#no one in-universe knows what the hell he is. unidentified fucking thing

[sappylemons]

!! (for that ask game haha)

this is kei! he is from hyper's universe :]

strange lil chinchilla baby, estimated around 4 years old. hyper stumbles on him completely alone, no indication of parents or family, and not knowing what else to do takes him with him (mimicking boris and arnet, who took hyper in initially). after learning that he has no family to speak of, AND making the fun discovery that kei's tears turn to gems and gold before they hit the ground, they decide to take him in to keep him safe!

he's very much a typical toddler, very happy and playful (probably due to everyone around him constantly trying to ensure he's in the best mood possible to prevent any jewel-encrusted breakdowns). extremely soft to the touch and wants to be held.

#snail mail #magifrog #ty for the ask!! love this weird infant #no one in-universe knows what the hell he is. unidentified fucking thing

[gretchensinister]

Babylon 5 rewatch, S1 E2: Soul Hunter

Franklin! Oh gosh he's so lively and enthusiastic at this point

Interesting that jumpgates will work/open for completely unidentified ships, most scifi I've read would have that kind of technology not work without some kind of standard code or something

This...does seem like a clear and present danger my dude

Claw machine hell

Let's not worry about momentum

...don't know if he's a he, either (90's!)

Sinclair why is your shirt unbuttoned (probably just off duty but lol)

Okay serious information I'm listening.

I wonder how a station ends up with an underclass, like, how did those people get there and why? What did they expect to happen? Like B5 is as big as a city but it's not like you can get there by accident. It seems like this social situation speaks to less...knowledge? Awareness? Of what's going on than I would personally find ideal on a space station

I'm pretty sure souls actually do canonically exist in the B5 universe unless I'm misremembering something. Either way I wouldn't want to be "preserved" by a complete stranger

I just want to note that now, as opposed to when I was a kid, I realize that all the MedLab stuff is VERY much a plot device--what I mean is that I live in a city with about the same population as B5 and we have sooooooo many doctors offices and at least 3 large hospitals. It doesn't make sense for Dr. Franklin to be directly involved with a random stabbing victim.

Gray Council mentioned!

That bug looks INCREDIBLE compared to some shit I've seen in really expensive movies recently. Fuck me, you could PUNCH that bug.

This guy may be messed up for a soul hunter but even the guy chasing him seems...well...mega-creepy

Also a plot thing that only one person is dying at this time in this size of population, even if it doesn't have the same number of elderly people as a city that's not a diplomatic/military outpost

Hint of weirdness between Gray Council and Sinclair initiated!

Oh yeah souls don't like being trapped in a little glass ball forever HUH WHO KNEW

I wonder how that prosthetic affected her hearing

Why WOULD a Gray Council member be serving as ambassador?👀

Man, Delenn was eating popcorn and watching cartoons last time, this time she was almost murdered

At least she got her peoples' souls back

#babylon 5 #b5-rewatch #b5 rewatch

[silma-words]

#24 please for Adrian and mc

There it is, my first attempt at prompts! :) Thank you so much Anon and @adriansbiss for these great asks!

Apologies for merging your two requests into one, though, I hope you don’t mind. I was already well into #24 when the ask for #36 came up, and it fitted so well with what I had been writting that I couldn’t help myself 😊 Thank you both for sending the prompts, I had way too much fun working on these!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Rating: Mature/ NSFW (+18)

Category: Fluffy smut (is that even a thing?)

AU Chronology: Bloodbound AU (after book 1 – the events of book 2 never happened) – Before "The right thing to do"

Summary: Just a bit of weekend fluff for Adrian and Ellie, inspired by prompts #24 and #36 from Prompt List #1:

#24-“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”

#36-“Is that my shirt?”.

Warning: A little bit of cursing, and quite a lot of touching 😉

Words: 3300 words (got a little carried away here)

**Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cursed

It was late afternoon when Adrian woke up from his much-needed Saturday sleep in, after the insane week he just had at the office. He was so fast asleep that for once, he had not been woken up when Ellie had snuck out of bed in the middle of the afternoon, getting on quietly with her business around his apartment, as she often did most week-ends if she was staying over.

He probably would have slept longer if it had not been from the sudden racket that echoed across the penthouse and that made Adrian jump in alert. For a second he worried that it might be a burglary, or some kind of home invasion scenario, judging from the sounds of tumbling kitchenware and slamming doors. That was until he could make out above the dim a series of curse words and groans, making him smile and shake his head with a chuckle: Ellie was clearly up to something, and whatever it was, it was not going according to plan. 

Slowly getting up to head towards the crime scene, he looked around for the shirt he had tossed aside before going to bed and let out a long, amused sigh when he could not find it, understanding that it was probably worn by the woman currently tearing his kitchen apart. She always did that.

Giving up on the shirt and quickly putting on his black sweatpants, he carefully pried the door open to have a sneak peek at what was going on out there.

His suspicions were quickly confirmed. Ellie was busy rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, the rest of the room a mess, mumbling and swearing in turn at the kitchen appliances and at her tablet, her shorts and his shirt covered in flour and stains of unidentifiable origin. He had no idea what the hell she was ranting about, but it was clear from the smells hanging around the living room and the open plan kitchen that she had tested a new recipe – probably from an online blog, judging on the way she insulted the tablet resting on the counter – and that it was not a success.

Adrian could not help but keep observing her from his spot with an amused grin, Ellie too absorbed by her battle against the universe to notice him leaning against the doorframe. Although he was used to see her cook or bake – and usually pretty well – it was an unusual sight to see her loose her tempter. She was usually pretty calm and well-organised, enjoying the peacefulness of the activity when following a recipe, or the creativity of it when she got to be adventurous and imagine something from scratch. Her calm and composure were also something he would praise at work, as she would often help diffuse some heated negotiations or business interactions with tactful interventions, although she did lose her tempter a few times when facing particularly obnoxious individuals.

Seeing her so worked up over a situation like this was, weirdly, a heart-warming sight for Adrian. He’d much rather watch her get angry at a misbehaving blender than at one of Lester’s disgusting innuendos. However, he’d probably better intervene sooner rather than later, more particularly before she could notice him standing there, potentially getting her even more worked up thinking he was mocking her.

Finally making a move towards the kitchen, he cleared his throat lightly to avoid startling her and pissing her off over more, greeting her as casually as his amusement allowed it. “Hey beautiful! Everything all right?”.

She swirled around abruptly, her hands filled with random items she had just grabbed from the pantry, the surprise her eyes quickly shifting to annoyance. “Does it look like everything is all right?!” she snapped, before letting out a long groan and rolling her eyes seconds after seeing Adrian’s reaction.

She hated when he looked so contrite and innocent whenever she was in a bad mood, like a deer caught in the headlights. She hated how cute it made him look and how guilty it made her feel for snapping at him for no decent reason. She hated how much it made her swoon even more. *Damn you, Adrian Raines!*

Adrian held back a smile, fully capable by now to read her facial expression and the changes in her heartbeat to know when he was gaining ground during moments like that – as rare as they were. Stepping a little closer and taking in the view of the carnage she had made of the kitchen, he risked asking, “Care to explain what the issue is and how I can help, maybe?”.

Ellie sighed once more, still fumbling around the room searching for something and cursing under her breath. “That…. ‘effin… dumbass… recipe… has all the proportions wrong….” she grunted behind clenched teeth, barely intelligible, knocking angrily her tablet aside in a small cloud of flour.

“And now… I’ve used up all of the right ingredients… and have been trying to find adequate alternatives for the last hour….”. She let out another annoyed grunt while turning her back to him and stepping back to investigate the top shelf of one of the cupboards, obviously still distracted by her mission, dead set on rescuing this failed recipe at all costs.

“And I guess the alternatives did not work out?”, Adrian risked softly, trying to make sense of all the discarded items and used pots abandoned across the room.

“Nope. It did not” she replied with an annoyed sigh. “Nothing worked, and now I am out of alternatives, or I can’t find anything in this damn kitchen!... oh, and your blender and food processors are shit, by the way!”. Slamming the door of the cupboard shut, she raised her hands in the air as if cursing at the universe, her fists tight in defiance, still her back to Adrian.

Settling his back against the kitchen island to watch the scene, Adrian couldn’t help but smile. Yes, she had made a mess of the place and had probably destroyed his blender and food processor. Yes, she also had ruined his shirt in the process. And yes, she had been unnecessarily sharp in her answers to him just a few minutes before. But damn, she was so adorable when she got so passionate about things like this! Her tiny figure, only covered by her shorts and his stolen shirt, standing in front of him pointing her fists at the sky, was a sight that had to be reckoned with.

Her hair was a mess, tied in a loose bun, because she didn’t bother brushing them on days off like this. Her feet were covered in flour and other bits of random ingredients that had fallen to the floor, because she would always walk around the apartment bare feet. Her shirt – well, his – had barely a few buttons fastened, because she never bothered too much with these in the first place, and she always got too hot when she was moving around the house. Her cheeks were flushed, and the tips of her ears were pink from the exertion caused by her fumbling and cursing around. She had food stains up to her elbows, and from what he could see, something must have splattered in front of her at some point – likely due to his faulty blender, he deduced - because she had some tiny stains scattered all across her cleavage. Adrian loved being able to see this side of her, far from the professional look that he would see around the office on working nights.

When Ellie turned around, done with her complaints to the gods, she was still fuming, but interrupted her mumbling when she saw the smirk on Adrian’s face. “What?”, she grunted once more, standing straight in front of him, her hand on her hip, taunting him. “You think my pain and misery are funny, don’t you?!”.

Adrian chuckled at her adorable angry pout, and smiled even wider than before. “No at all” he reassured her, with the usual gentle tone that he would always use in casual conversation.

He then made a move to step closer, his eyes suddenly bright with mischief, his gait and his gaze nearly predatory. Swiftly bridging the gap between them to stand right before her and force her to lie back against the kitchen counter, he settled his hands on the marble behind her to girdle her tiny, dishevelled form. His face now only inches from hers, he then simply added, with the lowest, huskier voice he could manage “I was just thinking that… you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”.

Taken aback by both Adrian’s sudden closeness and by the gleam in his eyes, it took Ellie a few seconds to register what he had just said. Her eyes darting between his clear blue eyes and the discarded ingredients on the kitchen island behind him, she grunted slightly, her brain still too worked up to figure out what she could answer to that. Or whether she should answer at all.

“Yeah… right”, she only managed to mumble with a line drawn between her brows, clearly not convinced, before trying to wriggle herself out of Adrian’s encaging arms. However, the vampire would not budge. And there was nothing she could do against it.

“I think we should really try to work on your anger management, Miss Reed”, he purred in her ear, his breath hot on her skin, making her shiver despite the heat her body had been accumulating from her restless afternoon.

Finally drawing a breath and taking the time to stare back at Adrian properly, she felt her cheeks flush instantly, finally noticing the wicked grin gracing his features as his eyes kept darting between her mouth, her cheeks, and the vivid pulse throbbing in her neck.

*Damn you, Adrian Raines!* Damn him and that damn mischievous grin that wouldn’t leave these lips. Now, she was that stupid deer caught in the headlights! And he was fully aware of it.

Relinquishing how the tempo of her heartbeat had changed so quickly after he had trapped her, Adrian didn’t feel like anything could stop him from continuing to tease her. This was way too much fun, seeing her all dishevelled and fuming, confused between her previous state and the new sensory cues he was subjecting her too. This was way too delicious. And she was damn too fucking hot when she was mad.

Taking a step closer to trap her further between his body and the kitchen counter, he brushed a finger up along her arm, before tracing the shape of her clavicle on his way down her chest, reaching for the hem of the stained shirt she was wearing, and giving it a gentle tug.

“Is that my shirt?”, he questioned softly with an arch brow, his tone clearly teasing her as if about to reprimand her about it, his voice low and husky.

“Well…” She straightened herself, matching his false daring glare. “It was. Now it’s mine.” Her tone was challenging, her stance fierce, and her poker-face intact.

However, there was nothing she could do against Adrian’s hyper-senses and the way he could hear the blood rushing to her ears, feel the way her body temperature suddenly peaked, and see the goosebumps on her chest where his fingers had just trailed.  

“Oh is it, now?” he chuckled, slowly drawing his finger down along the fabric, his eyes challenging hers. “Well, I'm sorry if I have to disagree with you, but I don't recall agreeing to this".

Ellie was boiling inside. Not that it had anything to do with anger and frustration any more. Maybe it had to do with the way he was looking at her. Or the low rumble of his voice that she could feel vibrate against her skin where their bodies touched. Or maybe it had to do with how his bare chest was pressing against her, his strong arms on either side of her acting as both a physical obstacle and a wicked temptation, the dark lines of his tattooed brand nearly brought to life as his muscles twitched and flexed, alert.

But she could not cave now. Not yet. She had to keep that poker face on, as long as she could. It was a matter of pride. Or maybe she just enjoyed playing the game.

“Well, not much you can do about it, Mr Raines, now that it's ruined", she simply stated, holding his daring glare, and putting a hand on his chest to make him back off *as if she wanted him to*.

“I don't care that it's ruined” he insisted, edging his mouth closer to hers to command, “I want it back".

His gaze did not waver, even when he noticed the way her pupils dilated at his words and the way her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding louder in her chest, although she did her best to keep her composure.

“Fine", she blurted out, suddenly pushing him a few steps back, hastily reaching for the front of the shirt to undo the few buttons that she had bothered to fasten earlier in the day.

A flicker of a smile finally graced her face, mischievous, upon seeing Adrian’s eyes finally shifting away from hers to watch her fingers work on the fabric, their colour subtly darkening as more skin became exposed. His irises had completely turned to that mesmerizing gold that she knew so well by the time she had opened the blouse, revealing her round breasts unceremoniously and shrugging off the white material quickly, eager to shove it in his hands as an excuse to close the gap between them.

“Happy now?”, she grinned, pressing her body flush against his, pushing him backwards in the process until their motion was stopped by the cold marble of the kitchen island behind him.  

“Can’t you tell?” he teased, subtly grinding his hips against her as he tossed the shirt to the floor to free his hands and grab her backside firmly.

That was it. That stiffness pressed proudly against her and those callous hands pulling her towards it were the end of her composure. And of Adrian’s as well, for that matter. A genuine and cheeky smile now lighting up her face and eyes dark with need, she threw her arms around his neck to reach for his mouth, locking her fingers in his hair to pull him closer so that she could wipe that stupid smirk from his face.

She kissed him as fiercely as she could, their lips clashing against each other in a wet mess of flesh and teeth, Ellie wriggling against his chest furiously as Adrian was trying to take over the control of their embrace.

Their dance had nothing gracious or flirtatious anymore. It was a fiery battle of mouths, grabbing and pulling, although both of them were wearing the same playful grin on their lips every time their eyes met and battled for control.

The endorphins in her body were sending confusing signals to her brain, torn between the will to prove herself feisty and able to dictate the game – which she was, as they both knew it already-, and the desire to let Adrian show her how much he wanted her right now.  

Adrian was doing his best to hold back his strength and his urges, savouring the way the tension Ellie had accumulated from her frustrating culinary experiment had slowly morphed into a very different kind of tension under his touch and devouring eyes.

The satisfaction he was feeling from seeing her respond to him so well was not even about the power he knew he could have over her in moments like this. Because she had just as much power over him. It was about that trust that they were carefully building together and that allowed them to be themselves with each other. The kind of trust that could free you from your deepest insecurities and help you explore truly who you were. And although Adrian once thought that there was no more corner of himself that was left to unveil, she had gradually made him realise that he was wrong. And he wanted her to be empowered to do the same. Empowered to explore and discover who she was, and define who she wanted to be. And in this moment, she was entitled to express her frustration and blow it off in any she wanted to, even if the reason for her initial outburst was trivial and kind of amusing. He would stand by and take her cues, although incredibly eager to watch it all unravel under his eyes and against his skin.

The fire and hunger in her eyes and in her touch were not making it easy, though. Nor was the warmth of her chest against his and of her fingers playing with the hem of his sweatpants.  

“I know the shirt was yours…” she chuckled between kisses, breathless, as she felt his hands fumbling with the waistband of her shorts. “… but I don't recall these ever belonging to you, Mr Raines". Her eyes were daring and mischievous. She was clearly enjoying their little power-play as much as he was. And it was intoxicating.  

“Fair point, miss Reed” he conceded, before letting his lips trail down her throat. “But I do recall you assuring me very, very clearly, multiple times over the last few weeks, that what was underneath did belong to me”.

Ellie could not stop the giggle that escaped her lips at his words, the warmth pooling dangerously between her thighs and her cheeks flushing brightly as glimpses of the moments Adrian was referring to flashed in her head. By the time she had managed to pull herself back in the moment, he had already made quick work of the last bits of clothing she had left, and had taken advantage of that brief distraction to lift her from the ground. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, too aroused by now to keep pretending she had not been craving for this all along.

“So, where shall we take this, Miss Reed?” he whispered in her ear, his smile warm but his eyes dark with lust.

Ellie stared at him with hunger for a few seconds, taking the time to nip at his bottom lip as if carefully evaluating their options. “Hum… we wouldn’t want to make a mess of your bedroom, with all that flour and grime on me, wouldn’t we, Mr Raines?”.

“On this we can fully agree”, he muttered against her lips, before claiming her mouth again, her lips parting invitingly so that their tongues could meet.

Their kiss was long, gentle, and agonizingly chaste at first, but it took merely seconds for their heated bodies to yield to the yearning for each other once more, as if the dam that had been holding down their urges up to that point had now finally collapsed with a spectacular bang. Breathless and dizzy, Adrian could feel his legs stagger dangerously with the frenzy of Ellie’s kisses and the tantalizing way she was shamelessly slithering up and down against him, using all of her upper body strength to grind her hips along his length.

The next thing they knew, she was sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, his hips working urgently between her legs. Her fingers digging in his back. Her heels pressed into the back of his thighs, still covered by the fabric of his pants as none of them could have been bothered to pull them further down than what was required. Her mouth was devouring every inch of his chest, muffling the cries that she could not control any more.

Lost in the comfort of their entwined bodies and echoing moans, Ellie could not remember how the hell this all started in the first place. Her earlier furious complaint to the gods was now long forgotten, only to be replaced by curses of a very different kind.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Still accepting prompts from List #1 Imagines and nsfw prompts)

Tag list:

@adriansbiss

@itsjustwinter

@shanzay44

@purvishraick

@choicesficwriterscreations​

#bloodbound #bloodbound choices #adrian raines #adrian raines x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction #play choices #choices #choices bb #writing prompt #asks #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #choices stories you play

[subwalls]

WHUMPTOBER 2021 - 4/30

No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Also available on AO3!

 Sapnap’s day starts off with his shitty apartment flooding ankle-deep in unidentifiable monsterly fluids, which sucks.

 It’s not as dangerous as that one time the whole building came alive and tried to eat its residents, but it’s definitely messier, which is arguably worse.

 This is the kind of thing most people usually take as a sign from the universe that they should go over to a friend’s place and sulk for the rest of the day. Anyone who’s survived more than a week in this clusterfuck of a city knows to trust their instincts on that—which usually means getting the hell out of dodge.

 Unfortunately, Sapnap has kind of garbage instincts.

 Oh, they’re fantastic at keeping him alive, sure. He’s coming up on his one-year anniversary of being here, and he’ll definitely be celebrating that at one of those dubiously legal and definitely non-human bars, but the fact that he’s      still     here, squelching through monster goop and all…

 Sapnap wrinkles his nose as he sidesteps the still-twitching corpse in the lobby. Some idiot with an organ graft from the End, probably, which explains the goop seeping into everything. Shouldn’t the drawbacks of End tissue be common knowledge by know? Specifically the fact that it implodes at the first hint of water?

 Most apartment complexes these days have sprinklers installed on the doorstep for the explicit purpose of enforcing their dumb Huma-only policies.

 Sapnap, with his Netherborn lungs, counts himself lucky. He looks Huma,      is    legally Huma, and can hold his breath when the sprinkler douses him. So his landlord’s none the wiser.

 Probably.

 Eh, if he was going to be evicted for that, it would’ve already happened. Work comes first, and if Sapnap’s lucky, he’ll be too worn out to even notice if they’ve cleaned up the mess by the time he comes back.

 He pats the left side of his face, checking that his eyepatch is in place like it should be, and walks out into the thoroughfare of SMP City.

 Immediately, the world drops out from under him. Sapnap whirls around, reaching out for the wall that should be right there, but the thin clouds slip through his fingers without so much as a whisper of substance.

 The wind forces his good eye shut. He forces it open again, squinting, all too aware of the warmth smoldering in his chest. His vision blurs weirdly in a way that could’ve been from wind pressure or because he’s been out for longer than he thinks. After a few seconds of blinking furiously, it clears.

 Oh. That’s not the sky.

 That’s the void.

 Those are two very different things. One is up, and the other is… well. All around the city, truthfully; it swallows the ocean and heaven alike into the dragon’s maw, marking out the abyssal boundary of where the other worlds bleed into this one.

 It’s part of what makes commute in and out of the place troublesome, because too-big vehicles that get too close end up attacked by the aforementioned dragon—not that anyone’s every seen the whole breadth of the thing, just an errant wing or tail that swings up to demolish a plane or ship, black scales iridescent against the darkness.

 The fact that Sapnap is standing on a platform in the middle of this beast’s territory is, as they say, Not Good.

 Leaning over the edge, Sapnap sees no support holding up the square of rock he’s somehow ended up on. It’s just floating over the misty emptiness. Looking up yields nothing of note either; he must be pretty low in the void if he can only see the wispy fog instead of the surface.

 Something silver flashes at the edge of his vision, and Sapnap ducks out of the way of a shattered blade. His cheek flares, and he slaps a hand against it, wincing.

 The metal tumbles into the void. Sapnap pulls his hand away, and blinks at the smear of blood left behind.

 “GREETINGS,” bellows out from somewhere overhead. A long scythe of a blade lowers from the fog, and Sapnap backs up to the edge of his floating rock as its tip comes to a gentle rest over his throat.

 “Why am I here?” Sapnap demands. He slouches backward, sticking his hands into his pockets like the perfect image of a begrudged student. If it’s to hide the trembling of his arms, that’s a secret between him and the phone in his pocket. “Who are you?”

 “I AM UNKNOWN, COLLECTOR OF DIVINE INSTRUMENTS, PROSTHESIS MADE BY THE GREATER POWERS,” the voice booms. “I AM HERE TO COLLECT YOURS.”

 “Uh, divine what now?” Sapnap says. He presses his thumb against the cool screen of his phone, making sure it’s facing towards himself so the light doesn’t bleed out. “I don’t know what those are. You’ve got the wrong person.”

 The scythe jerks upward, nicking open his chin, trailing up his face.

 And comes to rest directly over his eyepatch.

 Sapnap stills.

 “THE ALL-SEEING EYES OF THE GODS.”

 “What about them?”

 “YOU HAVE THEM. OR SO I THOUGHT,” the voice adds, and the scythe withdraws a little. “I DID THINK YOU FELL FOR THAT TRAP TOO EASILY FOR A TRUE WIELDER… IT WAS EITHER YOU OR YOUR SYNDICATE FRIEND, THEY SAID, AND THE FANG HUNTER IS MORE TROUBLE THAN I’D LIKE.”

 Syndicate friend. Fang hunter.      Dream.     Sapnap's heart plummets to his heels, but he tries to keep an even keel. “Who’s they?” he asks over the sound of his phone unlocking. As subtly as possible, he drags his thumb across the screen.

 “AH, NOW THAT WOULD BE TELLING, WOULDN’T IT?” A low cackle rolls through the fog like thunder, ruby light flashing faintly in the distance. “OF COURSE, IF YOU GIVE ME WHAT I WANT, I WILL GLADLY TELL.”

 “You… want to take the Eyes,” Sapnap says, slowly.

 “I DO.” A metallic      click     echoes overhead, and two more scythes descend, grinding against each other in a thin shriek of metal on metal. “BUT IF YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO WIELDS THEM…”

 Inhale, feel the air warm in his throat, embers into flame. “What’re you gonna do,” Sapnap says, “kill me?”

 “AND WASTE SUCH A RESOURCE? NO, NO. YOU ARE BEST KEPT HERE,” Unknown says, amused. Another blade comes low, and clinks against the phone in his pocket. Sapnap freezes. “GO ON. ASK YOUR FRIEND TO SAVE YOU. CALL THEM HERE. THESE THINGS ARE ALWAYS EASIER TO NEGOTIATE FACE TO FACE.”

 Well now he doesn’t want to do it.

 Sapnap snorts, and a tongue of flame washes over the back of his teeth. “I’m not going to be your good little hostage,” he spits.

 “BUT YOU ALREADY ARE,” says Unknown, and the scythes all turn to slam into the rock.

 Ruptures tear across the surface of the stone, and Sapnap swears as he quickly shuffles onto the biggest piece. The edge crumbles away; far below, the fog shifts. A dull purple glow starts to brighten in the abyss, a tell-tale sign of the dragon waking, and Sapnap throws himself at the scythe in preparation to climb up the weapon-limb if he must—

 His vision      sings.    

 Suddenly, the world takes on a blue tint. Everything jumps into high-definition, and the fog might as well not exist, and Sapnap can see the arching crimson light of a      fucking Blood Breed     looming above him, Unknown is a      Blood Breed,     Sapnap doesn’t stand a chance even if he can read out the letters of their true name from the red aura surrounding them—he looks away, and notices for the first time the golden threads spanning the width of the void, glittering with magic.

 In the back of his mind, he registers that he’s looking at the spell that stopped the Great Collapse, the one that saved the worlds from folding in on each other into utter destruction.

 The rest of his mind is a little busy      screaming,     though.

 A displeased snarl rips through the air as another set of scythes cleave down towards him, and Sapnap exhales a spout of flame that slows them down only barely enough to dodge.

 “OH,” says Unknown, “OH, OH! IS THAT AN EYE? YOU      DO     HAVE ONE! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD HIDE THE GODS’ GIFT LIKE THAT—YOU MUST LET ME HAVE IT, HUMA, IT IS WASTED IN YOUR SOCKET!”

 Sapnap shouts, “You can take it over my dead body!” and throws himself at the ground when a blade tries to cut him in half at the hip.

 “GLADLY!” Unknown dives, now, their nebulous aura now a very clear and vivid blood-red glare into Sapnap’s vision, ruby light spinning down their bony weapon-limbs like latticework.

 Sapnap doesn’t flinch, and even swings his head upward to let the Eye watch and watch and watch—thinking      this is what I go through for you     with only half the bitterness he really feels—which is the only reason he notices the other one.

 Two Blood Breeds in a single day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 A blade pins him through the shoulder in a burst of hot-eyed pain, but the rest all      miss     as a thin red string wraps around Unknown’s limbs and yanks them upward, into the low-hanging mist.

 Sapnap blinks. He can still see them, thrashing against a thread that yanks Unknown around like a plaything before throwing them aside. It’s connected to the second Blood Breed, which is descending towards him now.

 Okay, okay, it’s fine, he has a little time. A Blood Breed’s weakness is their true name, so if he can just extract that, he might be able to… burn it, or something.

 Sapnap takes a deep breath, gives his vision the middle finger just so the other end of the Eye can see it, and then focuses      hard     on that deep red aura.

 For the most part, it’s just a storm of crimson, red and red and ruby and blood, but Sapnap keeps      looking     and his one working eye whirs like a machine as it narrows, cutting through the noise, piercing down until he can see the heart and the core and… at the very end, a thin string of letters in a language he shouldn’t know.

 The All-Seeing Eye of the Gods pours it all into his head:       red red crimson-winged elder ⍊𝙹╎ᓵᒷ↸╎⍊ᒷ ᓵ∷ᔑℸ ̣ ╎リᒷ ⍑||!¡╎ ̇/ᒷꖌ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ𝙹ʖꖎᔑ↸ᒷred blood red red war red—  

 “Tech—” he begins, and promptly chokes as a hand slaps over his mouth.

 “Shush,” says the Blood Breed, calm as anything, quite suddenly right beside him. “Yeah, I got there in time, of course I did. Hey, you’re Sapnap, right?”

 Sapnap tries to melt him on pure force of will alone.

 “I’m gonna let go of you now. Maybe don’t be rude and expose me in front of an idiot like that, alright?” The Blood Breed exaggeratedly steps back, and Sapnap immediately flings himself to the opposite side of the very tiny floating rock they’re standing on. “Great, cool, nice talk. Not awkward at all.”

 “What do you want?” Sapnap demands, bristling.

 “You don’t recognize me?”

 Sapnap pauses. He gives the Blood Breed another once-over, taking in the plush red cape and royal garb. Looks at the name again. Nothing rings a bell. “Should I?”

 “Eh. Guess not. We’re a little short on time anyway, so introductions can wait, I guess.” As if on cue, the void begins to rumble. The dragon must be      inches     from rushing out.

 Sapnap waves his hand through what he’s sure is a gear of light blue energy rotating in front of his face, trying to tell his friend to let it go. He doesn’t want him to watch him die.

 The Blood Breed interrupts him with a hand on his wrist. “Hey. Do you trust me?”

 “Hell no.”

 “Smart,” the Blood Breed says, and shoves him off the edge.

#my fics

[ask-classicdreams]

Uh so. Masterpost I guess. Here's my ideas. They're all shit, but here ya go.

--while the void attempted to recreate dreamtale as the classic universe, dreamtale has a wildly smaller amount of resources to work with. therefore in putting dreamtales code into the classic universe, it just turned basically everything into apples since that's the focus of dreamtale. so, toriel and flowey are apples.

--dream is in papyrus's role and instead of cooking spaghetti and such, he cooks everything out of apples since there's such an abundant supply of them. the underground is located underneath an apple orchard.

--nightmare is in sans's role, and he hates apples. instead of the classic "burn in hell" genocide quote, nightmare just sighs and flips dream's cape-hood-thing up. after a pause and some shifting, he just says "i fucking hate apples." before fucking you up

--after the first hit when you deny his mercy, dream basically says 'fuck you' to the script and goes apeshit. if you somehow survive that, he turns into your passive aggressive narrator. (eg. "woshua steps in! you're gonna slaughter him in cold blood aren't you, you f-") him and chara have fights over the flavor text rules.

--when nightmare dies, there isn't any blood or anything. just a sigh and nightmare going "heh, well. guess that's over. dream, i think i'll try that apple pie now." there is no whoosh sound either, just a thud.

--dream's outfit is underswap sans's down to a T. the only difference is that dream's is in a shade of yellow. dream's first words when prompted are "wait isn't this just underswap sans's--" but gets kicked in the teeth by annoying apple, the substitute for annoying dog. nightmare's first words are "patrick noise. wait fuck i can't say that--ererererer" but instead of saying the text tone noise, he pronounced the letters.

--instead of his circlet, dream wears a plastic cinderella tiara with himself scribbled over cinderella in black marker. nightmare stole it to draw a mustache on it at some point. eg:

--nightmare's outfit is gross, goopy sweatpants that was once an unidentified color. they have the walmart logo down each side of them. his shirt is black, obviously. but he's wearing the Official Patented Sans Jacket, the one with sans's face on the zipper? it's somehow untouched by all of the goop. pristine condition. his slippers are black and fluffy with google eyes on them which dream calls his goopshoes.

--frisk n chara are still humans.

--when you look in dream's fridge, all you see is apple products. look closer, and you'll start to see the apple meat, apple stomach, apple feet. you decide to close the fridge.

--toriel is another apple. whenever she has to move, she politely asks you to leave the room. nothing progresses until you do. once you move, theres obvious slide marks on the floor where toriel once was.

--when you kill her in genocide, you get the apple. if you decide to go back into toriel's house, you have the option to make apple pie.

--muffet's place is Whole Grains Fruits and Vegetables For A Super Low Price! (no exceptions or abbreviations, you have to type it out in full every single time) the Whole Grains Fruits and Vegetables For A Super Low Price! fight is just. shopping cart. upon further inspection, it's an applebys shopping cart but you don't know how because applebys is a restaurant, not a supermarket. the joke is that nightmare stole it.

(*There's goop on the handlebars. You wonder what Nightmare wanted with a shopping cart.)

dream, if you call him at the dump: oh yeah! nighty always wanted to go to the surface so he could try something other than apples! it seems we're right under an apple orchard, so we mostly get apple-centric foods.

my boy wanted to keep it but dream talked him out of it (unless it's true pacifist, go into his room after the barrier breaks and it's in the place sans's treadmill would be. he'll be sitting on his bed when you walk in.)

when prompted nightmare says:

nm: what? a guy can't dream?

frisk: dream of what

nm: my brother, dream of the underground [sans wink]

frisk: no what about the shopping cart?

nm: what's a shopping cart?

[dialogue box disappears, shortcut sound plays, shopping cart is gone]

go underneath the sink and it's in there though, with frantic scuff marks on the ground. seems like the wheel got stuck halfway down.

--the neutral fight is a giant apple with eyes. nightmare is with you for some reason, showing clear disgust because it looks like you'd have to eat all of it. but, frisk just throws their dora the explorer light-up sneakers at the apple's googly eyes. when the eyes come off, you get the apple.

(you're supposed to put it on nightmare's bed. during the phone call, at the end, he says "oh by the way i got your gift. fuck you." and hangs up.)

--everybody else is statues.

--if you give nightmare the apple directly it starts a dating sequence that only lasts a few seconds before he bodily picks you up and chucks you at the barrier. you faceplant on the other side. he likes throwing you around, if you come back to the bridge between snowdin and the ruins after killing dream, he picks you ups and throws you off of it.

--at the end of genocide, instead of chara appearing it's just nightmare but 80x taller than frisk.

--they have a pet frog named phenylcyclohexyl piperidine. when asked, dream will say "oh nightmare named her! i don't know what it means though..." you have the choice to tell him "it's a drug" or "ask him later". if you choose "it's a drug" dream will nod solemnly and stay quiet.

if you choose to tell dream to ask night about it, the next time you see dream he'll say "nightmare told me what it means! im so glad our frog is an angel :))"

--during nightmare's fight, in the middle of his strongest attack, you get an award titled "congrats! you've been distracted!" and he immediately throws a sequence of attacks faster than you can dodge if you were distracted. if you click on it, it says "nightmare kicked your ass, didn't he? hah."

--when night uses his magic a giant fuckoff apple tree bursts out of the ground behind him that he normally uses to hide in (which is how he dodges) and his apple soul forms and hides in the branches. you have to aim for it to win.

--instead of bullets apples get thrown at you (main reason frisk flirts with everyone, throwing an apple at someone's face in ancient greece normally substituted for a marriage proposal).

--everythings gone to shit both apple brother's have a blatant disrespect for the script and the game changed every time you play it. eventually, if played too much, the game will bluescreen and you'll have to turn your monitor on and off.

Yeah, that's probably it.

#mod red #yoink here you go #my dyslexia really jumped out 🤡 #masterposts

[funeraloracle]

tagged by @softapollo​ tho not really? they just tagged anyone that wanted to do it and i did! so im tagging @gguksostara @faithums @coyoteskies @dramathics @headstronghawkshaw @mercurian-goddess @schoolofapollo @fatherofghosts @aresdaughters @greyscalegalaxie @cloudedaura @witchytinky @withmygoldenmagicslingshot and youuuu!

1. name: listen this shit changes every week but lets go with Miette for the time being.

2. nickname: oh lord any number of things. the most popular ones are Mimi, Crumbcake... i’ve had a few people call me Funeral.

3. zodiac sign: leo sun, taurus moon, taurus rising. 

4. height: 5′8. if im taller than you, reply with your height muahahaha

5. languages: english and some american sign language. i’m supposed to be learning greek but all i know is the alphabet and i barely know that. i’ll get back to it soon;;

6. nationality: american, though i have heavy welsh ancestry. i’m from somewhere in the south but i won’t tell you where. no, it ain’t texas.

7. favourite season: see this is hard for me. there are too many storms in spring and i’m piss scared of storms (sorry zeus). there’s also a lot of thunderstorms in the summer and a higher chance of tornadoes where i live so its no bueno. winter is really cold and very depressing, so i’m gonna have to go with autumn by process of elimination. though tbh the margin between summer and winter has gotten smaller and smaller these days.

8. favourite flower: ohh are you kidding me... sunflowers, lillies of the valley, specifically pink carnations, bleeding heart flowers, angel’s trumpet flower, hyacinths, coral roses, yellow marigolds, red poppies... 

9. favourite scent: it changes all the time because im autistic, and therefore scents can be very overwhelming. but right now im very into thick, desserty scents. all the candles i buy are in buttery pastry or mocha-y/coffee scents. my partners bought me a chocolate chip candle for valentines day and it just finished its burn today ): i also love gasoline for some reason?

10. favourite colour: this too changes! i especially love pink, i have so many things in pink. but i also love yellow, orange, mint green, baby blue, scheele’s green...

11. favourite animal: BEARS!!! bears for sure i love bears so fucking much especially giant grizzlies UGH

12. favourite fictional character: i hate these questions i can’t pick a favorite ANYTHING. so ill go with the characters that i most relate to/most influenced who i am today, in no particular order: bubbles and blossom from powerpuff girls, princess luna and pinkie pie from my little pony, alice liddell from alice in wonderland, hello kitty and mimi from the hello kitty straight to vhs series, harley quinn from the dc universe, bambi from disney’s bambi, ariel from the little mermaid-- have you learned something about me yet?

13. coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: ill drink anything with matcha, whether thats tea or coffee. i’ll go on the record rn to say if you put something with matcha in front of me i will fucking eat/drink it.

14. average hours of sleep: 7-7.5 hours is what i try to stick to.

15. cat of dog person: cats! though im just an animal lover in general, i own a cat of my own.

16. number of blankets you sleep with: one big heavy ass duvet. i cant imagine sleeping with more than one... that’d be so heavy and uncomfortable. sensory hell.

17. dream trip: greece! country ROADSSSS TAKE ME HOMEEEEE

18. blog established: only a few months? i believe i made it at the end of 2019, though this is a sideblog. ive been on tumblr since 2014.

19. followers: 49 on my main @softmiette and 496 on here.

20. a random fact: i have a deer skull on my altar! he’s the best. i also have two unidentified bones that i received from a close friend. i believe one is a coyote rib and the other is a deer’s femur.

#mine #tagged

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m happy oh god i’m happy

TW: alcohol abuse, non-graphic sexual content, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self harm (in many forms), drug use, couchsurfing, mentions of delusions and paranoia, otherwise reckless behaviour

Note: this takes place in @illogicallyinclined’s hockey au and is a Prequel this is supposed to represent what Remus’s manic episodes look like everyone is different, but im using a mix of my own experiences with bipolar i and some friends who were willing to talk about theirs, then changing it to fit Remus’s existing Absolutely Feral personality, Jared and Payton are OC’s and teammates of Remus, the three of them are known for wrecking havoc at all times because none of them possess a braincell.

The art studio was empty, filled only by the assorted music of Remus’s sculpting playlist on the bluetooth speaker he brought in, and Remus himself. His hands glide through the wet clay and he basks in the slimy feeling between his fingers. Remus’s hair is held back by a small headband and he is wearing a tank top and jogging pants already covered in various mediums he has used through the day. He does not know where the energy to finish every project for this semester came from but he isn’t about to object.

If you were to look around this studio, there is a high contrast painting of a tentacle creature that is unsettling in an almost unidentifiable way, half of a self-portrait which uses resin teeth as the main element, as well as his current project of a large cup shaped like a decapitated head. In short, while Remus believes these are his best pieces, the chances of the university permitting them to be displayed are very low.

Remus gets frustrated that the music didn’t seem to be filling his inspiration in the way he hoped he changes the song revealing it to be approximately 4am, and no texts received since he sent D a picture if the teeth pile around 10pm.

—

“Can you go wake Remus up and ask if he wants any breakfast, he really shouldn’t sleep in this late, even if it is Saturday” D asks from the stove while Roman grabs his carton of milk from the fridge and doesn’t bother grabbing a cup.

D grimaces at him as he chugs back the milk, once again thankful that they have separate ones (even if that is at fault of Remus deciding to mix apple juice with milk in the carton without alerting anyone else in the household). “He actually headed out like, real early this morning, I spoke to him when I got up for a shower at like six. He said he’d be back today though?” Roman replied ignoring D’s look.

“Well, that’s even weirder. I’ll make extras so he can eat when he gets back, it's already eleven.”

“Sounds good,” Roman noticing D’s almost done slides a few plates next to him and accepts D’s soft ‘thanks’.

Suddenly they hear someone miss the keyhole three times before getting it and entering. Unsurprisingly, it’s Remus inappropriately dressed for a casual outing, surprisingly he seems to be holding several bags full of merchandise. “Helloo roommates! Look what I bought!” Remus shouts, slamming the door with his foot and bringing his bags to the couch.

“Are those... cups?” D asks turning off the stovetop to curiously check out Remus’s merch load.

“Hell yeah they are! I figured since you-” He pokes at D, “Took away all our glass cups after me and Roman went to that last party, I would take it upon myself to replace them. Look!” Remus proudly pulls the ugliest Jar Jar Binks cup out of one of the bags.

Roman visibly recoils as his brother parades the worst cup he’s ever seen around their apartment. D rolls his eyes but collects the cup and hesitantly places it into the dishwasher. “Thank you, Remus, these cups are horrid but they’re functional, which, I guess is good enough. Though, how much did these cost?”

“No idea, probably around sixty bucks total though, maybe. I went to three different thrift stores. Look at this one!” Remus holds up a vaguely terrifying cup that seems like it may have once resembled Spongebob Squarepants to Roman.

“That’s… Great, Remus, thanks” Roman says taking the offered item.

—

The three make it to practice 20 minutes early because Roman likes to prove he’s dedicated and a good captain. Coach Thomas and Joan greet them and Thomas talks to Roman briefly as Joan finishes setting things up. D and Remus do some stretches as others begin to show up, D comments on Remus being shaky and Remus hops around quickly explaining that he just woke up with a lot of energy for some reason.

Coach Thomas reminds Remus to take his time during practices speeding through everything doesn’t work if he keeps messing up before he even makes it halfway through.

—

D is going to kill Remus tomorrow morning. The repetitive sound of the bedframe slamming against their shared wall, and Remus wailing like a cat in heat at 1am is not something he wants to deal with right now. It’s a Tuesday night and D knows Remus has a class at 11am, one that D will not let him skip because he decided getting laid was more important. How does Remus even get a man to willingly enter that nightmare of a room? D rummages through his bedside table for ear plugs and regrets giving Roman the far room so easily.

—

“Jesus- Hello? Do you know what time it is?” The tired voice answers the phone after the third time of going to voicemail.

“Of course I don’t, Jared, I’m not a fucking nerd! I just thought I might extend my offer of filling the fountain in the middle of campus with bubble bath and a swim to you and Payton! D already said if I woke him up he would cut my dick off and feed it to his snake,” Remus audibly pouted at the end of his sentence.

Despite it being three am, it didn’t take a lot for Jared to wake up Payton and agree to meet him just off campus to run to the 24/7 convenience store for soap for the fountain. Remus leads the group in talking a mile a minute about something that Jared and Payton actually missed out on entirely. They try to contribute but realize Remus doesn’t notice when they have their own conversation anyways. They listen to him vaguely flit through topic after topic and get lost and confused in his own sentences, and once the soap is collected, they head to the large fountain in the middle of campus.

The fifth bottle of soap has been discarded and the fountain is sufficiently bubbly by the time the three hockey players strip to their boxers and begin their bath. There are attempted drownings, bubble beards, and the fountain change being thrown around.

At some point Remus stops talking for a second, observing the lithium bulbs through the fountain streams and bubbles floating across the courtyard. For a moment, he thinks he’s never been this happy in his life, these last few days have been the best days of his life. He lets Jared and Payton know this and like stare at him for a moment before teasing him about going soft and a few “I love you, bro” “Dude, you mean so much to me” and such were exchanged. They leave moments before campus security’s due to do their rounds in the early morning and laugh when about an hour later they receive a campus-wide notification to avoid the courtyard for repairs.

—

Remus spends most of practice being more annoying than usual. He gets a bit more of a stern talking to than he has in a while, in response says that he’ll try to do better to prepare for the game this weekend.

—

He did not succeed and got an even sterner talking to by Coach Thomas and Joan, and then by Roman separately.

—

Remus has a brief moment of clarity regarding his spending habits from the last week and a half in the middle of his current project. His solution is instead of buying the club size container of hot sauce, he makes a trip to the Taco Bell off campus. After dropping off the rest of his goods at the apartment, it was pretty late in the evening and he was dressed in nothing but neon green basketball shorts, slides, and a pretty badly stained grey tank top. Thankfully, Florida weather permitted this, though the looks he had been receiving all day disagreed. It likely did not help that if prompted, Remus wasn’t 100% on the last time that he slept, but if he had to guess it was two or three days ago, but that was probably a maximum of five hours. Surprisingly, he had never felt so good in his life. He’s also pretty sure he’s said that a lot this week.

He leaves Taco Bell with a small meal bag full of hot sauce at no cost.

—

D doesn’t ask any questions when he uses the bathroom in the early morning and is met with the sight of Remus in the bathtub. He is covered in a large variety of substances. The floor is covered in Taco Bell hot sauce wrappers, there’s a box full of water balloons of various colours and sizes. Remus waves with his available hand before he resumes filling the current water balloon with what may be a bulk container of banana lube. D pisses, not bothering to ask Remus to leave and just pulls the shower curtain over a little before washing his hands and deciding to figure it out tomorrow.

The next day, D woke up around 10am to a few texts saying some prick is throwing weird water balloons at first years off this academic building on campus. D didn’t think much about it until he was leaving his 12:30 lecture walking past splatters of mayo, egg, egg shells, hot sauce, and more, all separately. While observing the damage he found Remus asleep on some grass outside said academic building and had to call Logan for help to get him home. The two are used to this by now and D reminds himself to tell Remus to clear his ‘great ideas’ with someone containing a braincell.

—

Remus spends a good majority of his day listening to one song in the living room of the shared apartment. He was there when D left for classes, he was there when Roman left a little later in the day, failing to go to his own classes at all that day. The second D returns for lunch Remus is trying to explain a hidden meaning in the song, D brushes it off and reminds Remus, that to pass his classes he has to at least go.

—

This is Remus’s third night out in an area of town he really doesn’t know. He went home yesterday for early practice before coming back out. He knows it didn’t go well.

In attempts to make himself feel better, he blew a guy who’s name he already forgot but was hot as hell, he lost count of the shots he’s done, but at least there’s no practice tomorrow. He doesn’t have to worry about when he goes home, doesn’t have to worry about Roman or D and their weird concerned looks. He’s doing great! Why are they concerned, they just don’t get it.

At 2 am everyone gets kicked out of the club. Remus walks six blocks with his new friends with the promise of couch space to crash on and additional alcohol.

It’s suddenly 4:47 am and Remus is the only one awake and all the booze is gone. He is sitting under lithium streetlights smoking a cigarette on the porch of a strangers house with the humid Florida wind enables him to sit comfortably without a jacket. There is a moment, with sirens in the distance that Remus lets his eyes go out of focus. For the first time in who knows how long, he feels present. There is cracked cement under his feet, a dog barking a few houses down, and he wonders why he’s even here. The hidden Prince twin, here, in a city he has only been to once for a tournament, in a stranger’s house, drunk off his ass, his phone dead. He takes time to wonder, is this fun to him? It has to be right? Why did he just leave without telling anyone? Spending nights on the streets, or finding someone to go home with just so he didn’t have to find somewhere else to sleep. Is this who he is now?

He doesn’t know if he can answer that. Remus shakes himself before putting out his cigarette on his arm and deciding it doesn’t matter.

He still doesn’t sleep that night, but plugs in his phone and decides he needs to go home soon.

—

This is a different club than the previous night, someone sold Remus a few pills earlier and he figured why not? He feels better than ever. He lets the man he’s making out with know that and he lets out a kind of raspy laugh that Remus thinks is the hottest thing. He lets the other man know that too before sticking his tongue down his throat.

—

Remus is in the park yelling. It is almost 6pm, he pauses for a moment, completely forgetting what he was yelling about. He realizes that he is pretty drunk. Remus would normally like to say he only drinks with an excuse, but he doesn’t remember why he’s drunk, or how he got to the park. This isn’t near campus, he doesn’t recognize this park at all. He just stops yelling and googles the next bus to take him home.

—

Upon arriving home and greeting D, Remus falls asleep in his room for almost 12 hours to make up for the missing sleep from the last four days. When he is woken up for food and offered tylenol for his hangover, he tries to tell them he doesn’t have one. They don’t believe him, but he takes the food. Remus makes a joke recalling how the other day all he had eaten was some stale croutons he found in a pantry and half a bottle of Fireball he found in the fridge nearby. The joke did not land, but he was too busy laughing about it to notice.

The three eat their Sunday lunch with small amounts of banter and D switching between who he agrees with based on who’s statement didn’t sound like it came from a six year old. As they clean up, Remus starts excitedly talking about something that’s topic changed around four times in one sentence. Roman feigns interest but got lost and doesn’t care enough; D listens and has to ask Remus to repeat things slower every few minutes.

—

Several times throughout the night, D hears Remus loudly leave his room to check the front door. In the early morning D doesn’t hear Remus return to his room, but faintly hears netflix turn on in the living room.

In the morning, Remus seems wary of the door but does not say anything.

—

One day while messing around in the kitchen Remus is struck with the need to just go. The urge is so strong that the more he stands still in the kitchen the more his body just begins to tremble with barely contained energy. He doesn’t quite know where he’s going yet, but as he grabs his wallet, double checking he has his bus pass and ID, a jacket, his phone, and his keys. Without telling anyone, he walks to the main exchange near campus where he hops on the first bus that arrives. The bus isn’t particularly busy, and it makes it easier for him as he settles into the back of the bus bopping to his music, but not having the focus to listen to a song all the way through. He hits his hands softly on the very 90’s looking patterned seats to the beat of the song, watching out the windows with both legs bouncing. He rides this bus to the end of the line and catches the next bus to arrive at that bus exchange that takes him into a new smaller city. The sun is beginning to set and he finds a pub to grab some food and a few drinks at.

An hour and a half and four drinks later Remus is fighting some asshole in the pub and they both get kicked out. He wanders these smaller streets buzzed and poking at forming bruises while he smokes a cigarette. He walks by a convenience store and two homeless men outside ask him for a cigarette, he shares and spends a solid amount of time socializing with them and gets some booze for his troubles. They eventually part ways when one of them come out from the bathroom with a pack of stolen cookies. The store attendant chases them away and Remus finds himself wandering down empty streets again. Eventually, Remus decides to sleep for a few hours curled up in a stairwell, he doesn’t quite sleep, but does relax. Again, in the sounds of small city life, yellowed flickering light bulbs, and humid wind, Remus wonders why he’s out here.

—

The flashing neon lights and bass heavy music resonate through Remus’s bones like electricity giving him a never ending feedback loop of energy. Just before the club closes Remus sweet-talks a kind of nerdy looking guy into taking him home, while he’s mostly just hoping to not sleep outside tonight, getting laid wont hurt either.

—

Sneaking out of someone’s house before they wake up isn’t something Remus is necessarily proud of, but he doesn’t want to risk them doing something cheesy like make him breakfast. Sorry sir, Remus is a Manic Pixie Nightmare Boy, do not catch feelings, do not use for your own character development. He laughs to himself a little walking down the morning rush streets.

—

After waking up in bed with a man he doesn’t remember meeting the night before is a little jarring, but this is not the first time. It makes him wonder briefly if something is wrong with him. Remus is tired. Exhausted with himself and getting a little tired of this much fun. Instead of finding a diner for breakfast he catches a bus home and asks Logan if they can hang out tomorrow. If anyone will force him to go home, go to practice, sleep and not give him a choice to study or not without expecting him to explain himself. It will be everyone’s favourite Large Nerd. Remus doesn’t know what’s happening or why he feels like this, but he needs to go home and stop this for a little bit.Virgil, D, and Logan will help him get things a little back on track.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #hockey au #bipolar disorder #university au #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remus prince #roman prince #d foster

[masosade]

A Second Chance

“I would’ve dropped  you off at Neil’s, but he’s been trying my patience lately. So why bother? I am sure someone will come pick you up eventually.” Alice smiled coldly as she watched formerly half-of Maso take his first shaky steps out of the grimdark Office. The body she had salvaged from another unfortunate Stellan - one whose soul had been reincarnated after his young demise – had been patched up and handed down.

"And remember! If you ever come back to cuase trouble in the grimdark Office again, your death will be an exceptionally long and painful one!" Alice chirped, her fingernails digging into Stellan's shoulder painfully. He jerked back, wincing, and averted his eyes.  

“Perfect! I am glad we understand each other. Now, off you go, shoo!”

Stellan turned down the hallway. It was unfamiliar, looked like every other Office they’ve been to. With a sinking heart, he remembered he wouldn’t have Bradley here to guide him. He wished he would’ve paid more attention to their previous travels.

However, the things out there were most likely much better than what he was leaving behind. He felt Alice’s gaze linger a few seconds longer as he limped away, before she vanished back in her Office.

And then Stellan was alone.

His new body ached and stung from the stitches Jagger had put in after it had been rescued from a grave. Its eyes felt weak and its feet clumsily stumbled over each other. Either they had given him a second rate body to sit in, or he had to get used to having a body on his own for the first time in years.

It was ironic, actually. Stellan had dreamed of owning a very own body for himself on many occaisons, one where he could do what he want and go wherever, with no one else there to tell him what to do. Now he just felt cold and empty. He wished Bradley were here to fill the silence. When he reached out for that presence at the forefront of his mind, he felt nothing but hollow numbness, like tonguing a missing tooth.

Finally free and Stellan was fucking miserable.

He made his way down the hallways, taking random turns in whatever direction felt like it could lead him somewhere better. The Lounge sat empty, its seats covered in thick dust and the vending machine leaking with unidentifiable fluids. Not an abnormal sight to see, if rare, but some Offices shut down after their Stanleys and Narrators leave, or are killed, or kidnapped, or fall in love and move to another one, abandoning their original Offices.

It felt like the Universe took great joy in mocking Stellan, reminding him of how utterly alone he was. For the first time in years, he wanted to find a bottle that smelled as strongly as the juices drenching the Lounge’s carpets and drink it until he forgot everything but the burning in his throat. He had curbed his alcoholism nearly a decade prior, dreaming without it he could hold a good job, pull himself out of the mess his life had become and afford starting again in a better community.

Ever since he took the first step for change, accepting an office job promising to uphold a decent lifestyle, things haven’t stopped spiraling downwards.

‘Maybe I should’ve stayed a drunkard,’ Stellan thought bitterly as he focused on placing a foot in front of the other. Both the pain and the fogginess in his mind made it difficult to walk straight.

‘Ending up with liver poison and a friendly face per night would’ve been a much better fate. Hell, I could’ve met someone nice and spent an average life with them. But noo, I had to become a better person and start dreaming. And look where that got me.’

So wrapped up in his self loathing, Stellan didn’t notice another Stanley standing in the middle of the hallway until he nearly ran straight into him. In a flash, his thoughts had vanished and he couldn’t help stare.

The other Stanley...looked normal enough. He had the typical brown hair parted in the middle and messy with a morning look, warm brown eyes, and freckles scattered playfully on his nose. His employee outfit clean and nicely ironed; the nametag which read 'Hi! My name is Stanley!' looked new.

He looked normal but he didnt feel normal. This Office was abandoned, no doubt, so where had he come from? If he were a new Stanley, surely he would be frightened with the change of scenery and lack of directions.

Yet he simply stood there and smiled at Stellan, like they had agreed to meet up and Stanley was happy he came.

"Uhh?" Stellan tried and his vocal cords cringed at the unaccustomed strain. He coughed awkwardly and tried again, this time managing a hoarse mutter.

“H-hey, can you help me? I think I’m lost.”

"Of course I can help!" The Stanley said, his voice surprisingly gentle. He offered his hand for Stellan to take. "Come with me, I can take you somewhere safe!"

His eyes gleamed brightly in the dim hallway and for a moment Stellan wondered if he had stumbled upon another illusion of a Jonathan. Maybe it had been abandoned after the Narrator left and was never taken care of. But when Stellan hesitantly took his hand, it was warm and human to the touch. Not even Jonathan could imagine an illusion that felt so real.

The other Stanley beamed with joy and Stellan glanced away.

The Office looked even worse than Stellan had expected. Beyond the Lounge, as they headed back towards room 427, he noticed some rooms had their ceilings caved in, others with windows shattered. The left door was blocked completely with some filing cabinets but his mysterious guide didn't bat an eye at the havoc.

They turned into another hallway past room 420, and headed deeper. Stellan gave up trying to make sense of where they are going so he focused on the warm hand clutching his. It felt so foreign to be holding it and comforting at the same time.

“You’ve got a long journey behind you, don’t you?” The other Stanley said, sometime after they passed through another portal finally, into another Office. It smelled warm like a heated kitchen and no matter how hard Stellan looked, he couldnt find even one piece of stray paper on the ground.

“You dont know the half of it,” Stellan muttered. He tried to focus on walking, grateful for the hand clutching his. Without it he would’ve surely tripped over his own feet.

“I think I might,” Stanley said, smiling. Stellan shot him a questioning look, but he didn’t offer to elaborate.

“...did someone send you to get me?”

“This way.”

It’s been barely an hour, they couldn’t have known the exact moment I was released, could they?

Whoever they were. Countless of people around the Offices stuck their nosy noses in other people’s business. Stellan could name ten on the top of his head who may have had even the abandoned Offices bugged, grimdarks and the laboratories of one certain evil Narrator included.

Maybe it was desperation talking, or his inability to care about what pain could be further induced on him at this point, emotional or physical. But the other Stanley didnt feel evil. Even if he was mysterious, came out of nowhere and now held a tight grip to his hand as they wandered further into the hallway’s mazes.

If he wanted to hurt Stellan, he could have done it by now.

Unless he is taking you back to the laboratories, a tiny voice quipped.

I’m useless now. Bradley has the body, not me.

You’re not useless. Their whole experiments were centered around pain, werent they? Maybe they’re trying to see how far they can break you.

… then let them. I don’t give a shit anymore, and if they want to fuse me with more Bradleys. I’m tired. I don’t care.

Stanley stopped suddenly in front of a door. He turned back to Stellan and, while he never stopped smiling, it brightened when he looked at him.

“In here.” Stanley said.

“What…?” Stellan glanced at the door. “What’s in there?”

“Oh, didnt I already say? It’s a second chance for both of you.”

Both? Stellan stared in bewilderment and got a knowing smile as an answer.

Wait...

“...Bradley….Bradley is in there too?” How did he get past Alice and her security and her monsters to get him out? She was very clear in what she wanted to do with his other half and how she would maim anyone who tried to free Bradley of his ‘punishment’. Even if the ‘good guys’ wanted to save Bradley, it wouldnt make any sense. Stellan’s own alternate, one of those self proclaimed Office Heroes, even he took part in their capture.

“Life is more than hurting and getting hurt.” The other Stanley continued, infuriatingly vague. “We all have done things we regret, but it doesnt mean we need to suffer for the rest of our lives for it.”

He reached out and cupped his hands around Stellan’s face, and Stel startled at how warm they were. Ever snce Maso – no. Ever since the Office, the hands touching him had been cruel, painful. Cold fingers of scientists prodding, Jagger and his scalpels, agony created by Alice and his very own hands. And yet Stanley’s were so gentle, soft and merciful. Stellan leaned into the touch unconsciously.

His chest stung with an unwanted tightness.

“You’re going to be okay.” The Stanley said. “You and him. I promise.”

Stel was tempted to bite back with sarcasm, but it felt ungrateful to spoil his optimism with bitterness. Instead he hung his head, ashamed.

“We dont deserve a second chance,” he muttered. The hands withdrew from his face and even in the surprisingly warm Office air, Stel felt colder. He waited, but no reply came and when he looked  up again, the hallway was empty.

The other Stanley had vanished.

Stellan sighed and turned back to the door. It looked so simple a few minutes ago and now it seemed more daunting, at the thought of seeing him again. Bradley might blame him for leaving him alone, but Stellan was more afraid he wouldn’t hesitate a second if Bradley offered him a chance to come back.

Anything was better than suffering alone. At least Bradley understood him.

Stellan gathered up his nerves and reached out for the door handle. It stuck, forcing him to rattle it a few times before he managed to get it open. His heart beat hard in his throat.

Now or never, he thought. The door swung open and Stellan stepped inside.

A single desk lamp struggled to light the room, though its glow couldn't reach past the cramped corner in which the cot sat. On the cot, wrapped in a few dozens blankets crouched a figure. Stellan couldn't make out its features so he hesitantly tried a,

"Bradley?"

The figure shuddered. As Stellan took another careful step inside, letting the door swing shut behind him, it shifted and a tired, tear stricken face peered out from underneath the sheets.

Stellan froze and he could feel his heart sink to his stomach.

That wasn’t his Bradley.

#drabble #x i cant do this anymore #dun dun duunnn #also this was started like two months ago #back then alice was still rather annoyed at neil for whatever reason and so she just kicked stel out #she did plan on letting neil have him (for a price ofc) but then something happened and she was too pissed at him to make that offer #well yknow he just trolled her #long post

[odderancyart]

Dog Collar

Based on these tweets

AO3

During the two days he’d been stuck in Underfell, Stretch had seen a lot. The one time he dared take down one of the planks covering the windows, he’d immediately been met by the sight of a fight in the middle of the street upon which Edge – his asshole counterpart – had soon appeared and terrified the bunny and the bear out of the fight until they cowered before him. After that he’d never tried to leave the house again. Yeah, his HP wasn’t low, per se, at 140, but he didn’t doubt every monster out there had tons of intent.

Not least because he’d felt the intent Edge radiated when he found him in his house, before Red could explain. It had been enough to have him flinching away, and Stretch wouldn’t call himself an easily frightened monster.

He’d almost been dusted in the forest too, by the dogs – because in this universe, it was apparently the dogs who guarded Snowdin, not the bunnies. Hadn’t Red appeared the right moment, he would undoubtedly just be another pile of dust in Snowdin forest. One of many, tainting the air and the snow. Turning it grey and making it taste like ash. It made him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

Yet, nothing quite upset him as much as seeing that damned collar around Red’s neck. He glared viciously at it as he lounged in the living room couch, waiting for the other to finish his reports to the King – another difference, King Asgore was here and Queen Toriel was gone – so they could go down and work on the Machine. He really wanted to go home. Sans must be worried sick. But right now, he had something even more serious to worry about. How Edge, who was him, had apparently claimed ownership of his brother.

Wasn’t that the most fucked up thing he’d ever seen?

Heck yeah it was.

“Heh,” Red said, making him twitch. He looked up from the papers he had spread out on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow. “Ya got a problem wi’ my face, buddy? Yer lookin’ like yer tryin’ ta glare a hole in me.”

A blush lit up Stretch’s cheeks as he shook his head. He scooted over to Red’s side of the couch, ignoring how Red’s eyelights followed him with badly hidden amusement. After a moment of hesitation, he reached up to hook a finger around the crimson spiked collar around Red’s neck. Red blinked, surprise and confusion flashing over his face. He dropped his pen onto the table, and it clattered as it landed.

“Not you,” Stretch said. “This.”

Red frowned, staring at him like he was crazy. Hot rage rushed through Stretch. Stars. Edge had Red so brainwashed he didn’t even realize how messed up this was.

“What about it?”

“It’s really fricking messed up, Red, that’s what about it.” Offence flashed over Red’s face, and a noise akin to a growl escaped him. A warning. Stretch took no notice of it. “Red, your brother is a fucking asshole-” Something dark swept over Red’s face. “-and a dangerous one at that, but I can accept that because your universe is a hellscape. But this is going too far!”

“What th’ hell are ya going on about?” Red exclaimed. His hand flew up to where Stretch’s fingers still were hooked around his collar and pried them off, squeezing tight.

Wincing in pain, Stretch threw up with his free hand. “He put a dog collar on you! That’s messed up, man! Claiming ownership like that over his own brother.”

“Wha-” Red cut himself off, gaping. He let go off Stretch’s hand as his own fell to the couch, limp. With wide eyes, he stared at Stretch in complete astonishment before a mix of fury and concern filled his eyes. He lifted his hand again to jerk at his collar. “This is a fuckin’ accessory, buddy. Fashion. Look it up. What’s wrong with ya? Wha’ kinda place- I thought yer universe was supposed ta be all sunshine an’ rainbows?!”

Now it was Stretch’s turn to gape. His soul pounded against his ribcage as he looked down on Red’s flabbergasted expression, but when he tried to speak, he couldn’t get a word out.

The door slammed open, a cold wind sweeping in and rustling Red’s papers, and both of them jumped. Red’s eyes flickered between him and the newcomer as Stretch twisted around, his breath catching, just in time to see Edge close the door again and lock all four locks. The lieutenant of the Royal Guard was in black armour with that torn, blood-red scarf around his neck. Three deep scars ran down over his eyes, reminiscent of the crack leading from Red’s, up on his skull. His perpetual scowl was covering his face, as always.

“Ey, boss,” Red said, incredulity shining through his voice. “Seems like Underswap ain’t as nice as we thought.”

“Oh?” Edge marched over to them, crossing his arms as he glared down at them both. Stretch’s soul froze over. By Toriel, his counterpart was terrifying. “Do elaborate on that, brother.”

“Stretch thought my collar was yer claim o’ ownership. That’s messed up.” He glanced at Stretch. “Like. Yeah our universe ain’t the nicest place but holy hell, at least we don’t do slavery.”

“What the absolute fuck.” Edge’s voice was collected but Stretch thought he could see horror shine through his gaze.

“Hey!” he protested, raising an arm like he was back in school. “We don’t do slavery either.”

Both of them turned to look at him. From the way they stared, he was certain neither of them believed him.

“Then why th’ fuck did ya make that assumption?” Red demanded, sticking his hands in his pockets and scooting away from him until he was basically sitting on the armrest, next to where his brother was standing.

Edge’s expression was passive as he met Stretch’s gaze, but there was something unidentifiable in his eyes. “I am glad to hear that you think so little of me that you seriously think I’d enslave my brother, ashtray.” He turned his back to him, only casting a gaze on Red before he stepped toward the staircase. “I will change clothes, and then I am off to see Undyne, Sans. You know your orders.”

Glancing at Edge, Red nodded. “Sure, boss.” Edge’s door clicked closed, and Red fixed his eyes on Stretch. Sweat slid down Stretch’s neck and he swallowed, leaning backwards. He couldn’t read the other at all and had no idea what the hell he was thinking, or planning. After a couple moments of tense silence, Edge came back out, now in black jeans and a leather jacket, and left through the front door without giving either of them a single look.

“Welp, ‘m going ta Grillby’s,” Red said, startling him, and jumped off the couch. Without a sound, he teleported over to the door. He glared at Stretch. “Ya stay right. There. And when ‘m back, yer going ta explain exactly wha’s going on in yer universe, and then yer going ta apologize ta th’ boss.”

Stretch couldn’t do more than nod quickly, wide-eyed, before Red was gone. Once again, he’d shortcutted without a sound. How he did that, Stretch wasn’t sure. His own shortcuts were never silent.

Swallowing again, he picked up his phone and wrote his brother a message he likely wouldn’t ever receive. His soul raced, and his fingers shook as he tapped in the letters. Love you, bro.

Living had been fun.

#underfell #underswap #uf sans #us papyrus #uf papyrus #dog collars #collaring #red's going to grillby's to spy and listen for dangerous rumours btw #if anyone was wondering #my writing

[cinnamaldeide]

Fannibal Appreciation Day #FannibalFicRecs: Supernatural Elements Edition

After the success of this post for @hannibalficwriters and because there’s never enough fic rec posts, I decided to provide another list of stories I personally recommend, this time around focusing my attention on stories which contains supernatural elements. I know anyone can see my bookmarks whenever they want and I know it’s been a while since the last time I did something like this, but the Fannibal Appreciation Day seemed a perfect occasion to remember everybody how much of a beautiful, creative group of writers we are. This is a day to show our love, to send some good vibes, to share our appreciation to those who make this fandom a better place, who dedicate their time to have a good time and improve my own, along with that of many, many other fannibals like me :) This is my humble offering to your talent and to your presence, you gave me something I wouldn’t find anywhere else in the world.

Altered perceptions » Colourless by @mazephoenix

Summary: Since Hannibal vanished Will has lost his ability to see color.

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

This brief post-WoTL story portrays the intense ache Will would experience, were he to lose Hannibal after their experience with the Red Dragon. Will could come back home, to his house, to his dogs, eventually to his work, but the world would never be the same. Not without that unique soul that depicted every else in his life in bright light.

Biological Abnormalities » Nature and Nurture (ongoing serie) by @thenecronon

Summary: In which Will’s empathy is more than a quirk of his biology, and his biology is more than human.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Franklyn Froideveaux, Donald Sutcliffe

I learned to love this writer with this amazing, fucked up story, and here I am, coming back at it full force to recommend anyone with a stomach for oviposition to read it and its sequel. Neither Will nor Hannibal know what happens in Will’s body, which regularly sends Will into heat and produces unidentified substances, they just know they’ll see where their close encounter will lead.

Cursed objects » The Feast is Life by @rubybakeneko

Summary: Following an impulsive purchase, Will begins to dream of a man who makes him feel less alone. In time, he realizes that these aren’t just dreams—they’re interactions with someone (or something) real. Hannibal offers Will the possibility of a life together, but it will come at a price.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom, Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham’s Dogs

Will knows loneliness intimately, it has been with him all his life. Presented with the chance to depart from its vicious grip, Will doesn’t realize his desire for companionship is so strong as to make him a vulnerable target for manipulative individuals like Hannibal. He’ll learn that trusting someone that makes you feel right might eventually make you realise how wicked you’ve been all along. 

Devil » Unveiled by @beatricenius

Summary: Hannibal meets a stranger in a bar who claims to be the devil. He just might believe it.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

This delightful story features two non-human creatures exploring intimacy in their human bodies and feelings. The author pictures with clarity the way they study the way the other handles his drink, their lazy chat around something more than a simple rendezvous in an insignificant bar, their dismissive gesture to show it’s not important if, by the end of the night, there’ll be sex at all.

Dragons » Headwaters by @whreflections

Summary: Years ago, Mischa Lecter fled the Nazis with the rest of her family, leaving behind their home, Castle Lecter, and the lesser god that inhabited it- Hannibal, a dark but immensely loyal creature who had served their family for generations. He adored her, more than all the others, and would have kept her with him forever. Instead, he lost her, and has admitted no one to the house since. After his grandmother's death, though, Will Graham doesn't really have anywhere to call home. With all the stories she told him about growing up in Castle Lecter (and about Hannibal, most of all), he can't pass up the chance that he just might belong somewhere after all.

Teen and Up Audience

Graphic Depictions Of Violence 

Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Mischa Lecter

I already promoted this beautiful work, but I’ll repeat myself if necessary. This delicate story portrays Hannibal and his painful ties with the Lecter castle he can’t abandon. His loyalty compels him to remain in its domain, where Will is going to find him, so that he’ll be able to put an end to their solitude. Mischa couldn’t remain with him forever, but maybe he’ll not be lonely anymore.

Faeries » My crown on the head of a creature (ongoing) by Mx_Carter

Summary: The faery that calls itself Hannibal Lecter happens across a homeless Will Graham on a cold evening and offers him a bed for the night. Things... escalate.

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

In this beautiful, promissing Universe, supernatural elements and suspance mingle in a captivating combination. Will is wary of accepting Hannibal’s ospitality, despite the cold winder freezing his bones. He just doens’t suspect Hannibal’s true nature, which Will knows intimately. If he learned something from his previous experience with faes, it’s that they cannot be trusted.

Familiars » Dodging the dog by @fhimechan

Summary: AU where Will and Hannibal try to kill each other by proxy, but “proxy” means “deadly animals.”

General Audience

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham’s Dogs, Beverly Katz

This certainly isn’t the classic way to murder, for either of our beloved murderers, but I can grant you it would have been a much funnier show if Will started trying to murder Hannibal through unconventional means, like he does in this story. The animals aren’t actual familiars, but their role is quite similiar. Will’s reckoning has never been furrier.

Ghosts » Let us pray that hell may not separate us by @soyonscruels

Summary: “Pure empathy,” says Hannibal Lecter, and it will be some time before he realises his mistake. “Pure empathy,” lies Will Graham, in careful agreement, and knows that it’s only a matter of time before he’s found out. “That must be quite a burden to bear,” says Hannibal, and Will meets his eyes, sips his tea, and knows, for once in his life, that he is not the only liar in the room.

Explicit

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Freddie Lounds, Beverly Katz, Jack Crawford

This delicate rendition of Will’s surreal existence, made up of lies and isolation, shows his deep, twisted desire to stop hiding himself. He’s always been the way he is, able to see without withdrawing, he just needs to find someone to understand him as clearly. Will’s life has been a ghost story, with himself as protagonist, until Hannibal came around.

Kitsunes » Breath and Blood and Burning by @thesilverqueenlady

Summary: It’s true that originally Hannibal had had no intention of interacting with Will Graham besides toying with him for the small pleasure it would bring him before Hannibal moves on to the next skin, the next name, the next tail. And then Will stomps away shouting about field kabuki, and, really, that was too great an opportunity for Hannibal to pass up. So Hannibal does the reasonable thing and starts the arduous process of turning Will into a fellow kitsune.

Teen and Up Audience

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Will’s becoming has always been matter of great interest. Hannibal has tried to show him his great potential with his means. In this story, Hannibal sees in Will the potential to become a secular creature capable of surviving time and changes, if only Will abandons his human nature. Hannibal is eager to bend it, to gain a worthy companion.

Mutants » Lot 166 by @highermagic

Summary:  Mutant trade is a legal activity. Hannibal has never been inclined to buy one for himself, but then Jack asks him to attend a Verger auction to acquire a special asset for the FBI. What he gets is Will, one of Mason’s “Special Projects.” Whether Will can be useful to the FBI remains to be seen, but now Hannibal legally owns a mutant slave, and things promise to get very... messy.

Explicit

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Jack Crawford, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Margot Verger, Mason Verger, Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, Brian Zeller, Eva, Bedelia Du Maurier, Anthony Dimmond, Doctor Sutcliffe, Francis Dolarhyde, Dr. Cordell Doemling

Hannibal cannot resist his curiosity, when he’s presented with a mysterious individual with no warnings on his label. Hannibal doesn’t know exactly in what’s he’s getting involved, but unraveling Will’s abilities is not as immediate as it would be with other mutants and Hannibal is nothing if not patient, especially if Will proves himself as interesting as he seems.

Powers » To Welcome in the Year by @coloredink

Summary: Dr. Hannibal Lecter can control time in small, localized ways, but he no longer uses it in surgery; Will Graham can repair small objects, but he works for the FBI. It has been winter for as long as anyone can remember. That's how the story begins.

Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs

In this beautiful retelling of the first two seasons, where the use one has for his own ability is more telling than the ability itself, Hannibal is surprised that Will never considered not to use his gift, wasting what good would be lost. A metaphorical scenario where forgiveness comes with the weight of a physical touch and the cold engulfing them both is not merely a figure of speech.

Serendipity » Astronomical Odds by @xzombiexkittenx

Summary: Based on the joke: Picked up a hitchhiker last night. He said, “Thanks! how do you know I’m not a serial killer though?” I replied, “The chances of two serial killers being in the same car are astronomical.”

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Considering the little chances of such a meeting ever occurring, I deliberately decided that fate has something to do with this fortunate encounter. How else would Will find Hannibal so interesting so soon? Will has never been a fortunate man in his life, if one watches the serie, but in this story he might have the chance to obtain some happines without compromissing his already dark moral.

Time rewind » At First Meeting by @emungere

Summary: Will relives the day he met Hannibal.

Teen And Up Audiences

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Despite the pain, the suffering and the anger that paved Will and Hannibal’s friendship, which Hannibal embraced and fostered much sooner than Will did, there’s not a different world or reality as fulfilling as that where Will ends up in Hannibal’s arms, bloody and victorious. No matter how many opportunities Will had at his disposal. He couldn’t be satisfied with anything less than his version. 

Transformations » Velvet by @avegetariancannibal

Summary: After the fall, a transformation takes place.

Not Rated

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Assisting Hannibal in his time of need, bloody and bedridden, Will realizes their survival is real, as are the changings happening to themy. Some manifest themselves more physically cumbersome than others. Will needs more pillows than he expected in his new existence, but it’s ok. Neither Hannibal nor himself are to experience alone whatever the future holds for the both of them.

Vampires » Mythics - Prelude by @bokuno-jinsei

Summary: Will is a hunter of mythical creatures, employed to bring mythics who fail to adhere to the new laws and order of society in to justice. When a falsified contract leads him to Hannibal’s doorstep, however, things become rather complicated. But honestly, when it’s a world of demons and monsters and magic, when are things not complicated?

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford

In a darkish steampunk scenario, where Hannibal is a vampire and Will hunts those of his kind, where mythical creature and humans are still to find their balance in a civil society, chaos seems to engulf everyone in its thick fog of confusion. This writer beautifully captures Will’s attempts at navigating his way between subtle lies and unstable suppositions.

Werewolves » Beasts (ongoing) by @aametis

Summary: Hannibal tells a lie about his sex life and has to live with the consequences. Will doesn’t lie but he doesn’t tell the truth either.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Original Male Character

Trusting Hannibal even outside of his psychiatric office, Will decides to show hims something incredible, something rather personal and disturbing to witness. To his luck, Hannibal hardly shies away from what he doesn’t understand. His ability to observe with interest, without judging Will for his choices, is probably everything Will has ever wanted from another human being.

Wishbabies » With a Crown of Stars by @thehoyden

Summary: When the call connects, Will says, “I know what kind of crazy I am, but I’m not this kind of crazy.” “Will?” Dr. Lecter says. “Yes, hi, sorry,” Will says. “It’s me. There’s a baby on my porch.”

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, Freddie Lounds, Abel Gideon

When two people want to make a baby and it's not happening biologically, if they wish very, very hard-- well, Will and Hannibal didn’t know, but apparently they wanted one, so here they are and Hannibal suddenly feel like treating that encephalitis. There are in fact means of influence other than violence, family is a concept the both of them need to explore together.

Witches » A Soft Hoodwink of Shadows (serie) by @zigzag-wanderer

Summary: Something a little creepy...

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Will Graham’s Dogs, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Jack Crawford, Original Female Character(s)

The real magic elements in this work are the wonderful descriptions of this impressive, poetic author, whom conjures entire landscapes of green and grim, of silence and mist, the kind where one gets lost and is never to be found again. Will escapes with his daughter somewhere far away, somewhere where strange is normal, but he discovers something stranger waits for him right next door.

This is kind of personal, I included writers with whom I daily interacted, whose beautiful souls I saw, among those who have been in this fandom from the beginning and never left it. I’m just sorry I mostly read Hannigraham and I don’t have more names to offer.

I cannot thank enough all those rebloggers who allowed my followers to know I existed, like @h4nnibalism or @crisisoninfintefandoms, all those gifted authors who help @fhimechan and me with the Accidental Sex initiative, all those artists and groups that provide new material despite our interrupted situation, all those patient readers who comment and like my own works, as well as those considerate souls that actually rec my stories or calling me out on their Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day, like @hannibalsimago and @littlethingwithfeathers, so that I feel appreciated in turn.

As @the-winnowing-wind said, this is a beautiful day to flail about our incredible fandom. To whomever still has to come, You’re welcome. To whomever is still here after all this time, Thank you. You made so many of my days.

#Hannibal (nbc) #Fannibal Appreciation Day #NotDeadYet #Hannigraham #Reading Suggestion #Multiple fic rec #Supernatural Elements edition #I love you all so much guys #Keep doing what you do #Original post #Sfw

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Phanniemay 2018 - Day 1

Prompt: Electricity

Alternate Universe: Wes inclusive, no Phantom Planet, Danny age ~16, can be seen as a sequel to Camera Shy

Pairing: Implied/Pre Unidentified Flying Ship (Danny x Wes) but can be read as friendship

Rating: G+ (Because teenagers don’t know when to stop swearing.)

Author Notes: Haaa. You all thought I was going to be on time and upload these day by day? No, where’s the fun in that. It’s catch up time. Day 19 and I’m just now posting the first prompt. Gods above and below help me.

Summary: Wes, as an official member of Team Phantom, has taken on the role of keeping an eye on Danny’s vitals between Fenton and Phantom. It would be easier, of course, if Fenton didn’t keep calling his very important journal a diary.

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::

“Electricity? Seriously? Are you sure you don’t mean it just feels cold, or something?” Danny Phantom floated in front of him with a dubious expression that had Wes frowning and no, he very much did not mean cold, thank you.

“Definitely electricity- No, maybe more like static?” Wes held his hand out again, Danny sighing as he placed his fingers on Wes’ palm and turned the both of them intangible, Wes shivering at the feeling. It was almost the same feeling as when he took off a shirt filled with static electricity, only instead of just his chest it was everywhere. “Not cold.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude. Sam and Tuck never noticed anything weird about it.” Grabbing the notebook Wes had forced Danny to start to keep track of his powers and health, he quickly jotted down the observations. “Really? It’s going in the stupid health book?”

“Yes, it’s going in the stupid health book.” To spite him, Wes flipped open his camera and took a picture of Danny quickly, grinning as the flash startled him into floating back. “Evidence.”

“Ass. Come on, then, what’s next? Wanna tell me my ice powers feel cold, now?” Rolling his eyes and ignoring the floating teenager full of bitter sass, Wes flipped through the pages they had already written in.

“Actually, that might be a good idea. Here.” Wes held out his hand, blinking as Danny took it in his own. He was about to make a joke before he was yelping and jerking his hand back fast enough to near send him out of his seat, Danny cackling as Wes tried to get the fucking ice off his hand. “And you called me an ass?!”

“Calm down, it melts pretty quick like that.” Thankfully, Danny was right and the ice was already rapidly melting. “So? What’d that feel like?”

“Like hot tea. What do you think it felt like!” Making an observational note that Fenton was the biggest ass in all of Amity Park-

“All of Amity Park, really? That seems a bit excessive-”

“Don’t read over my shoulder!” Swatting him away with the book, Wes grinned at the yelp it earned him.

“Alright, alright! Jeez, there’s no need to be so testy about it.” Danny huffed, floating around Wes to hover over his shoulder and read the book that Wes was writing in again. “I still don’t see why we need to keep a stupid health diary.”

“It’s a journal, not a diary. Diaries are for people who aren’t comfortable with who they are.” There was a beat of silence, Danny opening his mouth before Wes narrowed his eyes. “We are in a room full of ghost weapons. Think carefully.”

“So am I dying horribly, then?” What do you know, Fenton really could learn. A miracle, truly. “Or, you know-”

“You make too many dying puns. Yeah, you’re fine, I just wanted to see if anything changed when you were actually using your powers. I can’t believe you lot haven’t thought to do any of this before.”

“We just took enough vitals to know when something was going wrong,” Danny shrugged, sounding unconcerned as he changed back, Wes grabbing his wrist and counting his pulse at once. “Oh, come on, seriously?”

“Someone needs to keep you alive, Fenton. Might as well be me.” Waiting until he had a number, Wes nodded and jotted it down. “I’m taking it again in five minutes. It’s higher than when you’re a ghost, but lower than it usually is when you’re at rest.”

“Weird.” Pausing at the tone of voice, Wes glanced up to see Danny fiddling with his phone. “Are you sure we should keep a journal? I mean, we’ll probably lose it. Journals get lost pretty easily.” Ah, so that was the problem.

“Yeah, they do get lost pretty easily, I guess.” Wes closed the book after writing the numbers down, looking to Danny seriously. “But not this one.” Wes remembered how crazy the Guys-in-White had been when it came to finding Phantom, and he knew there were just as many other people out there who wanted to know how a ghost worked. Any page in this book could ruin Danny’s life. “Is that why you don’t keep records of all of this?”

“No.” Danny sighed, shaking his head. “Yes. Sort of. It was- At first it was more that if I didn’t write it down then maybe it wasn’t real, or it was just temporary.” Ah, the observer effect or whatever. Danny’s mind would go straight to science, wouldn’t it? “Once I realized it wasn’t going away… It seemed dangerous. I mean, I live in a house with ghost hunters.”

“You really should tell them about all of this, you know.” Raising his hands peacefully at the look, Wes shook his head. “Hey, no, trust me, I’m all about keeping things from your parents, but I’m just saying that it would probably be pretty nice to have ghost experts helping you out when you need it.”

“I-” Whatever fight he was gearing up for left him, Danny sighing and slumping back against the doorway. “Yeah. I just- It’s stupid. I know they’ll accept me, but-”

“What if, right?” Wes startled as Danny fell against him, head laying on his shoulder and right, right. Danny could be affectionate as hell. This explained why he was always cuddled up to Sam and Tucker all the time. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, man. You’ve lasted this long after all, right?”

“Yeah.” Danny’s gaze trailed to the journal, Wes frowning. Maybe… Maybe it was more than just not wanting to acknowledge what had happened and then being scared about others finding out. Maybe Danny was afraid of the changes that he might see over time.

“Jesus, you’re depressing.” Wes grabbed Danny’s wrist before flipping it over and taking the pulse again, counting quietly under his breath. “Okay, it rose back to normal.” Wes wrote the numbers down before flipping through the already impressive amount of pages. “Same as yesterday and every other day before it.”

“You’re not subtle,” Danny snorted, hiding a smile against Wes’ shoulder. “Alright, my turn, come on. We’ve been here way too long and it’s time to eat a bunch of unhealthy food!” Danny was pulling Wes up at once, jabbering on about things that didn’t matter as he pulled Wes towards the stairs.

“Oh.” Wes’ quiet understanding was lost in the flow of words, but that was fine because Wes got it now. Danny’s powers didn’t feel like electricity because of some ghost thing or because of how he got his powers. That wasn’t it at all. It was because Danny was electric.

Even before Wes had really taken notice of him he knew enough to know the kid was smart, friendly, hyper, and could probably best be described as a human golden retriever. His entire personality was electric to the point he made friends out of people as easily as Wes took pictures. Maybe that was one of the reasons the kid was Danny Phantom, too. With a personality like that, Wes doubted he could see someone in trouble and not help.

“-do you think?” Startling at the question, Wes blinked at Danny, the other looking more amused than anything else. “Did you just hear anything I said?”

“I think it sounds great.” Wes didn’t know what the hell he had just agreed to, but he couldn’t really find himself upset about it when Danny was beaming and looking happier than should be possible.

Maybe being on ‘Team Phantom’ wasn’t so bad, after all.

#danny phantom #phanniemay18 #pm18d1 #wes #unidentified flying ship #everafterphanniemay18 #wes weston

[strangcrdoctor]

∞Okay last one for the night because I am really tired and very ready for bed but I’ve gotta get in my Avengers commentary because I have to start off tomorrow on a clean slate and ready to go. Thus, here we are.

1. In lieu of only post Infinity War MCU canon, Loki’s rhetoric at the very beginning of The Avengers sounds a fucking lot like Maw’s. In the initial scenes when he’s fresh off the Tesseract Express his words and way of speaking sound nothing like his own. Even comparing his speeches at the outset of the movie versus the one he makes in Stuttgart, the tones and focuses of them are very different. (IE the first speech focuses on the “powers at be” versus the Stuttgart speech focusing on Loki’s personal opinions of humanity which are more and more developed throughout the film.) But it struck me that these first scenes are precisely on-cue for someone tortured and brainwashed by, say, The Black Order. 2. Given I literally just watched the first Captain America yesterday, I find Cap’s “old fashioned” comment about the stars and stripes on his uniform to be both sad and interesting. Especially given the context that comparatively Cap hasn’t been “up” for very long, one particular comment made to him by Schmidt literally moments before he went into the ice stands out. Schmidt says that through the Tesseract he glimpsed the future, and that there were no flags. In the America and world Steve wakes up to, compared to the world of the 1940s that claim of Schmidt’s could very suddenly appear to be true, which would be understandably uncomfortable for someone like Steve who is usually determined and quick on his feet but at such a staggering disadvantage because of the gap between his mindset and that of his contemporaries which are more varied than he necessarily knows how to quantify right at the outset. Watching his progress throughout the MCU in light of that is interesting, but that one moment of introspection about the utility of the “stars and stripes” is a uniquely postmodern comment coming from a pre-modern/modern man. 3. Okay so this intrigues me now that we have the Guardians and pretty much the entire universe in play in the MCU, but what “greater worlds,” exactly, was the Tesseract supposed to unveil? True the Tesseract is the space stone and verifiably can open portals to everywhere and anywhere in the universe, but Loki specifically makes the claim that the Tesseract can open up access to “greater worlds,” and I’m honestly still not entirely sure what precise reference this was supposed to be making. Because Thanos barely might have arguably needed the Tesseract to get to the planet the Soul Stone was on, but even so that’s a connection that still somehow feels like a stretch. So my question is, what if they meaning the Black Order or Thanos or possibly even Loki needed the Tesseract to get at something else? Somewhere else? Then again, this particular slip might just be Whedon’s doing and not necessarily be reflective of the culmination of the MCU up to this point so IDK. 4. I’m not going to lie, I’ve found it fascinating from day one that The Avengers very openly plays with godhood, to the point that I’m genuinely not sure if they’re reifying it in the MCU or tinkering with it. I mean obviously in the later movies this theme is less stressed because the tinkering patently takes precedence, but it’s still cool to me that there are both scripted and visual imagery that tie in multicultural interpretations of godhood. Fury mentions the burial rites of the Pharaohs within the first ten minutes of the film, Loki commits a human sacrifice on a Babylonian bull altar straight from Gilgamesh era in Stuttgart, Cap makes a comment about how his singular god does and does not dress after Natasha herself labels Thor and Loki as gods, and Fury unashamedly labels Thor as a god when they release the Tesseract to his custody. And while a bit ham-fisted, the correlation between theism and the bleeding-edge demand to acknowledge the reality of the universe is still pretty neat guys. 5. The old man in Stuttgart because no FUCK. If any of y’all think that my Germanist ass won’t get misty-eyed and choked-up during this scene, you’re wrong. 6. Okay so I’ll premise this by saying that I haven’t cross-checked the official script because frankly... yeah frankly I don’t want to be wrong and I really can’t hear anything but what I believe to be my interpretation of the line even though I know what the other fan alternatives have been. But when Thor and Loki are arguing on the mountaintop, when Loki says that he, “Was and should be ---,” my hearing of it instead of having been “Was and should be king,” is “Was and should be killed.” And while I’ll bow to whatever official record claims otherwise, I like my hearing better so there. (Also... there’s zero hint of Hiddleston’s palate producing a “g” sound in that sentence but I’ll put my inner linguist away and leave it at that.) 7. In light of that scene, though, when Loki and Thor are arguing is one of the first moments when Loki actually sounds like himself after the Stuttgart scene? Prior to that point the only times we see Loki is when he’s marshaling his human troops and getting policed by those lording over him. In all of those initial scenes Loki feels... very un-Loki to me. Not because Loki isn’t a bastard (hint: he is), but because his motivations and justifications are vague and not seemingly personally motivated, which is what Loki is to a fault. Post-Stuttgart, however, and the personal element seems to return for him because of some reason or another. (IE I have theories but you can read your own into it.) 8. Let it never be said that Thor is a dull bulb. Yeah it’s still sort of unclear how Thor got to Earth (though nothing is unclear about why Thor is pissed), but Thor does walk in with more than enough information to be frankly a little surprising. Bless Heimdall and all that, but seriously the fact that Thor knows about the Chitauri but doesn’t know other things casts an interesting focus on what he was told by Odin and Heimdall before going. Most importantly, though, even from conversing with Loki for a few minutes, Thor is attentive enough to pick up on some of what Loki isn’t saying. Such as, just who showed Loki how to use the Tesseract and all the things Loki claims to be motivated by. Equally interestingly, Loki specifically refuses to answer that question. 9. I feel bad for Fury for sleeping in a den of vipers for so long - though I do like the build-up from the first Avengers into the following issues with HYDRA corruption - but in ways more important to the immediate issue in the first Avengers, Fury might be a shady bitch but he is not an idiot. Because while everyone else was having pissing contests and not trusting one another, Fury was not trusting the person that deserved to be trusted the least, which isn’t just good leadership, but is good spycraft. 10. As established later in the MCU, it’s exceedingly clever that even in the first Avengers there are scenes when even without a “wielder” present, the Mind Stone - as-yet unidentified as such in the MCU - can be seen manipulating those in its vicinity such as in the lab where the biggest catfight in the history of the MCU breaks out. I mean. Until CA:CW... 11. Steve Rogers, poor cinnamon roll, unexpectedly served at dinner instead of breakfast, who cracks jokes about technology he really isn’t that bad at as “seeming to run on some kind of electricity.” Bless. Though really that internal console, while doing complicated shit, is definitely not any more or less visually complicated than the interior of a radio relay which Steve definitely dealt with in his day but kudos for the humor bb, A+. 12. Still one of the strongest and most harrowing lines ever said in the MCU in my opinion: “We are NOT soldiers.” Know why? Because they aren’t. Hell, the only ones among them that are soldiers - and some by slim and emergency-driven margins - are Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, and Sam. The rest of them are brilliant, gifted, and tortured civilians trying to do the right thing. And to Tony Stark above all else, that means something. That means that they didn’t get training to deal with this shit. They didn’t choose for this to be their lives, necessarily. And above all, they don’t deserve to die. And even though Tony knows Coulson is a SHIELD agent, Tony still considers him a person before a disposable “soldier.” 13. Mother-fucking Marvel give me an entire series devoted to my Hawk Guy I need him. You have so much to work with and yet you’re so good at squandering him. I hate it. 14. In light of how bad NYC got fucked up, it’s honestly no wonder Jessica Jones has a drinking problem because I would too even without the personal loss, experimentation, and emotional maladjustment. 15. IN WHAT FUCKING POST-9/11 WORLD DO BUSINESS BUILDINGS NOT HAVE VERY STRICT EVACUATION PLANS. SERIOUSLY. I am a little mad that there are morons ogling out of office building windows when frankly that shit wouldn’t fly. Even on fucking 9/11 that shit didn’t fly and if you think NYC is less paranoid because 9/11 was a decade prior to this movie coming out, you’re wrong. Everyone remembers, and city evacuation ordinances will sure as hell never forget either. Come on Marvel. 16. As a point of interest my grandmother - who also went to see The Avengers with me when it was in theaters but not at the midnight showing like my mom - was 84 at the time and still sat through the whole thing with a bucket full of popcorn to herself, and her favorite moment to this day is when the Hulk tosses Loki around like a rag doll. She’s 90 now, and the Hulk is still her favorite character. 17. Mother-Fuckin Nick Fury will cock-block your nuclear strike with a bazooka because he thinks you’re that dumb. Do not test Nick Fury’s willingness to be Extra (TM) . You will lose. 18. Real talk, though, I’m really curious about whether the Chitauri actually are a hive mind race or, is it their technology that runs of a hive mind link? Because the armor at least on the giant toothy space whale monstrosities does not look organic - it looks implanted. The Chitauri foot soldiers also seem to have a unique biologically based interface with their weapons, armor, and technology in general, which begs the question of whether their biometric matrix is just somehow more inclined toward shared-existence technologies, or whether they self-engineered themselves into a corner by relying on said technologies too much. Seriously guys I have questions and why won’t Marvel give me answers. 19. As a final send-off, this is the first time Tony has ever driven an Acura in the MCU and I refuse to believe it’s not because of the Avengers “A” aesthetic. Tony is canonically an Audi man. Fight me on this.

Okay I’m seriously done for now it’s 1 AM and I need to sleep I have 4 more movies to get through tomorrow. I’ll be up and around and at my shit again in the morn.∞

#''the doctor is out #''marvel meta field notes #''MMFN

[totallyrealhoroscopesdaily]

1/8/2018 Horocope

Aries: You turn your phone on. Predictably, you have about a million missed calls and unread texts from Death. However, the contents of those texts are much less expected. You were going to dismiss the notifications without reading them, but when you glanced at the latest one you had to stop for a minute. You start reading the texts. Aria Hanson, 81, had 3 grandchildren who liked to bring her things they found out in the woods, died in her sleep. Tim Jacobs, 5, wanted to drive a train when he grew up, loved his mom and his dad, liked to fly kites in the park with his uncle, hit by a car. Patrick Wilson, 23, rising sorcerer, people expected him to completely revolutionize the field, he had been trying to keep custody of his little sister out of his mother’s abusive hands, he memorized every constellation in the sky out of fascination, a misfired spell stopped his heart. It goes on and on for pages. Kendrick Theoson, 49, was a notoriously shrewd business man, magazines called him corrupt, but he was barely keeping the company afloat, he’d have shut the company down, but he didn’t want to leave his workers out in the cold because they still had families to support, hated peas, died of a heart attack. Diana Locktil, 35, tried to get her degree in engineering, but quit after intensive harassment for being a woman, adored the colors the sky would turn at sunrise, loved and married a man who said he’d always treasure her, strangled to death by her husband. People’s names and ages and other little details of their lives, all followed by method of death. You have to stop reading after a while. You don’t know what to do with this. You water the daisies.

Taurus: All the underwear has decided to parade itself through the streets, whether someone is wearing it or not. You had nothing to do with this. You march in front of the parade, keeping time. 

Gemini: The petals have expanded to every corner of your being, pressing into and becoming part of your flesh, layering into strands of muscle, nearly eradicating the void within you. It hurts, it hurts, feeling hurts, you are having a break down, you can’t breathe, emotions strangling your lungs. You’re barely aware of hands on your back, in your hair, of your face pressed to someone’s chest, as you struggle against sobs and gasps to get air into your lungs.

Cancer: You work on some touch-ups, just some little things to get a head start on your next deadline. You’re much less frantic about this, you text Ridali to set a date to hang out. “you want to hang out?”, he asks. You say yes, and then there’s a suspiciously long pause. You’re about to say something else, but then he bounces back with overt enthusiasm, asking if you’d like to go do something right now or when or?! You tell him you’re free tomorrow, and he is ecstatic.

Leo: Fira texted you an apology, she’s sick as a dog and couldn’t come yesterday. You, in return, grab the foots bag and a container of soup that Hazel made and head to Fira’s place. She looks like shit when she opens the door and immediately asks how in the hell did you get this address, to which you reply when did she get your phone. She says touche. You give her the soup and she thanks you, and goes to get a spoon. You make her lay down because for fucks sake, how is she going to get better if she’s prancing around, and then tell her she’s not eating the soup cold because that would be an insult to Hazel’s culinary skills. You heat up the soup for her.

Virgo: Baxter is on your desk at work. You don’t see Trixie anywhere. You pick him up, but he won’t drop one of your erasers. You let him have it. You put him on your shoulder and go search for her. He happily plays with your hair for the duration of your walk and you don’t try to stop him. He beeps sadly at you when you hand him off to Trixie, who thanks you for bringing him back, she was going nuts looking for him, and reaches out for you with his tiny arms as she walks away. You turn your back to him and walk to your desk, heart breaking a little bit. You tell yourself it’s for the best.

Libra: You put on offering on the little shrine in the back of the shop. You had to move it to keep the kids from messing with it, but it’s still there. You think it might be a bit out of her jurisdiction, but you’re hoping that Caireen still helps, somehow. You also write to the unidentifiable being, both because you haven’t spoken to it in a while and shit has happened, and because you have absolutely no clue what to do. Kaimana did drop off Manaki today, but she has no advice. 

Scorpio: You’re being released out of the hospital tomorrow. Haha, yeah... 

Sagittarius: It is in your eyes and up your nose and it burns, you open your mouth in a reflexive gasp for air and inhale it. It burns your throat and your lungs and it tastes like hatred and dishwater and rot and syrup and you can breathe. You can breathe it, why can you breathe it, you want to stop breathing it, it hurts to breathe. You feel it start crawling, oh gods, why is it crawling, tiny claws ripping your lungs open and tearing up your throat and it feels like spiders climbing into your eyes and nose, and you feel something scaly and cold brush your leg and arm, what was that, you can’t see, make it STOP. And it stops. You’re dropped into the middle of a sitting room and you immediately turn to puke onto the rug. You cough and hack until all of it is out of you and wow that felt just as bad coming up as it did going in. You flop onto your back next to the puddle you’ve made, breathing shaky, staring at the stretch of liquid hovering above you that somehow makes up the ceiling. You want a long, hot shower and a corner to curl up in for about a bazillion years, in that order. “Feeling better, dearie?”, the old woman says from her spot on sofa. Why can’t the universe give you a break?

Capricorn: You... have an idea. You’re very nervous to bring it up to Aiden. You’re going to be absolutely sure this would work before you show it to him, mainly as a way to put it off, because gods what if he doesn’t want it?

Aquarius: You forgot to do your laundry yesterday. You really are having issues keeping on top of that, especially since you don’t wear out your clothes in a singular week anymore. You go do it today. The nice attendant isn’t there. You’re somewhat disappointed. 

Pisces: You didn’t sleep last night. You woke up once and were scared to go back to sleep. Nightmares are a symptom of withdrawal, wouldn’t it be easier to just take it? You very carefully don’t take the sleep aid the dream poison. 

#zodiac #horoscope #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #totallyrealhoroscopesdaily

[thegoldendemon-blog]

// 0001 // GRIM.

     q: Kayla are you actually going all in on PROJECT and titling your introductory drabble after a Dan Terminus song       a: I finished Neuromancer today so unfollow me now this is all I’m going to post ab--

     Long after the soul within had ceased to be, the eye remained open, transient— and blinking.

     There’s defect in the ocular lens. Instead of white, the scelera is drab, dark brown, with the pupil oblong instead of round. It might’ve passed as a cheap implant in the red district off of somebody who lost one in a brawl: worse to look without than improperly with. But then comes the schism of electrical spasms as the whole body rises up and down to an ineffective cadence, shedding sparks like fur. The expression never changes off of gaping.

     A hand reaches down and wraps around synthlon flesh, beginning to pull it back.

    Wheeze. The spasms continue, creating a thimp-thump-thimp on the floorboards. Outside, past the window and the open balcony, is an endless day of neon suns and halogen captured in a bowl of acid rain and dark clouds.

    “Don’t,” the defect chitters.

    The skin peels farther.

    “Don’t,” it says. Thimp-thump-thimp. The spasms were catching up to it now. It could barely hold on to its voice, tone battered and sounding as if minced by a malfunctioning shredder.

    The hand stops once the skin reveals not organs or blood, but lattices of hollowpoint steel. Slow, deliberate—     —It removes a card, and the defect screams before its eye closes forever.

    “Hmm.” Jhin balances on his toes, examining the card between his fingers before inserting it in a fold between his coat and neck. “’Don’t’ is an unrecognized command. My interpreter suggests S-T-O-P,”

    He thocks the thick end of his gun into the head and watches as the metal, now ultrahot, flashes red then explodes.

    “But S-T-O-P is an unauthorized command to give.”

    Shrugging off bits of defect plastic, he saunters past and winds up on the balcony. The purview of the city is blotted out considerably by buildings tall as skyscrapers and the narrow passageways they carve out between sky-tunnels and airborne vehicles. In another body, he would’ve thought it claustrophobic, but claustrophobic is a memory, a fact, no longer a feeling, and for his chassis this environment is far from. The hum of inner city is surpassed only by an internal ding of the success of his cryptographic bypass.

    || TYPE: Personal Storage     || COMPANY: Non-PROJECT Affiliated, BL-RO Best Guess     || LAST RECORD: MKV Audio Log     || TRANSCRIBE?     || Yes.

    || TRANSCRIPTION COMPLETE. PLAYING…     || “I want that fucking thing dead.” Short voice.

    || Tall voice. “You can’t just kill it, you know. It doesn’t belong to an individual chassis. We’ve known this for months. Why do you think PROJECT itself is struggling to kill it?”

    || “Then what the hell is it? No virus is that sophisticated. No virus is going to have that kind of AI. It’s anathema to the concept. A virus isn’t supposed to think. It’s supposed to be just is. Just is to drop off its payload and de-interface. In and out. That thing, it thinks. It isn’t reacting to any known law of artificial intelligence. What does it have, a bloody neural network on its back?”

    || Lull. Murmuring in the back, unidentifiable. The recorder sits somewhere and the digitizer hums with a low, soft sigh.

    || Short voice starts again. “I’m going to have Stanwick over for dinner tonight,” it says. “If he can’t tell me what that thing actually is, it might as well be PROJECT’s attempt to self-destruct.”

    || TRANSCRIPTION CLOSED.     || DATA QUERY: “Stanwick”     || QUERYING…     || BEST GUESS: Nebukazar Stanwick, PhD in Informative Robotics, currently teaching at New Valoran University. Suspected black-coat ties to BL-RO after being denied a position of chairman for forgery and blueprint theft. STATUS: Not a replicant or augmented.    || CONTACT?    || Yes.

    “Ah.” Jhin’s mask splits open from front to back and out assembles a beaming, smiling face.

    “I wonder if Stanwick will enjoy breakfast for two.”

#me: I'm not having fun with League anymore #Riot: PROJECT Jhin #me: understandable have a nice day #ANOTHER PIECE TO THE LEGEND — DRABBLES #SERIES: PROJECT #PROJECT VERSE.

[mittensmorgul]

I've got Pac Man Fever on in the background for the meta rewatch, and one of the first things we learn is that the bunker isn't trackable to within a 20 mile radius. And all I can think is that like Dean with the Colt, trusting too much in it because it's apparently invincible.

Sam and Dean continued trusting in the security of the bunker because it was so incredible this way. We know the Colt still had five things it couldn't kill (and not WHAT those things are), yet Dean trusted it to kill an at-the-time unidentified god in 12.18. And nearly got himself killed by a plain-old human, because there's still the factor of reliably being able to point it at the thing and shoot it.

Even after 12.17 and how they missed Dagon with it...

It's just a tool, but they'd put ALL their faith in it...

Overconfidence is... a form of hubris.

And all season I’ve been yelling about how hubris is bad.

It seems like they’d put way too much trust in the security and sanctity of the bunker. You’d think they’d have learned after pretty much EVERYONE invaded the place at one point or another in the last few years...

Yet they STILL trusted in the building they’d come to think of as “home.” Even after finding the MoL’s listening devices. They brought Toni back there, even after hearing her prattle on about how the MoL was responsible for all the hunter deaths, even knowing that they killed Mick for being “too sympathetic” to the Winchesters’ views, and even after Mary’s warning phone call that they had a problem followed by their complete inability to find or contact her since that warning. Even knowing that the bastards HAD KEYS TO THE BUNKER.

That’s hubris, and hubris is bad.

Despite the pileup of subtext pointing to Dean’s instinctive mistrust of these people, the fact that he’s been so on-the-nose RIGHT about so much this season, he certainly has a couple of blind spots big enough to drive the Impala through.

He never even questioned how the MoL came by the Colt? Possibly because he was simply too relieved or pleased to have it back at all.

That’s hubris, and hubris is bad.

They trusted in Mary, who they don’t even really know. And who definitely doesn’t really know them. She thinks she knows them via John’s journal, and since the beginning of the season we’ve seen Dean resisting telling her the worst of the truth about their lives. He hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her. He hadn’t wanted her to feel like he was blaming her for what happened after she died. It’s not like she knew all of that stuff would happen-- that John would be consumed by revenge for her death, that their entire lives would become devoted to the one thing she never wanted for them because of her death. It seemed unfair to Dean at the beginning of the season to burden her with that knowledge when she was still adjusting to suddenly being alive again at all...

12.18 invited us to ponder what Sam and Dean’s legacy would be. In an episode where a horrifying family legacy of murder and greed had been buried and ignored for 20 years resurfaced and doubled down on the horror and greed. The sheriff had tried to bury and ignore the root of his family’s evil deeds while fixing up all the “surface level” wrongs his family had inflicted on the town they essentially owned. He sold it off to the people who lived and worked there. He even gave his half-brother the company that had been the backbone of the town, and he himself took on the mantle of justice for the people by becoming the sheriff.

Yet even when faced with the evidence that his family’s long-buried legacy might be coming back to haunt him, he passively ignored the threat. Yes, he eventually experienced doubt and went to check to make sure Moloch was still safely locked away, but while he’d been busy trying to ignore the monster’s existence, the other surviving member of his family had uncovered the secret for himself. His brother was lured in by Moloch’s promises, and a desperate, selfish drive to have the life he felt he deserved but had always been denied.

In his fervor, he not only capitulated to the monster’s desire for blood, HE FREED IT from the prison where it had been contained for more than a hundred years. Suddenly it wasn’t one death a year to appease the god, it was a string of deaths. Like the god had extra leverage over him because he hadn’t seen the bigger picture.

This is Mary, who was so desperate to make the life she’d intended to for her family, the life she felt she’d been denied by circumstance. But she didn’t have all the facts-- either about her own family’s history OR the Men of Letters. Yet she signed up to work with them anyway. Despite her doubts, despite the fact she instinctively, on some level, knew it was wrong enough that she hid her mission from Sam and Dean in 12.12, and then STILL didn’t tell them the truth when she discovered how shady the whole operation was.

Mary’s hubris has led to the loss of her free will, now subsumed by the Men of Letters’ agenda. She realized too late that she’d put her faith in the wrong place. She’d pinned her personal hopes and desires to an evil force because on the surface they seemed to share her end goals, and was willing to turn a blind eye to their blatantly obvious faults. To the hubris of the underlying agenda itself.

This is also Crowley, whose motives for diverting Lucifer from the cage in the first place seem like pure hubris anyway, A hubris compounded by his willingness to deal with the Men of Letters and his repeated tormenting of Lucifer. And Crowley’s hubris has led to him seeking refuge from the fate he’d made for himself by literally becoming a rat and being tossed out with the trash. Not fucking subtle, bucklemming.

So Sam and Dean have ended up trapped within their own “legacy,” the bunker that they’d gradually made their own without knowing the full extent of the baggage that came along with it, that some portion of the Men of Letters survived Abaddon’s slaughter in 1958 to become even more secretive and radicalized in their isolation. Sam instinctively wanted to trust them, because nothing he’d found in the bunker had made him believe that the Men of Letters might have evil intentions. He desperately wanted to believe the best of these people despite the evidence of his own experiences at their hands. He didn’t trust HIMSELF over their self-proclaimed superior knowledge and goals. Now that’s all come back around to bite everyone in the ass.

Dean’s been ignoring or suppressing his own instincts all season, despite being confronted with confirmation that his instincts were right all along. But his lack of faith in himself has a lot of baggage attached to it and THAT is what I believe he’s been working through. In the past he’s tried to enforce his will over that of others (see: his instincts about Ruby and how he pushed Sam away by trying to enforce his will, his instincts about Cas in s6, his own poor choices in s8 and s9 that culminated in him practically destroying the universe because he tried to enforce his own will by thinking it was a good idea to slam the gates of Hell... which led to the COSMIC CONSEQUENCES (i.e. cavalcade of dominoes falling that ended up releasing the Darkness and nearly ending the universe), and then having God himself rest the burden of looking after the Earth in Dean’s hands in 11.23. But he blames himself for ALL of it.

I’m watching 8.22 right now (hello, Dabb), watching Sarah Blake die because of his choices.

I can’t honestly say this loud enough. EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED ON THE SHOW SINCE 12.09 IS THE COSMIC CONSEQUENCES. Really, everything that’s happened since Mary was resurrected at the end of 11.23 has been a cascade of increasingly dire consequences. Billie had tried to set the natural order to rights SEVERAL TIMES over the early part of the season, asking Mary to choose to go back to Heaven where she belonged, but it had still been her choice at that point, and she rejected the offer.

In 12.09, Mary was ready to accept her own death in the fulfillment of Dean’s deal with Billie, but Cas spared her from paying the price. Honestly, he didn’t do it for MARY, but for DEAN. What would it have done to Dean at that point to have Mary pay the price for his own failure? Because that’s how it would’ve felt to him. It would’ve broken him. Instead, Mary’s been given a free pass to continue existing, and to continue screwing with the Natural Order.

COSMIC CONSEQUENCES.

Dean still hasn’t found the balance in himself that he’d helped bring about in the universe. The balance between trusting in his own will versus forcing that will on anyone else. Trying to bend others to his will has a long, long history of failure attached to it. And yet standing all the way back like Chuck and just passively observing these consequences unfolding despite that itching instinct to intervene hasn’t actually resulted in anything good either.

COSMIC CONSEQUENCES.

Cas felt like he’d failed Sam and Dean in 12.09 by not being able to find and save them from prison. He doubted himself so much that he wasn’t even able to carry out a normal hunt on his own when we know he’d become a shockingly effective hunter in his own right over the last few years. Self-doubt, lack of self-worth, all over the loss of Sam and Dean... led directly to the events of 12.12 where he nearly paid the price with his own life (except for the interference of Crowley, he would have).

(Heck, I’m watching 8.23 right now. This isn’t a new theme for Cas...)

He’s still trying to atone from his decision to say yes to Lucifer in 11.10. That’s the genesis of an awful lot of the cosmic consequences we’re dealing with now, after all. His failure to protect Sam and Dean in 12.08, however, is a driving force behind his current spate of terrible choices in a misguided attempt to protect them from paying those cosmic consequences on his behalf.

The tricky thing about cosmic consequences is that you simply can’t walk past them and ignore the inciting incident that kicked them all off in the first place. Like the Barrett family’s buried secret-- the literal god buried under their basement floor, the foundations of their entire lives, or even Dean refusing to kill that little girl in 6.11, our original introduction to Cosmic Consequences-- you can push them down and try to ignore them and hope they’ll go away. You can run around trying to clean up the resulting chain reaction of terrible consequences as they erupt into flames all around you, but until the original imbalance is corrected and the truth is unearthed and dealt with directly, that’s all they’ve been able to do.

Cas’s self-doubt, like Dean said in 12.19, has blinded him to the danger he was in. He’d said yes to Lucifer in 11.10, voluntarily handing his free will over to Lucifer, and he’s never really had a chance to reclaim that agency. It seems that everything he’s tried to do since then has been a rather futile effort to reclaim that agency.

I’ve said it so many times this season, but Cas “wished” for faith, and he was slammed with it. And the wishes turn bad. The wishes turn very bad. I think one of the main reasons it was so easy for the nephilim to inflict its will on Cas was that he’d surrendered that will in 11.10 and never fully reclaimed it. He hasn’t asserted it for himself again, instead acting on his own, scrambling around blindly trying to put everything else right while the original act of surrender remains unrevoked.

COSMIC. CONSEQUENCES.

That’s all any of this is, really. That’s the whole story right there.

It’s not about who has to pay the price, it’s about going back and reversing the entire original story. It’s about getting a second chance to put right those original wrongs. It’s about realizing that we can’t just have what we want, because that’s not how life works. Back in 4.08 Sam and Dean were in a very different place to where they are now. Even back in 6.11 when Dean began learning this lesson on a cosmic scale. It’s not just about cleaning up their messes, it’s about finding balance between the natural order and free will. And remembering that no one person’s will should decide the fate of the entire universe at the expense of the natural order.

#spn s12 spoilers #spn 12.21 #hubris is bad #COSMIC. CONSEQUENCES. #seriously though why doesn't everyone just trust dean's gut instincts it's like he's got an uncanny magical gift here... #that's what free will is #revenge of the subtext #bucklemming canon acrobatics #spn 6.11 #spn 4.08

[jd-rush]

Chuck help me--I committed fanfic: Tony Stark meets the Guardians of the Galaxy.

TITLE: Units From Heaven* AUTHOR:  J.D. Rush FANDOM:  MARVEL, MCU--Iron Man and Guardians of the Galaxy PAIRING:  Tony Stark/Peter Quill kinda RATING:  R for excessive f-bombs and sexual innuendo  (I mean, it IS Tony Stark after all) SPOILERS:  a couple of minor ones for “Guardians of the Galaxy 2”, nothing too damaging SUMMARY:  The Guardians arrive on Earth with a dire warning.  Perhaps someone should have warned them about Anthony Edward Stark.  Takes place approximately three years after “Captain America:  Civil War”, and the Avengers are still estranged.  (I guess that's the nicest word for it.) DISCLAIMER:  Characters belong to MARVEL and Disney and anyone else who could sue me.  I also stole borrowed a couple of lines from “The Avengers”.  I’ll return them when I’m done with them. AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Humour, it's what I do.  This turned out more cracky than I expected, and while I poke fun at Tony, it's done with deep love.  Also, I don't know how long it takes Groot’s species to age or how the aging process works in space; for the sake of argument, let's say he's now the equivalent of early 20's, ‘kay? SECOND AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Many thanks to my lovely friend, Michele, for giving me the encouragement to write this, even though it meant putting up with my current Iron Man obsession and my crippling writer's block.  The XF joke is just for you, sweetie.

Italics mean inner thoughts

“Boss, an unidentified flying object has landed in the south corner of the Compound.”

“Unidentified?  As in. . .”

“As in a space ship, Boss.  It just appeared and. . .”

Tony Stark didn’t wait to hear the rest of what FRIDAY had to say.  With a flick of his wrist, his armor formed around him; in the blink of an eye, he was suited up and flying out to meet his ultimate nightmare.  He had been preparing for this moment for years, and he was ready.  Whatever came out of that ship was going to regret even thinking about coming to Earth, let alone being stupid enough to actually do it.

Tony landed about ten feet from the brightly coloured alien craft, the mid-day sun reflecting off its vivid blue and orange hull.  He barely had a moment to be thankful that he had stuck to classic hot-rod red and gold for his suit when he noticed a side door begin to lower and a shadow crossed the opened hatch.  Bracing his hands in front of him, Tony powered up his repulsors.  

Okay, Stark, here we go.  Showtime.  Shoot first, ask questions later.  Bring it on, you space motherfuckers.  You are going DOWN!

The invader appeared.  It was a large grey bald male humanoid; shirtless, his bare torso was covered in intricate scarlet scars.  He wandered slowly out of the ship, his red-rimmed ice blue eyes looking around in wonder, a big smile on his pudgy face.

“What the fuck?” Tony muttered under his breath.

The first visitor was followed by another male humanoid who was wearing some kind of metal mask with red-disk eye lenses which rendered his face completely unreadable and reminded Tony a bit too much of that putz, Ant-Man.  He was decked out in a long brown leather duster, two high-tech guns strapped to his waist like a genuine space cowboy.

“No, what the actual fuck?” Tony asked again.

At that point, two shapely female aliens made their way down the ship's ramp--one was a stunning brunette with green skin, the other was pretty with pale skin, big dark eyes and two tiny stalks protruding from her head.  Tony gave them the once-over and nodded.

“Okay, hot chicks.  Good.  I can work with that, even the antenna.  But I still gotta ask. . . What.  The.  Fuck?”

He didn't get an answer.  Instead he got a fifth alien, and this one was definitely not humanoid.  In fact, it looked like a raccoon, walking on its hind legs, and wearing a uniform that contained more weaponry than Black Widow on a normal Thursday morning.  Tony tried to remember if he had gotten drunk last night so he could explain all this away as nothing more than a severe hangover.

“What in the name of fuckitude is going on here?” Tony groused.  “I seriously don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit, and I get paid a fuck-ton, thank you very much.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when a tall tree-like creature lumbered out of the ship and walked over to stand with the others.  With a disbelieving headshake, Tony threw up his hands in defeat.  “You know what?  I’m out of fucks.  Seriously, there are not enough fucks in my data bank for this.  I surrender.  Take me to your leader.  What the fuck ever.”

“I am Groot,” the tree-creature rumbled, its arms--or rather limbs--stretched out wide in greeting.

“Yeah, right, you come in peace,” Tony snorted with a sarcastic laugh.  “I’ve seen that movie, pal.  Not buying what you're selling.”

“I am Groot,” the creature repeated, the tone of the words slightly different from the first time.

Hearing that, Tony lowered his hands.  Retracting his helmet, he glanced over his left shoulder towards the cluster of trees at the edge of the field.  “Yeah, I suppose she’s sexy.  For a tree.  I don’t know.  Elms never did it for me.  Give me a Northern Red Oak anytime.  Nothing like a redhead, right?”

“I am Groot?” the creature asked, curiously.

“Nah, none around here," Tony answered.  "Sorry, bud.  Get it?  I called you ‘bud’, because you're a tree and you sprout buds.  Or maybe you don't, seeing as you're an alien tree.  Maybe you sprout, I don't know, starfish or cupcakes or something weird like that.  Although a cupcake sprouting tree would be pretty fucking fantastic, now that I think about it.”

“I am Groot!”  Now the creature sounded miffed.

“Hey, not my fault for once,” Tony fired back.  “I wanted to plant some, but Bruce wouldn't have it.  He’s a big Earth Day kind of guy.  ‘You can’t bring in non-native plants, Tony.’  ‘They mess with the ecosystem, Tony.’  ‘I told you to buy organic, water-based lube, Tony.’  Do you know how hard it is to find that in Key Lime Pie flavour?  I mean, don’t get me wrong.  He’s a total honeybun.  Well, when he’s not turning into a big green rage monster.”  He gestured over at the green female alien.  “I can hook you up with him.  You two would make a good looking couple.”

“Wait a minute!” Cos-play Ant-Man cut in, obviously flustered.  Pointing at the tree creature, he asked, “You understand him?”   “Well, yeah,” Tony replied, “he’s a great conversationalist.  Much more eloquent than our current (sarcastic air quotes) ‘president’, I can tell you that for free.”

“I am Groot.”

Tony let out a loud belly laugh.  “You got that right!  I‘ve done business with that douche canoe.  *I* sure as hell didn't vote for him.”

The cowboy stepped forward and demanded, “HOW can you understand him?  I've been traveling with him for YEARS and I still don't get it!”

With a shrug of his armor-covered shoulders, Tony remarked, “Compared to Dum-E, he’s practically Oscar Wilde.”

Retracting his own helmet, Definitely Not Ant-Man said, “I have no idea who that is.  And what is a Dum-E?”

Tony was momentarily knocked breathless by the handsome green-eyed, artfully-bearded face that the helmet revealed.  “Whoa!  Wow!  Was not expecting that!  FRIDAY, take a note--the chicks aren’t the only hot aliens on that ship.”

“If you call me a chick once more, I'll pull your spleen out through your nose and make you eat it," the green chick, ahhh, female humanoid snarled.

“No offense intended," Tony quickly apologized.  “Seriously, I meant it strictly as a compliment.  You’re total babes.  Plus, I sort of don’t know your names.”

The green alien chick, ahhh, babe, ahhh, lady tilted her head and narrowed her eyes menacingly, causing Tony to take a step back in case his spleen was still in danger. (He wasn’t entirely sure what a spleen was but he certainly didn't want to eat one, especially his own).  After a moment, she conceded, “Okay, I'll let it slide.  For now.”

“She's getting soft,” the furry raccoon-like being chuckled.

She turned her glare on the critter, for which Tony was thankful.  “I’ll show you soft,” she hissed.

“I’ve seen her soft and it’s not half bad,” Hunky Not-Ant Man smirked, and Tony fell just a little bit in love with him.

Green girl took a deep breath, released it slowly, and started again. “I’m Gamora.  And this,” motioning to the bug alien, “is Mantis.”

Mantis smiled, making her already pretty face glow.  “Hello, you have a beautiful world,” she said, her voice soft and soothing.  “I look forward to seeing more.”

“So do I,” Tony replied, suavely, throwing in a wink for good measure.

“Don’t tell me--you flirt with everyone, don‘t you?” Gamora asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Tony admitted with a smug grin

Shaking her head in dismay, Gamora muttered, “Great.  Another one.  What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“You were an intergalactic assassin who killed many people and destroyed untold lives,” the big bald alien stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes, right I did do that,” Gamora admitted between gritted teeth.  “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You are welcome,” the big bald alien said, totally without sarcasm or irony. “However, I do not understand how you could forget something like that.”

Gamora clenched her fists tightly and took another deep breath.  The calming techniques Mantis had taught her usually worked when she was ready to kill her crewmates, though not always as the hole she had recently punched in the galley’s door would testify.  Pointing to the big bald paisley-printed alien she continued, “That’s Drax and the ‘other hot alien’ as you so obnoxiously put it, is our captain, Peter Quill.”

“I am Groot,” the tree announced proudly.

"You've already met Groot," Gamora commented dryly, “and last but not least. . .”

“I'm Rocket,” the furry animal creature cut in.  Looking up at Gamora, he snarked, “Sorry, sweets, but I was growing old waiting for you to get to me.  We’re The Guardians of the Galaxy. It’s what we call ourselves.  Sort of like a team.  ‘The Universe’s Mightiest Heroes’ type thing.”

“That’s my line,” Tony grumbled under his breath.

“Actually, they call me Star-Lord,” Quill corrected as he stepped forward, hand extended, pointedly ignoring Gamora’s eye roll.

“And you can call me anytime,” Tony crooned in his best seductive voice, which was pretty damn good.  His right gauntlet folded back upon itself effortlessly and he grasped Quill’s warm hand, shaking it a bit longer than necessary.  Quill blushed slightly, which made Tony grin.  'I still got it', he thought cheerfully.

“We know who you are, Anthony Stark,” Gamora said, interrupting the magical moment.

“It's why we chose this spot to land,” Mantis added with a nod of her head which made her antennae bounce gently.  

Tony stop shaking Quill's hand (much to the man’s disappointment) and regarded the two females suspiciously.  “You know me?  How?  ‘Cause if it was those damn YouTube videos again, I swear I’m just gonna buy that fucking company and burn it to the ground.  I don't care what my lawyers say.”

“Ain’t you Iron Man, the guy that blew up the Chitauri army?” Rocket asked, waving at Tony's armor.  “I mean, ‘cause your outfit is kind of a dead give-away.  Great suit, by the way.  Nice and shiny.”

“Thanks, I polished it today.  You wouldn't believe the amount of Turtle Wax I go through in a week, and that's not including the extra-curricular activities.  And yeah, I nuked some alien space ships, but in my defense, they were sort of destroying Manhattan at the time, so they definitely deserved it.”

“Your name is known throughout the cosmos,” Mantis informed him, respect and awe in her voice.

“They sing songs of you and your legendary deeds!” Drax boomed, excitedly.

Tony pondered that for a moment before saying, “Well, I suppose that weekend party at Hef's in ‘05 would qualify me as a ’legend’ but that doesn’t explain how YOU know who I am.”

“I am Groot.”

At that, Tony eyed the group skeptically, then shook his head.  “Bullshit.  You're pulling my leg.”

“That is impossible,” Drax declared emphatically.  “We are standing too far away to even touch you let alone pull your leg.”  Off to the side, Quill did a dramatic face-palm.

Tony continued to study the individuals in front of him, searching for any sign that they were joking but it was obvious they were serious.  He laughed uneasily.  “No, ah. . .see, I think you’re mistaken.  I’m not even a hero on this planet, let alone across the universe.  You can ask anyone.  I mean, Rogers probably has a entire notebook filled with my faults.  And I’m pretty sure S.H.I.E.L.D. had to start a second file cabinet.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Stark,” Quill said.  “You actions saved many worlds from invasion.  Billions of beings, trillions maybe, owe their lives to you.  You are indeed a hero, and it is an honour to finally meet you.”

For once in his life, Anthony Edward Stark was truly speechless.  He just stared at the six beings in front of him as he tried to process what they were saying.  He couldn't remember the last time he had been told he did something good, never mind getting any praise for it.  “I, ah. . .wow.  Okay. Thanks,” he finally stammered.  “That’s, um, good to know, I guess.  It still doesn’t quite explain why you’re here, though.  I mean, you could have just sent me a cookie bouquet or something.”

“We're here because of Thanos,” Gamora stated simply.  

“Say who?” Tony shot back.

“He’s Gamora's father,” Mantis answered.

“Adoptive father,” Gamora corrected. “Intergalactic terrorist, genocidal maniac, menace to all life forms. . .“

“Big time dickbag,“ Rocket added, disdainfully.  

“Yeah, that, too,” Gamora agreed.  “He wants to rule the universe and impose his will on every living creature in it.  And Terra is first on his list.”

Tony huffed.  “I‘m guessing we‘re ‘Terra‘?” At Gamora‘s nod, he whinged, “Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch.  What did we do to piss him off?”

“Besides blow up his army?” Rocket retorted.

“You ever hear of the Infinity Gauntlet?”  Quill asked.

“Opening band for Black Sabbath?” Tony guessed.

Gamora just grimaced.  “Why am I destined to be surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy?”

Quill quickly began talking fast before Gamora's sword made an appearance.  “Best as I can explain it, there’s this glove, and it holds these six stones. . .”

“Infinity Stones,” Rocket supplied.

“Right, Infinity Stones,” Quill continued. “They’re really old and super powerful and whoever has the glove and those stones can rule the universe.  Thanos already has four, so once he gets the final two. . .”

“The Mind Stone and the Time Stone,” Tony interrupted.

Mantis's already big eyes grew bigger in surprise.  “How do you know about those?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh, that's easy,” Tony said.  "I've got them."

"WHAT?!??!" the Guardians all exclaimed, well, all except Groot, who exclaimed, “I AM GROOT!”

“Not ME personally," Tony clarified.  “My friend, Stephen Strange, has one of them.  Well, I SAY friend.  Sorry.  Bad ‘Sherlock’ joke.  Had to do it.  Anyway, it’s encased in this pendant called the Eye of Amaretto or something like that.  Tacky ass thing, but major league hoodoo I can tell you that.  We got drunk once and he used it to turn me back into a virgin so he and Rhodey could. . .”

“And the other stone?” Gamora prompted, not wanting to know where that story was going.

“Yeah, the Mind Stone.”  Tony chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  “Well, it's currently embedded in the head of my accidental mystical android son.”

Gamora rubbed her eyes tiredly and groaned, “I really don't even want to know.”  Tony got the feeling that was her default reaction to most things.  “The point is, we have to get to them before he does or else. . .”

Quill mouthed ‘Ka-Boom’ while miming an explosion with his hands.

Tony mulled their words over before confirming, “So you're telling me that we’re going to be invaded by space aliens again.  Extra-terrestrial armies, space ships, powerful super-beings, advanced weapons, all that shit, right?”

“Exactly,” Quill replied.  “That’s why we journeyed across the galaxy.  To warn you and maybe help Terra prepare for. . .”

But he didn‘t get to finish what he was saying as Tony let out a sudden, excited shout, “That is fucking AWESOME!”

Everyone just stared at Tony in confused silence until Drax asked, cautiously, “It is?”

“Fucking A+ it is!”   Glancing upwards, Tony screamed to the sky, “You hear that, Rogers!  I was right, you sanctimonious twatwaffle!  You and Barton can both eat me!”

Rocket snorted.  "Twatwaffle.  I like that.  I'm stealing it."

"What else is new?" Gamora scoffed.

“Um. . .” Quill started, but Tony just talked right over him.  “For years I tried to tell them.  I kept saying, ‘The aliens are coming back‘.  ‘They’re gonna kick our asses‘.  ‘They’ll make New York look like a day at Disneyland’, but would they listen to me?  Oh no.  They were all like ‘You’re crazy, Tony.’  ‘You’re drunk, Tony‘.  ‘You’re being paranoid, Tony.’  ‘You’re talking out of your ass, Tony.’  Well, suck my hairy balls, you assclowns, because I fucking NAILED IT!”  He ended his victory speech with a couple of fist pumps and a happy ‘robot dance’, including some moon walking which looked rather graceful even in the armor, proving it probably wasn't the first time he had done it.

Quill gave a long, low whistle of approval.  “Sick moves, bro!”

“Like 'em?” Tony said with a saucy smirk.  “Had a private session with Beyonce once.  And then we did some actual dancing.”

Mantis leaned towards Gamora and asked uneasily, “Are we sure this is the man who will save the universe?”

Gamora stepped forward, determined to reason with this obviously eccentric (though desperately needed) man and get their mission back on track.  “Mr. Stark, if you would just. . .”

Tony held up his hand to silence her.  “No, no, sweetheart.  Wait a minute.  Let me enjoy this for a few seconds.  I’ve earned it.  And please, it’s Tony.”

“I like this guy,” Rocket announced, hands--or rather, paws--on his tiny hips.

“As I was saying, TONY,” Gamora continued, undaunted, “super villain on the way, imminent interplanetary war, millions of planets at stake, not much time.  Need a plan.  Is there some place we can talk?”

“Yeah, sure, you can all stay up at the Compound,” Tony replied, breezily.  “We’ve got plenty of room.  Most of the team is out on a mission right now.  I only stayed behind because I promised Parker I’d help him with his senior class science project.  Not that he really needs it—the kid’s a goddamn genius but he seems to like my input for some reason.  I think he does it for the hugs and the Double Stuf Oreos.  And Strange is mixing it up in the multi-verse somewhere.  He’s gonna be so stoked to meet you, Star-Lord.  All the awesome facial hair bros!”

Quill's smile was almost blinding.  “You called me Star-Lord!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tony commented.  “It’s much cooler than ‘Peter’, and cool’s the rule right?  Hey, I just thought of something--I've got TWO Peters now!  I really should make some kind of pervy sex pun about that.”

“Please don’t,” Gamora muttered.  “It’s really not necessary.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Tony grinned.  “Man, I can't wait until Rhodey gets a load of you guys.  He's gonna lose his shit!”

“Isn’t that what you want to do with sh--” Drax began but Gamora quickly cut him off before he could finish.  “And our ship?”

“Don’t worry about your ship--it’ll be totally safe.  Eject!”  With that, the Iron Man suit opened and Tony stepped out, dressed in the tight black jeans and even tighter black tank top he was wearing when FRIDAY had sounded the alarm.

“GUH!” Quill gasped as Tony Stark was fully revealed for the first time, noting that he DEFINITELY put that smoking hot Rajak girl to shame.

Tony preened a bit.  ’Oh yeah, definitely still got it’, he thought, but instead he patted the suit‘s shoulder and said, “52 here will watch over it for you.  He'll like that.  Will make him feel useful.  Sentry mode.”  At the command, the suit closed back up and raised its arms to chest level, repulsors at the ready.

“Fucking cool,” Rocket stated, clearly impressed.

Tony preened some more.  He liked it when people geeked out with him over his tech--even when those people were walking, talking raccoon-like things.  “I know, right?  You should see the awesome shit I’ve got in development.  I’ll give you a tour of my lab later.  You’ll love it.  Your whiskers may never stop twitching.”  

“That might not be a great idea,” Quill warned, recognizing the scheming twinkle in Rocket’s eye.  

“Nah, it’s a great idea.  I always have great ideas.”  Slinging an arm around Quill’s shoulders, Tony started leading him towards the Compound.   “For instance, there was this one time that me and Reed Richards--great guy, maybe you‘ll get to meet him if Disney ever gets the rights back from FOX--anyway, we had this idea to. . . oh wow, is that an actual Zune?  Cool.  Haven't seen one of those in years.  Retro-tech.  You'll get along great with Parker.  That’s my other Peter by the way.  Still haven’t thought of a good sex pun yet.  Seriously, you should see what that kid can do with a Nintendo Game boy, a roll of copper wire, and a box of Legos.  Here,” digging into the back pocket of his jeans, Tony slapped a cellphone into Quill’s hand. “Starkphone 8.0  Latest model.  Not even on the market yet."

“Why would I need a phone in outer space?” Quill asked, puzzled.

“It holds 50,000 songs, not including the entire AC/DC song library, which comes pre-loaded,” Tony explained.  “Cost me a fortune for the copyrights, but totally worth it.  Can you believe there are people out there that don't know the words to 'Highway to Hell'?  I mean, what's wrong with this world?  Maybe I should let Thermos have it after all.”

“Thanos,” Rocket corrected.

Tony waved his hand dismissively.  “Him, too.”

Gamora shook her head and admonished, “Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are,” Tony shot back automatically.  “Whoa, déjà vu!”

“Did you say FIFTY thou--?”  Quill couldn’t even find the words he was so overwhelmed.  Throwing his arms around Tony, he gave the man a huge bear hug.  “I love you, bro.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot,” Tony laughed, patting Quill on the back.  “Would this be a good time to tell you I fully intend to go old school Captain Kirk on you later?  Explore the final frontier, if you get my drift.”

“Just so you know, I don‘t put out just for a phone, even one as awesome as this,” Quill bantered back, caressing said phone as if it were the greatest treasure in the universe.  “You also have to buy me dinner.”

Tony squeezed Quill‘s shoulder and grinned widely.  “Oh absolutely, Star-Lord.  I know how to properly woo a guy.  Way to a man’s heart, all that jazz.  Hey, do you like shawarma?  I know this great place.  They deliver.  Well, they’ll deliver for me.  They’re back in the city so it’ll take a couple of hours but I guarantee it’s the best food you folks have ever eaten.”  Calling over his shoulder to the other Guardians, he asked, “Anyone else in?”

“I should like to try it,” Mantis said with an excited smile, hurrying to catch up with Tony and Quill.  “I like experiencing new things.”

“There are so many ways I could respond to that, but most of them will get me slapped,” Tony quipped.

“Or worse,” Quill said.  Leaning close to Tony’s ear, he whispered, “Drax kinda has a crush on her, and his nickname is ‘The Destroyer’.”

“Say no more,” Tony whispered back, happy for the warning, though truthfully he only had eyes for Captain Hottie anyway.  To Mantis he said, “Just follow me, my dear lady.  I’ve got a whole world of new things to show you.”  To the others, he gestured grandly towards the Compound,  “C’mon Treebeard.  You too, Crash Bandicoot.  Right this way.”

“I am Groot?”

Tony stopped, turned around, and dramatically clutched at his chest in horror.  “Are you kidding me?  You don't know who Treebeard is?  Fuck me sideways.”

“Do-able” Quill mumbled.

“That’s it, we're definitely watching 'Lord of the Rings' tonight.  The Director's Cut.  You’ll love it.  Oh, and don’t even think about stealing the suit, Meeko,” Tony warned, seeing Rocket making a move towards the Iron Man armor.  “First off, it’s coded just to me, myself, and I, and it’ll turn you into a smoking grease spot faster than you can say ’boy, that was a dumb fucking thing to do.’ And second, it wouldn’t fit you anyway. No sweat.  I can build you one.  I’ve got some odds and ends hanging around the workshop.  Should only take me a day or two.”  He motioned to the last two Guardians.  “You joining us, Green Bean?  Conundrum?  Shawarma for everyone!”

Drax followed along after the others, musing aloud, “How is it possible that he can talk out of his ass?  They did not mention that in any of the tales.  Indeed, he is a hero worthy of song!”

“Fuck my life,” Gamora muttered as she trudged after her team, knowing the hole in the galley door was going to have a new friend very soon.  

THE END *Title is a play on the phrase, "Pennies from Heaven", ie. unexpected good fortune, and as GotG use 'units' instead of money, well, there you go.

#fanfic #tony stark #iron man #guardians of the galaxy #text