to her.
Maybe she would.
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The Last of The Real Ones by SyntacticSugar
Fandoms: Star Wars Episode IIV: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
22 Mar 2018
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Summary
There was empty blackness.
And then. There wasent.
He found himself in a large open field of flowers, wheat tuffs and long grass, all somehow vibrant with colors that glimmered like jewels.
Looking down at his hands, uncovered, his normal battle uniform cloaked him - thick tuffs of black leather looking faded grey - in the bright sunlight. It was warm, but a breeze rolls though as if on command, cooling the hint of heat.
He knew something was wrong. This was not a place he would find himself, let alone a place he doesn’t remember traveling to.
All breath left him as his soul hummed.
Rey.
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After the cowboy killed his human body, DeBlanc reinvigorated in hell.
It took just a blink of his eyes to confirm not only was he still in hell - he was in ‘his’ hell.
What DeBlanc didn’t want to tell Fiore, that his fear of going to hell was going back to 'his’ domicile - the same one of which he found himself currently in.
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Fiore stumbled off the bus from hell. Hand reaching and clutching for purchase on the edge of the trunk. He barely was able to wobbly sit on it before the bus was driving into the distance.
The trunk was the closest thing he now had to home; it held Genesis’ music box, his comics, DeBlanc’s’… His human brain stopped him from completing his inventory.
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It started in Africa. Fiore was found staring at a patch of blue violets, where half had been stomped to death.
Reaching down he plucked one of the flattened ones, pealing it up from the ground and DeBlanc found it looking somehow pristine when he was presented with it.
“What’s this for?” He asked Fiore, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a clear response - knowing Fiore was still learning how to form English words in his new human body. “No waste.” He jumbled out and DeBlanc softened knowing what he meant.
He didn’t want it to go to waste; this flower influenced ever so slightly by Fiore’s ‘architecture’.
“Thank you my dear.” DeBlanc answered. Fiore made a contented sound. “Can you place it in the trunk?” Not yet knowing what to do with the gift given, Fiore could find a home for it. Maybe next to his comics.