#nobody told me that trying to write a book was going to inexplicably make me flustered bc my characters have chemistry???

[thane-emblem]

lich rally getting embarrassed writing 100% sfw banter between my ocs for a story....

#they're not even FLIRTING they are literally having a conversatoin #n im sitting here like OOOOO OH NO SO EMBARRASSING LOOK THEYRE GETTING ALONG #ooohhhhh it's so self indulgent of me to (checks notes) write about characters hitting it off right away #it's fine I'll finish this scene Eventually but #they're the main characters of this story. and they're going to keep getting along. #nobody told me that trying to write a book was going to inexplicably make me flustered bc my characters have chemistry??? #isa's adventures

[bigskydreaming]

Doing some writing today off and on between errands and work, and jumping around various Kings of the Sky installments, specifically Dick, Jason and Cass stuff, so probably gonna post snippets from a bunch of them as I go. 

(Kings of the Sky is an AU that goes canon divergent from the point of Jason calling Dick for advice for dealing with Bruce after the Garzonas case and where things end up going dramatically different from that point on. Including Jason not dying, being part of his own lineup of Titans between Dick and Tim’s, Dick being adopted not long after the Church of Blood incident, Cass being the third Wayne kid to be taken in and adopted and with Tim and Duke being next and then Damian coming along later once they find out about him. This is basically my ‘the family’s alright’ AU with largely ‘Good Dad Bruce’ except for Dick and then Jason yelling some sense into him about the other, respectively, in the first two installments, just FYI).

Anyway, this bit is from a story called “In Their Shadows Grow Trees Of Good and Evil,” set about a year after Cass has been adopted, when she and Jason are both sixteen and Dick’s twenty-one. Also just FYI, because canon has never been specific about what ways Cass is neurodivergent due to the comic-book style ‘rewiring’ of her brain so that she could learn to speak later in life, I tend to go with her being dyslexic and having aphasia. She sticks exclusively to sign language and being a silent presence in her costumed personas, so that there’s no chance of people connecting the dots between Black Bat and Cassandra Wayne, as she mostly speaks verbally in her civilian persona and doesn’t hide her aphasia. The reason there’s not likely to be any obvious signs of aphasia in the snippets of her I post is because I wait until I complete something to choose words at random to replace with aphasia-born mixups, so its more realistic and I’m not gearing her dialogue towards deliberately placed moments. Just in case you were wondering.

In Their Shadows Grow Trees of Good and Evil

“Hey Todd,” sneered an exquisitely obnoxious voice. “Why’s your sister so fucking weird?”

Jason sighed the sigh of a soul a mere century into its eternity of damnation as he rose from the lunch table he’d been studying at and crammed the rest of his books into his backpack. Then he pasted a cheerfully bland smile on his face and turned around, geared for academia warfare (teenage prep school edition).

“Hey Craig,” he said brightly. “Why’d you come out of the womb so ugly your parents had to tie a piece of steak around your neck just to get the family dog to go near you? Mysteries abound.”

The advancing junior slowed a step, momentarily rocked by his truly impressive return volley. The grimace Craig’s already gargoyle-esque features twisted into made his face even more unpleasant to look at than usual, which was quite the feat. Jason would have applauded if just looking at it hadn’t already turned him to stone.

But the bargain basement basilisk kept on towards him rather than turn tail and skulk off to pop his emotional blisters, so Jason sighed a sequel to his first one. Looked like it was one of those days where Craig felt up to powering through. Guess someone had eaten their self-esteem Wheaties that morning. Joy.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, to be honest I kinda have a one track mind, so right now I’m mostly just thinking about punching you in your mistake.”

“My what?”

“Your face,” Jason elaborated with exaggerated patience.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’m saying your face is a mistake. See, its not as fun when I have to stop and explain it to you. Ugh, you ruin everything.”

He neatly sidestepped the older boy as R2-Dumbass stayed frozen, smoke coming off of his internal CPU while trying to catch up. For a second Jason thought he was home free, but then he remembered the universe fucking hated him so haha, sucks to suck. Also, a small crowd had gathered to witness the verbal jousting match, and nothing invigorated an asshole like Craig more than an audience of like-minded peers. So there was that too.

“Whatever. Laugh it up all you want, you little shit,” the junior rallied. “But just remember, mocking your betters will never change the fact that you were born street trash and you’ll be street trash until the day you die.”

Honestly? Not his best effort. Jason almost felt bad using any of his good material. Seemed like overkill at this point. But he did have a strict Scorched Earth policy to maintain, so.....

“Yeah but my dad could buy out and ruin your dad so that means I still win, right?”

He smirked as the barb landed and Craig’s face set into a sunset vista of strangled purple and furious red. Bam. Direct hit.

“Listen, you - “

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it was rhetorical,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t actually care what you think even a little bit. Nobody does. You don’t matter. Please go be irrelevant elsewhere, you’re fucking dismissed, you loser.”

“Speak for yourself, charity case.” Oh goodie, Craig’s backup singers had finally arrived. Now if only he could remember to care enough to learn their names in the first place. Seriously, who told the extras they could have lines? “All the jokes in the world can’t change who and what you are.”

Jason shrugged and continued nonchalantly up the hill to where his sister was standing with arms crossed, staring down at something on the other side.

“True genius is never appreciated in its own time,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be immortalized in song eventually.”

The mob of morons deigned to let him go without further incident. Though he suspected that had less to do with his scathing wit and more to do with him being headed towards Cass. She was immaculately presented as always, wearing the Gotham Academy uniform like she was born to it despite hating its uncomfortable stiffness every bit as much as he did. But that was just Cass for you. 

For all that she still struggled at times to engage verbally or speak up in social settings, her mastery of body language remained without peer. She could chameleon-camouflage her way into matching poise and posture with anyone - a skill that had allowed her to walk into school on her very first day with her head held high as though she owned everything in her sight. Exuding so much Queen Bee Intimidation Factor even the other hive queens were afraid to approach her  themselves. Sending forth their drones to try and woo her into an alliance, only to see her remain oh-so-casually above it all, a slightly contemptuous smile adorning her lips.

Basically, she scared the shit out of their classmates without them having anywhere close to a true understanding of why, and Jason was outrageously jealous. Rude. Unfair. Why did his siblings always get all the cool toys when all he had was his rakish charm, scintillating intellect and debonair.....nah, who was he kidding. He was fucking awesome. 

“Sup, sis,” he said, cresting the hill to stand beside Cass. “Just FYI, I just took a popularity bullet for you, which means you owe me your dessert tonight. Its a family rule that’s totally a real thing and definitely not something I just made up right now because Alf is making chocolate soufflé.”

She made no acknowledgment and remained stock still, a Colossus at Rhodes peering down into the shifting shadows of the parking lot below.

He peered down as well, though with absolutely no idea what they were looking at. Solidarity, yo.

“So are we staring fixedly at anything in particular, or should I just pick my own spot and commit?”

His humor was totally wasted on her as always. Instead of laughing and telling him what a lovable goof he was, she just inclined her head in the direction of a blonde girl where she was standing next to the driver’s side door of a Mercedes-Benz, dictating final commandments to her peons before departing. Well, probably. Jason was just guessing, based on his own body language reads, and like, general disdain for literally everyone at this school that wasn’t related to him.

He made a face. An extra special one reserved just for this classmate in particular. “Ugh, Madison Dunleavy? She’s the worst.”

Cass raised a cool eyebrow. “I thought Craig Hendricks was the worst.”

“He is. They’re both the worst. Its a hotly contested position here at Gotham Academy.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded back down at the Queen of Air and Darkness. “So. You know her?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen her in my life. No idea who that is. Can’t help you, sorry. Shall we go home?”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition speared him with clear intent. Who the fuck needed words when you could pack the Encyclopedia Britannica into a single facial expression?

Jason sighed gustily. 

“I had a slight altercation with her freshman year that led to her declaring her undying enmity for me until the end of time. The word nemesis may or may not have been thrown around once or twice. I can’t recall.”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition lowered nary an inch. Ugh, she wanted more? Why did everyone in his family hate privacy, with the obvious exclusion of himself when snooping through Cass and Dick’s rooms for blackmail material, which was actually intel-gathering and thus another matter entirely.

“Okay so basically what happened was my first week here I overheard her talking shit about me and not even twenty minutes later she was pretending to kiss my ass in homeroom, like probably because of Bruce, y’know? So I just busted out laughing and told her to fuck off and die and she has inexplicably loathed me ever since.”

Avoiding further Eyebrow Inquisition-ing, he made a show of peering around aimlessly. When the silence extended and it was clear Cass was absolutely not going to break first, Jason waved a hand in dismissal and took to peering oh so casually at his fingernails. "I suppose I was less tactful back in those days.”

He chanced a look up, finally, and saw his sister’s eyebrow had somehow managed to mighty morphin power ranger its way into a configuration evoking both judgment and disbelief, with the latter perhaps aimed at the idea he was significantly differing in the tact department these days either.

“I don’t love the implications your face is making right now,” he told her.

She ignored him, because of course she did. 

“Does she know Dick?” She asked instead. Jason shrugged.

“I mean, maybe? She’s probably seen him around at one of those stupid galas we have to go to, and actually I think maybe she has an older brother who was either in Dick’s grade or like, one above or below it? I don’t know.”

Now both eyebrows were doing the dance of disbelief. Okay, so maybe that was poor situational awareness on his part, since it wasn’t like Gotham Academy was a big school with a ton of other kids and also he’d only been in the same class as Madison for like over two whole years, but whatever. There were extingent circumstances.

“Look, she’s a total snob who’s always looked down on me and in return I willfully ignore both her existence and that of everyone and everything even tangentially related to her. Its called equality, Cass.”

She pursed her lips and went back to the peering, because of course in the mind of Cass it made total sense that the Grand Inquisition didn’t need to be followed up by any explanation on her part, what the hell. Like was he supposed to have inferred it?

“What’s this all about anyway?”

“I heard her talking about Dick earlier,” she said without peeling her eyes away from her personal recon mission. “I don’t know what she said though, I just heard her say Grayson, and then I was busy looking at what her body was saying. I know it was about Dick because she shut down when she saw me. And I didn’t like the way she....looked....before that happened. The way she was talking. It was.....”

Jason frowned but held back any follow-up questions while he waited - with total patience because he wasn’t an absolute cad, thank you very much - for his sister to find the word she was hunting for. It was a major source of frustration for her, that whatever neural map her brain followed put body language and spoken language in totally different regions of her brain, separated by a fairly great divide. Meaning she usually had to make a conscious choice to focus on body language or conventional languages - whether verbal or sign. But it tended to be one or the other; she’d yet to master taking in and comprehending both forms of ‘language’ at the same time. And none of them had quite figured out how to convince her that she wasn’t actually missing anything when she chose to focus on one specific form of communication - that she was still observing far more than most people ever would.

“Proprietary,” Cass settled on at last. She nodded her satisfaction with her choice of word, and Jason waited a whole two point five seconds before sticking  his whole foot in his mouth.

“Proprietary?” He asked with a scrunched nose as he weighed that for possible context and implications. “You sure?”

She glared. He winced. It was a whole thing.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry, I heard it the second it was out of my mouth. We don’t actually have to experiment with the legitimacy of if looks could kill.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but eh. That could’ve gone worse.

Jason swiftly redirected attention anyway. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.

“So. The Queen of Air and Darkness was talking about our big bro, and her mood was.....proprietary, huh?” He recapped while digesting the info like a boss. “Well. Definitely not loving that, I gotta say. Hold please.”

Pulling out his phone and pulling up his most recent texts, he began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” Cass asked.

“Texting Tom,” he replied, because duh. Hah, now it was his chance to have the answers that should be patently obvious and thus make with the ‘are you kidding me’ when she asked obvious questions she should know the answer to! How do you like them apples, sis?

“Why are you texting your boyfriend right now?”

Jason rolled his eyes, because fair is fair, but never ceased texting for a moment. Time was of the essence here, probably. Well, maybe. Okay probably not. But it’d still been like half an hour since he and Tom had last texted and that’s a very fucking long time in teenage years.

“To be our getaway driver tonight, obviously.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look up, but he could feel it anyway. He was very intuitive like that.

“What?”

Jason heaved another sigh, one keyed to tones of ‘oh my god, do I really have to spell this out,” exasperation. He was just racking up the bonus points here. It was really too bad this wasn’t an actual competition he could actually win and this was all just pettiness taking place wholly in his own head. Lame. 

“Well, clearly we now have to go snoop in Madison’s house aka lair to see if its actually a house or a full on lair. Because she’s either a creeper or like, legit evil, and its important to know which one before we proceed, because obviously we can only bust her for being a weird creeper about our brother as Jason and Cass, whereas if she’s legit evil, that’s gotta go down as Robin and Black Bat. I’ll handle the snooping, you’ll take look-out, but we still need a wheelman and that’s why I’m texting Tom. This is all very mission-oriented, okay. I’m a professional.”

“Right,” she affirmed, while sounding anything but convinced. “Why don’t we just tell Bruce?”

Without looking up or breaking stride, he said: “I’m going to give you til I finish typing this sentence to figure out what was wrong with what you just said. Remember that we are talking about hypothetical danger to our brother, and also Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response to any of his children being in even hypothetical danger. And also our brother’s idea of a proportionate response to Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response. Look, you’re still new so I’m gonna need you to just trust me on this one. Its gonna be a no on telling Bruce without further intel.”

Cass said nothing in response to that, which meant that she was conceding the point and recognized the wisdom of his words. Or maybe that she was just gonna go ahead and do what she wanted anyway and just wasn’t bothering to fight about it, but it was probably that first thing.

“Well you better not just make out with your boyfriend all night,” is what she said at last, and that got his attention reeeeeal quick like.

“Umm. Wow. Okay. So, first off, you’re not the boss of me and who I make out with and when, so jot that down. And second, now I’m definitely going to make out with my boyfriend extra hard, with the exception of when we are actually on our recon mission because as previously established, I am a professional. And also, again, you’re not the boss of me.”

Jason ignored her Eye Roll With Extra Emphasis, and instead just held up his phone to Text With Extra Emphasis, as he read along with what he was typing.

“By the way babe, we have to make out extra hard tonight,” he said, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he dragged out his dictation with the kind of focus that usually led to Bruce asking why he couldn’t apply as much intensity to training as he did to pettiness. “Cass has suddenly decided she can dictate terms to me and I need to shut that shit down ASAP, so thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter. Smoochies and other gay stuff to the best boyfriend ever.”

Jason frowned as a response pinged back seconds later. 

TheCatsMeow: ....the things I put up with for the sake of your weird family dynamics.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint among were-panthers. Must you mock? Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty instead?

TheCatsMeow: Sorry. Let me try again. OMG you’re so pretty Jase how did I get so lucky xoxo.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: No. Its too late. It feels forced and unbelievable now. You’ve ruined it forever.

TheCatsMeow: Got it. From now on I will only tell you that you’re repulsive and hideous.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: I’m breaking up with you.

TheCatsMeow: But after I help you with your mission tonight.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Obvsly. I’m a professional. Why do people keep forgetting this?

TheCatsMeow: And also the making out to spite your sister.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah we should do that first too. I mean we already penciled it in.

[aster-aspera]

Just a short chapter I wrote for new year.

CW: child abandonment, homelessness

Pairings: romantic/platonic DLAMP, romantic anxceit

Happy New Year everyone, I hope you have a great day/night and I hope 2021 brings everyone better tidings <3

Masterpost

Janus ignored the urge to straighten his bowtie before walking up the small path that led to the house. As much as he wished he could make some final adjustments to his look, his hands were currently full, with flowers on one side and his cane on the other. He figured dropping either to fiddle with his bowtie would be a rather ridiculous look.

It would be fine, he told himself. It was just a small celebration at their house, it didn't matter how he looked. They loved him, they wouldn’t judge him.

And oh, those words. They loved him.

The thought made him simultaneously want to leap with happiness and run for the hills as fast as he could. It was so terrifyingly new and at the same time it felt so comfortably familiar. The phone calls that lasted way longer than they should. The bad days when all of them came over and baked him bread. The banter over the comms when he was too tired to join in on patrol. They loved him.

A raven haired head popping itself out the door distracted him from his brooding.

“Dude, are you just gonna spend the whole evening standing in our garden or are you gonna come in?” Virgil asked.

“I was just admiring the flowers,” Janus drawled.

Virgil raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Come in, everyone’s waiting for you.”

He stepped inside and handed Virgil the flowers.

“Aww, are those for us? How sweet,” Virgil cooed.

Janus definitely didn’t blush. “It’s polite.”

“It’s romantic,” Virgil teased.

“Virgil,” Janus sighed, trying to sound exasperated but only managing to sound fond.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Come on, I need to start frying the gulab jamun.”

“You’re making gulab jamun?” Janus asked, pleasantly surprised. They were apparently a famed treat in this household.

“Yeah,” Virgil stopped when he walked into Roman.

“And now he shows up,” Virgil snarked “Here, go put these in a vase, I have dessert to attend to.” He shoved the flowers into Roman’s hands and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

Roman beamed at Janus. 

“Hello darling,” He purred “You look absolutely stunning.”

“You are not allowed to use that nickname, it’s mine, I licensed it,” Janus protested.

“Oh, but I just love the way it flusters you, darling.” 

Janus could feel the heat creeping all the way from under his collar up to his cheeks. Roman was definitely getting back at him for all the times Janus had flustered him in costume.

“Roman, stop,” Janus sighed as he gently pushed his shoulder.

Roman just chuckled and led him into the living room, where Logan was arranging some snacks.

“Guess who arrived!” Roman announced to the entire house.

Logan looked over and smiled brightly.

“Hello Janus, you look good.”

“As do you,” Janus complimented as he walked over to shake his hand. Logan ignored the proffered hand and pulled him into a hug.

Well, okay. He hadn’t seen that one coming.

Of all four of them, Logan was the least keen on physical contact. Patton and Roman were always going in for surprise hugs and even Virgil would frequently rest his head on Janus’s shoulder. But Janus had only ever seen Logan hug his boyfriends. And that one memorable time when Janus had nearly drowned and Logan had cuddled him to keep him warm, but he really prefered not to think about that.

“Will you be joining us for patrol?” Logan asked when he pulled away.

“No, not today.” Janus lifted his cane a bit to illustrate his point.

Logan nodded understandingly. “We’ll be happy to have you on comms for tonight.”

Janus made his way into the kitchen, where Patton was sliding something into the oven as Roman bothered him.

“You can’t bake something at 1800 degrees, Roman, that’s not how baking works.” Patton sighed. He noticed Janus entering the kitchen and beamed at him.

“Dee!” Patton smiled at him. “I’m so happy you’re here. Food’s nearly ready. ”

“Why not? 10 minutes at 180 degrees equals 1 minute at 1800 degrees. That’s how math works.” Roman interjected.

“Well, it’s not how ovens work,” Virgil groaned, from where he was bent over the frying pan, a little closer to the hot oil than was probably safe.

“If you guys would just listen to me, food would be ready in a minute,” Roman sighed.

“Virgil’s right, sweetie, that’s not how ovens work,” Patton said.

Virgil stuck his tongue out.

“Very mature,” Janus laughed.

Eventually, when all the food had been baked at an acceptable temperature, they gathered around the table.

“So, does anyone have any new year’s resolutions?” Patton asked them.

“New year’s resolutions are just a festive way of lying to yourself. Nobody actually keeps them,” Janus said.

“See! He gets it,” Virgil said triumphantly.

“Come on,” Patton pleaded, “humour me.” 

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes, but Janus could see the fondness in them.

“Well, my new year’s resolution is to take more time to read books I’ve been meaning to read. I have a whole pile of interesting paperbacks,” Logan went first.

“Of course you would choose something so nerdy,” Roman teased, “My resolution is to spend as much time as possible with you, my loves,” He swept a grand gesture over the room and Janus tried not to think about how he was somehow included in that, “and I vow to give you all the kisses and hugs you deserve.”

“Well, next year I resolve to make better bad decisions and to remember to write 2021 instead of 2020,” Patton chimed in with a bright smile, “but in all seriousness, I hope to spend more time writing next year and maybe sign up for some art classes.”

“That’s a great idea, Pat, I might join you for those,” Virgil said.

“See, now you have some new year’s resolutions too.”

“What about you, Janus?” Logan questioned.

“Well, I guess if I have to, I resolve not to kill as many people this year,” He answered sarcastically.

Patton shot him a look. “Try again.”

“Fine,” Janus sighed, “I resolve to read more books, I guess.”

“Splendid resolutions, my dear lord of the lies,” Roman praised.

“Are we going to eat now? We have to patrol in a few hours,” Virgil complained.

“As always, you really have your priorities sorted, Virgil,” Logan said teasingly.

Logan shrugged himself into his costume with precise movements and fastened the cloak at his neck.

“You know, I really don’t get the cloak. Isn’t it awfully impractical?” Janus asked him from where he was draped against the door frame.

“Maybe, but I distinctly remember it coming in handy when you nearly died of hypothermia. How would people say it? It saved you ass?” Logan answered smugly.

“That was one time, you can’t tell me you wear a ridiculous cape,”

“Cloak.”

“Whatever, because someone might fall into the harbour. How often does that even happen?”

“More than you’d think. Also, Batman wears a cloak.”

“Batman is designed by nerds who don’t even know how to throw a punch, it’s a wonder you haven’t tripped over it yet when vaulting over rooftops.”

“Unlike some people who don’t need a cloak to trip when vaulting over rooftops?” Logan asked, voice full of faux innocence.

Janus growled exasperatedly and punched his arm, in the friendly way.

“As much as I love hearing you two bicker, we do need to start patrol,” Roman interrupted.

“Bye, Dee!” Patton hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the nose before bustling out the door. 

Roman and Logan followed in quick succession, pressing kisses to his cheek and forehead. They sauntered out of the room, leaving him reeling with the ease they had done that. 

Virgil smirked up at him from where he was sitting at the computer, looking over some police reports. 

“What?” Janus asked him.

“Nothing,” Virgil replied with a shit eating grin, “You just look awfully cute when you blush.” 

“I’m not cute,” Janus snarled.

“Whatever you say,” Virgil replied as he walked past him. He stopped for a moment, staring into Janus’s eyes. His look didn’t bode well for Janus. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Janus’s neck and then pulled him close. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, his eyes drifting to Janus’s lips.

“Very,” Janus managed, his voice a little rough.

Virgil leaned forward and pressed a soft but insistent kiss on his lips. Janus felt himself leaning into it, the sweet taste of honey and saffron overwhelming his senses.

After what felt like a mere fraction of a second, Virgil pulled away. Janus made a small noise of protest and Virgil chuckled.

“Later,” He promised, “I have to go patrol now.”

He walked out the room, leaving Janus feeling lightheaded and wondering if the others were as good at kissing as Virgil. He sincerely hoped so.

~

Patrol was surprisingly uneventful. Generally, the statistics indicated there was a rise in crime around the holiday period. New year itself was always quite a hazardous day, with the large crowd of people out at late hours and the fireworks masking any sounds that could give you away. 

Yet this year, Logan had found himself inexplicably looking out to the new year. Maybe it was the fact that a certain former villain had enthusiastically agreed to come over and celebrate.

Whatever the reason, the city had decided to grace them with a calm night and Logan sat on a rooftop ledge, watching Virgil teach Patton a back handspring on the adjoining rooftop.

“Can you do one of those?” Janus asked him over the comms as they watched Patton fall onto his back for the third time.

“They’re not too hard.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, nerd,” Roman chimed into the conversation from where he was checking out an alleyway somewhere.

“I’m sure I could manage it,” Logan sighed.

“Like Patton’s managing this one?” Virgil quipped as Patton landed on the ground once more. Logan was incredibly grateful for the shock absorbent breastplate he wore.

“I nearly got that one!” 

“Sure, pat.”

“Shit,” He heard Roman hiss through the comms.

“What?” Janus’s voice was immediately on edge and Logan heard the familiar clicking of keys, telling him Janus was probably pulling up the live feed from Roman’s mask.

“Oh,” He said.

“What’s going on?” Patton asked, righting himself from the wet rooftop.

“A kid,” Roman gasped.

Logan felt his heart clench. 

“Is he hurt?” Virgil asked.

“No, not as far as we can see, but he does look malnourished,” Janus explained.

Logan got up and quickly swung down from the rooftop, the others right behind him.

They entered the alleyway, where Roman was crouched in the corner, whispering quietly.

He looked up and gestured for them to stay back. They obliged, Patton sitting down against a wall as Virgil walked a bit further back to make sure no one would enter the small street.

Logan leant against a dumpster bin, trying not to look too threatening.

“It’s alright, we won’t hurt you. Could you just tell me your name?” Roman asked gently.

“My mom told me never to give a stranger my name,” The kid deadpanned.

Logan smiled, if the kid was quipping back, he couldn’t be in too bad a shape.

“Touché” Roman chuckled, “you can call me prince.” 

“Like the singer?” The kid asked with an audible chuckle.

“No,” Roman sighed and Logan heard Patton giggle.

“Well, you probably should have chosen a better name then.”

“Probably,” Roman said, “At least give me something I can call you, if you’re not gonna tell me your name.”

The kid thought for a moment. “Fine,” he drawled, “You can call me J.”

“Ok, well J, that corner doesn’t look all that comfortable, if you would come with us, I’m sure we could find you more suitable lodgings.”

“No!” J snapped, fear colouring his voice.

“Why not?” Roman asked, clearly taken aback.

“You’ll just stick me in the system and... they don’t want me there.” J choked up a bit and Logan saw Patton’s eyes fill with sympathy.

“No, we won’t,” Roman promised.

“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do with me then? Nobody wants some abandoned street rat.” J sighed bitterly. Logan ached at how he seemed to have given up any hope of someone caring for him. The poor kid had clearly been through too much in his life.

“Do you really have no one left?” Roman asked.

“Do you think I’d be sleeping on the streets if someone still cared about me?”

Roman looked back at them helplessly.

“Isn’t there anywhere he could stay on short notice?” Virgil asked.

“I have people,” Janus interjected quietly.

“Dee, no!” Patton exclaimed, “we’re not going to drop some kid off with those thugs you work with.”

“Not like that,” Janus sighed and Logan could almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know someone who works for me who’s really good with kids. He and his partner have fostered kids before. I think they could help him.”

“Really? You think he’d just be okay with it if we rolled up with a kid?”

“I’d have to discuss it with him first, but I’m certain we can find a home for J, if not with this guy, we’ll definitely find someone else.”

“I could ask my moms,” Patton conceded,” I don’t think they’re up for another kid, but they might know someone who wants to take care of him.”

“And what for tonight? We can’t really show up at someone’s house and just drop him off.” Virgil said.

“Take him to our home,” Logan suggested.

“Are you crazy? That’s a huge security risk,” Virgil burst out.

“We can’t just leave him in the cold to freeze,” Patton protested.

“I have a safe house near where you are, just take him there,” Janus interjected.

“Is that settled then?” Roman asked them from where he was still crouched in the corner, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I think so,” Patton replied.

“Okay kid, let's get moving. We’re taking you to a safehouse near here,” Roman told him.

“Did you explain everything to him?” Logan asked, he really hadn’t heard Roman say anything.

“Of course, you guys were too busy bickering to notice.”

J still regarded them warily and Logan was vaguely worried he was going to bolt the moment they got out of the alleyway.

“Hey,” Logan said, trying not to sound too awkward, “we’re not just going to abandon you to the system. We're heroes and that means we’ll find a way to help anyone.”

J just looked up at him with an unimpressed expression. “Right.” He shouldered past Logan, heading to where Virgil was waiting.

Patton quickly caught up to them, probably because Virgil was looking at the kid like he wanted to flee to the nearest rooftop.

“So you’re really not gonna tell us your name?”

“No.”

“You guys want me to head to the safe house too?” Janus asked, ignoring their chatter.

“We’d love that,” Roman beamed, “We might even be just in time for the new year.”

They got J settled on the ratty couch in the squalid safe house. It wasn’t a terrible safe house, it was actually quite clean. It just clearly wasn’t used for much except the occasional emergency.

Janus arrived quickly, dropping a bag filled with what Logan presumed was food.

J froze when he saw Janus. “Deceit?” He asked and Logan felt his stomach plummet. Of course the kid would be afraid, they had trapped him in a small space together with the city’s most notorious crime lord. It didn’t matter that Janus had never and would never harm a child, his reputation was terrifying enough.

But inexplicably, the kid’s shoulders relaxed and he seemed moderately more at ease.

“You know, most people don’t look so at ease in my presence,” Janus said, clearly also puzzled by the reaction.

J shrugged. “You’re not that bad, you’ve helped a lot of my friends, gave them jobs and places to stay. You do more for the street kids of this city than these heroes.”

Roman gasped in mock offence. Logan shrugged. It made sense, they didn’t have the resources or connections to help kids like J, but Janus had been putting an effort into helping the worst off in their city for years. It seemed his efforts hadn’t gone as unnoticed as they had previously assumed.

Janus grinned at them, his expression smug and then grabbed something from the bag. 

“Here,” He held out a soft sweater, “this is for you, it would be a shame if we went through all the trouble of getting you here and then you died from hypothermia.”

“You could just invest in a space heater for this place,” Virgil complained.

“Sure, because this space is used so often. It definitely isn’t a waste of money to purchase heaters for all those safe houses I barely use,” Janus snarked.

J ignored their bickering and sauntered over to the window, pulling the sweater over his head.

“Hey, guys,” Patton interrupted, “I think it’s time.”

Logan looked at the time on the corner of his display. He was right, the clock told him there was only one minute left of this year.

They all gathered round the window, looking out over the city.

“To new beginnings,” Patton announced.

“To new beginnings,” They all replied. J just rolled his eyes.

Logan felt Patton clutch his arm and Janus loop an arm around his waist as bright fireworks exploded over the city skyline. He looked over at his friends, how they stood gathered together, their faces awash with the colours of the fireworks. 

And he looked at J, the young kid who was staring at the fireworks as if they were something magical, his hands tangled in the sleeves of his sweater. 

Logan promised himself he would do everything to get him a good home, he deserved so much more than the world had given him.

New beginnings, it was a fitting sentiment.

#janus sanders #ts janus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #sander sides #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #roman sanders #ts roman #sanders sides fic #dlamp #ts dlamp #romantic dlamp #anxceit #virgil/janus #superhero au #ts superhero au #my writing #uhhh #i feel like i forgot to tag something #tell me if i did

[hearttstopper]

“i have a lot of thoughts about this too especially with the whole watermelon sugar/nameless thing” pls miss britt share ur thoughts id love to hear them

This got so long. I’m really sorry. My thoughts about HS2/In Watermelon Sugar/a bunch of other random stuff under the cut.

These are all thoughts that are only vaguely connected, and stuff that I’m sure has been said a hundred times before mixed with a ton of my own personal conjecture, so please bear that in mind… This is just like total rambling from me. 

But I have been fascinated with Harry’s connections to In Watermelon Sugar since we first heard the stupid rumors about the song. Especially the quote from the book about the narrator’s name. That quote got me thinking about how when it comes to Harry, tons of people only see what they want to see based on whatever ‘version’ of Harry is most appealing to them.

Read these quotes from the book with that in mind:

My Name

“I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on you. Just call me whatever is in your mind.

If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was raining very hard.

That is my name.

Or somebody wanted you to do something. You did it. Then they told you what you did was wrong—“Sorry for the mistake,”—and you had to do something else.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was a game you played when you were a child or something that came idly into your mind when you were old and sitting in a chair near the window.

That is my name.

Or you walked someplace. There were flowers all around.

That is my name.

Perhaps you stared into a river. There was something near you who loved you. They were about to touch you. You could feel this before it happened. Then it happened.

That is my name.”

and:

“My Name. I do not have a regular name. I am a mystery to you. I wished Margaret would leave me alone…”

— Richard Brautigan, In Watermelon Sugar

The narrator of In Watermelon Sugar isn’t just a nameless figure, he actually invites the reader to give him whatever name they find most fitting for him. A positive connotation, a negative one, a nonsensical one… whatever you, the reader, decides. And that feels like a very apt description of Harry and the various ways fans have perceived him from the very beginning… by now, so many people have projected so many different images onto Harry that over time it has completely blurred all lines as to who Harry actually is. 

Here’s a review I found of the book that summarizes the world within In Watermelon Sugar better than I can (as well as somehow still aligning perfectly with the concept of struggling with fame and identity, etc): “Much of the sense of disparity in [in Watermelon Sugar] results from the incongruity inherent in the person of the narrator, who insists that everything in iDEATH is exactly as it should be—the people gentle, pleasant, and tolerant. Despite the narrator’s insistence that iDEATH is a stable Utopia, however, many of the things that happen are fraught with pain and violence. Balancing the easygoing and vegetarian people with their light chores and flower-filled parades are the man-eating tigers, the burning of the mutilated corpses of inBOIL and his gang, Margaret’s suicide, and the emptiness felt by the narrator but never named.” 

So essentially within In Watermelon Sugar, we’re shown that in the surrealist, post-apocalyptic setting of iDeath, things are only perfect on a surface level. Everyone in this world appears to be happy (or at least, they should be), but a closer look reveals the true nature of iDeath: it’s beyond grim. And so despite the happy, shiny surface, being a part of that happy, peaceful commune is unable to cure the narrator of the inexplicable emptiness he feels inside of him. (‘All the lights couldn’t put out the dark running through my heart.’ ‘Having sex and being sad.’)

The sadness that Harry has already admitted is very prevalent in HS2 has already been implied to be about a ‘breakup,’ but it’s clear to me that Lights Up is anything but a breakup song… (“[Lights Up is about] freedom, self-reflection, self-discovery, things that I had thought about and wrestled with…” + “For me, it’s a very uplifting song. In some places, it’s kind of dark, but to me, it’s like, very liberating. I think, you know, over the past couple of years… It’s about self-reflection, and freedom. It feels very free to me, which is I guess things that I’ve been trying to process… I guess, kinda wrestled with a little over the last couple of years. It’s kinda like, about accepting all of those things.”)

His sadness/whatever emotions and problems he’s been wrestling with have seemingly spanned the course of a few years, and are very personal to him… which is why I feel that releasing Lights Up as the first single sets the tone for the rest of his album centering around his own identity. The line “Lights up and they know who you are, know who you are… Do you know who you are?” poses the question - who is Harry? - and then, “Shine! Step into the light… Shine! So bright sometimes. Shine! I’m not ever going back.” shows us Harry having the strength and bravery to overcome his fears (stepping into the light, although it’s ‘so bright sometimes’ - overwhelming) and reclaim/express his own misunderstood identity.

A lot of people have been trying to tie the In Watermelon Sugar thing back to someone else, but at this point I completely disagree. Not only have we seen him make literary references in the past (the Charles Bukowski reference in Woman), but… given everything that he’s said about Lights Up so far – which was surprisingly a lot – I think that Harry genuinely just took a lot of inspiration from the book because it seemed to hit close to home with his own feelings about self-acceptance and living an authentic life within the public eye. 

I think a lot about the scene we’ve yet to see from the directors cut - a room full of many different iterations of Harry.

“My name depends on you… Just call me whatever is in your mind.” 

Which leads me back to more total conjecture on my end, but I think that when Harry initially set out on tour / kicked off his solo career, he seemed determined to continue performing within the safety of the walls that had been built around him, so to speak. In one of the interviews he did earlier, he talked about tackling his first album from the perspective of ‘bowling with the bumpers up’ - he wanted to play it safe. He didn’t want to veer too far out of his own comfort zone and fuck it all up… and in doing so, he seemed to hold himself back quite a lot. “I wanted to see if people would enjoy an album without knowing everything about me.” 

I think that heading into writing with that mindset explains songs like ‘Complicated Freak’ and ‘Medicine’ being scrapped and excluded from being released on HS1. In retrospect, all of his tour - and especially Medicine - seem a lot like Harry dipping his toes in the water. Being totally presumptuous again, but I find it likely that Harry has had it ingrained in his mind for a long time that he needs to fit certain molds and keep certain narratives alive in order to continue to be successful. And I imagine that this idea is not his own, but instead something that has been hammered into his head over and over from a young age. And I would guess that a lot of anxiety and doubt has stemmed from that - go back and watch that shaky first performance of Medicine and tell me what you think he was likely feeling in that moment. But again, it circles right back to the strength and bravery of doing what he knows needs to be done to expel all of the darkness inside of him - stepping into the light. (“Never going back now / Be so sweet if things just stayed the same.” It’d be so sweet if he could live in that fantasyland forever.)

Anyway. I really don’t think Harry was at all prepared for just how many people would show up to support him in that sense… but his own community just rolled up in droves, bringing a total outpouring of love for him every single night. He had entire arenas lit up in rainbows, people bringing hilarious and heartfelt signs, flags after flags after flags after flags… all in celebration of him and the feelings of safety, strength, and bravery that he has continuously imparted back onto his fans. It was such a queer lovefest that even other artists likened his tour to “pride parades every night.” That’s so unbelievably powerful? I can’t think of any other artist who’s crowds do that for them… not even gay icons like Elton John? I still maintain that one of the most incredible things to have come out of HSLOT was the safe spaces he + his fans created for one another. It meant a lot to us, and it clearly meant a lot to him:

“The tour, that affected me deeply. It really changed me emotionally. Having people come to sing the songs… For me, the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think. I kept thinking, “Oh, wow. They really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.” That’s the thing I’m most thankful for, of touring. I feel like the fans in the room — it’s this environment where people come to feel like they can be themselves. There’s nothing that makes me feel more myself than to be in this whole room of people. It made me realize people want to see me experiment and have fun. Nobody wants to see you fake it.” 

I think that going on tour, and seeing the reaction and the acceptance of his audience, definitely made him want to take the bumpers down… to ‘be out and do it’ because ‘nobody wants to see him fake it.’ It seemed to help him massively in terms of his own ‘self acceptance and the things he’s been wrestling with’ and to make an incredibly, incredibly long winded answer short, it’s why I STILL do not think that releasing Lights Up on National Coming Out Day was in any way incidental. I think that was a big part of what Harry meant when he said that no one wanted to see him ‘faking’ things.

And… that’s basically it, I think, for now. I’ve just been sitting here nodding along at everything he’s been showing us the last few weeks… Impressed by the direction that he seems to be heading. And taking notes. I’ll go ahead and shut up now because I KNOW it’s still too early to draw definite conclusions on his intent for this new ‘era’ (and this new song could be about choking on literal fucking watermelon seeds for all I know, nothing Harry does ever makes any kind of sense does it), but I can’t help but come to my own conclusions based on what I feel he is sharing with us.

#like if anyone actually thinks that it makes more sense for harry to be crying over borrowed slippers from an ex #and writing entire songs based off of his ex's supposed favorite book... be my guest or whatever #but it totally undermines how smart harry actually is. he used the word 'regalia' in a fucking interview the other day #like c'mon lmao #anyway #this is just me rambling for like... a solid 2k #sorry #when he makes me look like booboo i'll at least be a more educated booboo or whatever #:') #*

[heuristicallyinclined]

Nobody Knows

Hey, so this is my first public fanfic. I have been a Homestuck fan since the early 2010′s but Hiveswap slammed me back into it hard enough to write. Cringe is dead and it is going to be angsty and indulgent with canon treated as a suggestion. I’ve been spamming some of my favorite writers in the fandom with ideas in their inbox and decided to actually do something about some of them. Most of this comes from some future angst with Mallek I sent @clusband a few weeks ago during sad Mallek hours. Constructive advice welcome.

Get some hurt, comfort, fluff, a lot of angst. A lot of background characters.

Summary: MSPA Reader reflects on their current situation and unhappiness at not being able to see their old friends again. They accept that they past they once knew them in no longer exists, but what about the present? 

Chapter 1: Self-reflection and other cool ways to spend the day

Part 1/?

(Word count: 3,085 | Rated T | Past MSPA Reader x Mallek Adalov,  MSPA Reader x Mallek Adalov, Past MSPA Reader x Polypa Goezee, Background DaveKat)

AO3 Links: Part One (This) | Part Two  | Part Three

Being back in your hive after however long it has been brings up memories. Memories that you had spent so long aching for whenever the discomfort of that void inside of you passed. Focusing on that hollowness for too long always made you uncomfortable, but you sometimes would try to understand why that was. You tried, you really did, to the point of feeling that static so hard that your vision would go white and you couldn’t hear anything over the sound of it in your mind, feeling like you were going to pass out. You think one time you did, but it was hard to tell. Fuck.

You thought that getting them back would help, make you more content, fill it even, make you feel whole again? But you just feel even emptier and like an even more monumentally bigger fuck up. You drink your shitty, expired coffee made in the coffee machine Tagora bought you a long time ago in the mug Skyyla made you, thumbing over the Ladyy design on the handle. You smile at the idea of her making such a comparatively small mug for you. Imagining the struggle of her larger hands trying to make something usable for your much smaller ones. You feel the warmth from your drink and your memory. At least your makeshift home was too out of the way to be ransacked, that or too much of a death risk for anyone other than alien refugees to try to make their way into.

You look around you at all of the trinkets your friends had given you. Remembering how at the time, you felt so rewarded, accepted even. Trolls being, well, trolls, had a hard time opening up to others given how much of a hellscape the whole planet was. So every time you made some progress, you felt like you got the neighborhood cat to approach you without getting too clawed up.

You look over in the corner and notice the plastic bag you got when grabbing some oblong meat products for Dieman at Grub-Mart. You had some extra caegars and figured he might be exhausted after doing whatever drug that was at Ardata’s party. You figured that some sweet meat might help with the hangover. You definitely needed it.

Your teal highlighter had been covered in dust, having not been used since you decided to be a good friend and smuggle some snacks into the bookhive to support your favorite legislacerators-in-training late night, er morning, study session. You stayed as moral support, given you know fuck all about the laws of any given planet and also enjoy having your flesh remain unscorched. You feel like you learned a lot. Probably. You mostly shared meaningful eye contact and words of encouragement.

Drawings from clown children and sketches from Amisia cover your walls. So do ticket stubs from Marvus’ and Chixie’s shows. You felt an odd sense of pride in being one of the most normal people there, extraterrestrial status not withstanding. A set of indigo sweatbands from exercising with Nikhee that you would also use with Stelsa during scaerobics classes are hung on hooks. There was a rom-com with a title too long to read in your lifetime that you watched with Polypa and books borrowed from Galekh that you never returned.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You care about all of your new friends, of course you do! It is just that… you feel more like the universe’s least qualified guidance counselor instead of their friend sometimes. You’re older than them, so it is maybe more like a sibling or a sketchy babysitter kind of relationship. They all have kinda weird, hard lives, even the ones on Earth, so you don’t mind being an interdimensional taxi service, or a postman who delivers kids to other kids, but they tend to relate more with each other than with you. Which makes sense, and you're definitely happy they finally get to be with other people their own age, but seeing them hanging out with each other really makes you long for the people you once had the same kinds of relationships with.

You had Karkat ask about your hoodie before you got your memories back and Sollux mentioned Mallek, but you got a little occupied by drones. It had been a bit since then. After taking Karkat back to his hive after a movie night with Dave, you noticed him eyeing your hoodie again.

“HEY. SO YOU NEVER ACTUALLY TOLD ME.”

Told you what?

“DON’T BE OBTUSE, I GET ENOUGH OF THAT FROM ALL OF THE OTHER BULGELICKERS THAT HAVE TRAMPLED THEIR WAY INTO MY EXISTENCE. DID YOU KNOW SOMEONE NAMED ADALOV?”

Oh, yeah the hoodie. After remembering, you were not looking forward to this conversation. You look off and let him know, yeah, you did. You trying not to make a big deal of it has clearly had the opposite impact on him.

“YOU TELEPORTED YOUR HORNLESS ASS INTO MY HIVE. IS THIS WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO BE COY ABOUT? YOU DUMPED ME ON AN ALIEN PLANET AND HAVE THE INEXPLICABLE HOBBY OF TRYING TO GET YOUR FROND STUMPS IN EVERYONE’S PERSONAL LIFE AND I ACTUALLY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOU AND FIGURE OUT HOW YOU OF ALL PEOPLE MANAGED TO GET A HIGHBLOOD MOIRAIL AND-”

Matesprit. He pauses and actually looks taken aback. It is odd to see him momentarily speechless.

“WHAT?” Well that didn’t last.

He was my matesprit.

“AGAIN, WHAT? SO YOU HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE AND ARE WEARING A SIGN THAT HASN’T BEEN USED IN FUCK KNOWS HOW LONG? BEING MUTATED CULLBAIT NOT KILLED BY DRONES AND YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE YOU FILLED A QUAD?”

Quads.

This information seems to break him. You see a familiar crease being to form between his brows. You then pause, trying not to get offended.

Wait, hold on, he has totally accepted you being able to travel time and space, but you filling a quad is too much?

“YOU ARE STILL PUSHING IT WITH TIME. BUT EXCUSE ME IF THROUGH THE PANBOGGLING TALES OF YOUR FUCKING ESCAPADES THROUGH SPACE THAT THEY DON’T EXACTLY FUCKING TRACK ON BEING CONDUSIVE TO FILLING YOUR QUADRANTS.”

Fair. You sigh and tell him the story before he can take a breath because as much as you care about him, this boy has one setting and it is very loud.

You tell him about taking a walk, getting abducted. Saying you were a robot and then revealing you were not in fact a robot. You hesitate during the underground river part as you walk the line between Mallek’s privacy and sating Karkat’s curiosity. You smile recounting getting pushed in the river, saved, and how he called you cute and started blushing and trying to backpeddle. How the two of you hung out later and how he made an account just to talk to you. Karkat seems to soften by a modicum at this.

You laughed at how he showed up to tattoo a stranger just because you asked. You wistfully go through the memories that led to an eventual confession and how beforehand how your moirail Polypa was coaching you and Galekh provided you with literature on quadrants. A true bro move, especially since you don’t know how a conversation on them would have gone. You guessed it was since you helped him with his pitch quad and the tattoo. Maybe he felt like there was already something going on when we were both at his hive in matching hoodies, oh yeah he was the guy who got tattooed. His kismesis was your law partner. Karkat’s brow twitched, incredulous. Yeah you don’t know how Gorgor managed that either. Maybe having an alien alive and working for him on Alternia added to his court cred. You also think that that wasn’t the only part Karkat took issue with, but by some miracle, he lets you keep talking.

You kept expecting him to cut you off but he seemed somewhat enraptured by the tales of your romantic antics, despite his efforts to seem more interested in the you part, you were getting a feeling he was more interested in alien dynamics. You knew he was interested in romcoms so maybe this was just some new material for him, especially since quads were a new thing for you and maybe he has strong thoughts regarding the differences in alien ro-

Oh.

Oh you see why now.

Karkat seemed to pick up on the shift in your storytelling going from your personal life to human romantic customs.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT LOOK FOR?”

What look? There are no looks occurring.

“TRY THAT SHIT ON A MORON WHO JUST HATCHED. THEY MIGHT JUST BE MORE INCLINED TO GLEEFULLY SHOVEL THAT EXCUSE DOWN THEIR CHUTES.” He crossed his arms and squints at you. You knew how sharp his claws were from experience, not that you thought he was going to hurt you. There was just something very endearing about him trying to intimidate you while not subtly trying to glean more information about humans without seeming interested in humans. Or a human. Yeah, this is totally about Dave. You just have to find a way to gracefully skedaddle around that little detail.

I just had a bit of learning curve when dating an alien. So it is totally cool if you don’t know much about human stuff. I know quads can b-

“AND WHY DO YOU THINK I WOULD WANT TO KNOW THAT?” He says this clearly knowing what he thinks you think. You think it would be better if he didn’t think you thinked that, considering how the tips of his ears are turning red. You think.

You have romcom stuff everywhere and seem to really like them? Learning about human stuff might make it easier for you watch human romcoms and see how good or bad they are based on social norms. Kinda like romantic xenoanthropology.

Fucking nailed it. He huffs and rolls his eyes. Or at least enough that your answer plus the sheer amount of not fucking wanting to talk about that got you onto romcoms in general. He seemed to echo Polypa’s taste and you smiled at how animated he was becoming. A few of what you watched were now classics. Others that you didn’t like are prime pitch fodder. It had gotten late (early?) and that led you back to your hive. Just sitting alone and thinking. God you hate self-reflection.

You think of your time with Aradia. How she said you were a little broken. How she said you wouldn’t remember not being able to get to your friends again and being held by whatever the fuck that was. But you did remember, as much as you wish you didn’t. Guess you were more broken than she thought. It would be easier to just think you couldn’t get back because you didn’t try hard enough. But you did, you really did, and no matter what you do you just can’t. You are a shitty meta traveler and an even shittier friend. You thought about trying again but you get the feeling that you can’t access something that longer exists. You’d probably just get stuck in some corner of the universe and be alone all over again until you suffocate.

Can you even really die or be killed in anyway that matters anymore? At least in a way that doesn’t bring up the dull pang of a “bad end” followed by getting slammed dunked back in the past, before your fuck up, by an alarmingly cheerful time goddess?

Yeah, you didn’t think so. That would just add to the conga line of your dead selves letting you know how much of a dumbass you are.

But those people, those times. They don’t exist anymore. You keep thinking back to the way things were and who they were and how you can’t travel to those points anymore. All you have is the relative now and the people who exist now. Mostly.

You finish your terrible, bitter coffee, the cup no longer keeping your hands warm. You deserve this. In some shitty cosmic way, maybe you deserve this for not being better as a friend or partner. You can’t go back to the way things were to only to the people of now. And who even know who or what that even is.

Wait.

Maybe you couldn’t go back to the people they used to be because those were no longer who they were now. That thought sends a pang of hurt through you, imagining what little hope they had crushed. God dammit. But you have to try. Otherwise it is just you babysitting some 13 year olds who are trying to discover themselves and work through their issues with some interdimensional asshole looking over their shoulders. That asshole hopefully just being you.

You put your mug down and stand, closing your eyes, you try to repeat what you did with Aradia again, the memory of them doesn’t work. You know that. But with your new friends, it hasn’t completely been the memory? Maybe more accurate to say it’s them, some part memory sure, but more the idea of the present them, what they look like, who they are. You open your eyes and glance down at the sign on your hood. A sign you have mindlessly traced so many times. A sign that when you forgot it, gave you a dull sense of grief, now that you do remember though, it has sharpened and you are reminded of it whenever you are alone for too long or even slow down. Like the rest of you from other timelines will catch up to you in the current one and you get to experience your failures all over again.

You hold yourself tightly to ground yourself. Self-flagellation won’t get you anywhere, you’ve tried, you know this. So again, you close your eyes. You focus on your hood, the sign on it, the person it belonged to. The Mallek he was when he gave it to you vs. the Mallek he knew he didn’t want to be. The one he would have to be to survive. Your throat tightened at the thought of not being able to find him because he couldn’t do it and what if they got him an-

You slap yourself to stop catastrophizing.

Focus!

Adult trolls get bigger and their horns and claws grow with them. Their skin hardens and darkens as it does. You can’t tell if them molting was a joke someone told you or if they were serious so you don’t think about that part. Their blood color shows more through their eyes as they age. They wear black with their sign incorporated on it when they get spaced. You think back to the cerulean pirate you saw with Konyyl. Something like that. Okay you were getting somewhere. You could tell by how afraid you were to get there. You begin to get a headache, like your mind is a rubber band that you are trying to stretch to fit around something it shouldn’t.

Mallek said he would be a soldier or a spy and would be stuck ordering around lowbloods. No longer able to use his hacker skills how he wanted to. You imagine him, larger, older, more tired. Probably has more piercings and tattoos. You smile a little, despite yourself and the tension you feel continuing to build. He would likely play along, do what he had to do to do what he wanted to do. But at that point what would that even be? You imagine he would never truly stop messing with the system or hacking. His natural curiosity wouldn’t let him so he would be trying… something quietly on the side. He was sympathetic but you didn’t know how deep he would or if he would go down the rebel route, maybe just try to deal with his own corner of the universe.

Going along with what is expected seems to be the easiest way to keep under the radar. He has always been partial to not getting culled. Even when it was just the two of you, you knew it was a conscious effort to let his guard down around you, often requiring a change of scenery with you jokingly asking about if you would be needing goggles. Jokes often broke the tension of being afraid to be known with him.  

Despite his projected cool, you knew he was an anxious person and preferred to be alone. You could see that being warped to fit the expectations of being a cerulean. You remember from  conversations you had early in the morning, with ordeals approaching, you had some rare moments of verbalized vulnerability, of him exasperatedly going over what ceruleans are supposed to be with the unspoken and mutual understanding of what he was actually like. The coolness that he projected could morph into coldness, him wrapping it around himself tighter than any armor the empire would give him. Put some distance between himself and his team. You couldn’t see him being casually cruel, but definitely keeping people away through attitude and fear of his caste. The band tightens. So does your throat.

He hates having people over him and likely would at that start. Probably would be trying to do well so that he could use his performance and caste to be given his own ship and team so he could get some breathing room away from his superiors. Just be another team that does their job without question or issue in order to keep the space around himself. You realize that at some point during this, you started hyperventilating. You consider doing the breathing exercises Konyyl taught you, but at this point, you were tired of trying to be okay about it. You wanted to let it out in some way or another. You wanted to feel.

You thought of you, your disappearance. How that would have impacted him probably trying to find you, keeping himself up more than usual, blaming himself and then being taken off world. The not knowing would upset him the most you think. Would he even want to see you? What if he mattered to you way more than you mattered to him and you just showing up makes things worse? Another pang of guilt hits you for making things harder for another person again and you taste metal. You grit your teeth and refocus. The whole picture might never actually be known to you, but this is likely as close as it gets. You see this in your minds’ eye, the assumed idea of a person who may or may not exist, based off of who they used to be. Was this accurate, would this even do anything? Your hands clench around the hem of your hood and you drop to your knees and your leggings scrape the wood on the floor of your hive, eyes still screwed shut with tears pricking at the corners, breathing quick and heavy, jaw locked.

You try again.

The bands snaps.

And your head hits a cold, metal floor.

#homestuck #hiveswap #friendsim #mspa reader #mallek adalov #hs mallek #mallek x reader #my writing

[space-blue]

Wild West Hunt

Third time I post a story with inner references to previous characters. Hopefully still easy to appreciate outside context.

When James caught up with the man, he was already dead, fallen face first in the thick powder. He had run far, leaving deep bloodstained tracks in the forest snow, never stopping to tend his wounds, heading away from any possible help. James shouldered his rifle and bent down to turn the half-frozen corpse over. As a bounty hunter ten years in the business of tracking down outlaws, James never forgot a face, and yet it was hard to recognise the trapper's features, behind the tumefied wounds, clotted beard and the smears of sweat-streaked grime, all bent and frozen in an anxious grimace.

He sat back on his haunches pondering the mystery before him.

The dead man wore a mix of furs over his woollens, an unstrung bow along his single-shot Remington and a set of large hunting knives. At his hips were several pouches containing the wires and strings necessary to his trade. His rucksack, when James went through it, revealed nothing unexpected beyond a beautiful pistol of French make and its ammunition. But things still made no sense, and so he kept on going through the man's pockets, trying to find an explanation to his behaviour. James had arrived at Iron Rock a week ago, brought up to this outpost in the northern wilderness by information on a couple of murdering brothers he'd been tracking for over a month. He had settled down at the Red Bear Inn, and there seen a profusion of trappers come and go, among them some Frenchmen and Indians, all busy trading. In fact, if Iron Rock ever made it on a map it would be solely thanks to their business. The dead man had been at the inn once, for a night. James had noticed his blue eyes and reddish hair and wondered about his ancestry. The second time he'd seen him was during the fight.

Hearing cries he'd gone out to investigate, hoping for his quarries, and finding instead a mess of trappers busy yelling and exchanging punches. Fights among trappers weren't that uncommon. Neither was murder. Some unprincipled men had noticed that a man skinning a bear was a lot easier to kill than the bear itself, for example. Such men could be hunted down in turn, when their scheme was discovered. James didn't represent the law here–nobody did–and so he had watched, mildly curious, with no intention of intervening unless things turned bloody. As it happened, knives had been drawn so fast, there was nothing he could do. The red-haired man had stood his ground, hugging his wounded guts, bloodied teeth bared, spitting threats at his assailants.

"Ts'all fine," the stabber had yelled from the restraint of his friends' arms, "your Death's comin' soon enough. Been askin' for you!" "What?" "Yeah, one white-haired motherfucker t'was and keen to help get rid o'your bloody–"

But the wounded man had blanched and bolted already, not toward the hut where the fellow who passed as a surgeon lived, but towards the woods. James had followed him to talk some sense into him. An hour into his pursuit, sheer wonder at the man's perseverance and his own obstinacy were what kept him going.

"Aha!" James cried, seeing a leather book held tight by blue fingers, hidden under the dead's stiff coat. "Some clues at last."

The book was thick with yellowing pages filled with a tight script. There were lists of goods, notes of pelts and prices and names, hand-drawn maps and records of journeys and trap locations, but also, to James' surprise, poems, and scattered journal entries. The man was not only literate, he was educated.

"Just who are you?"

At the end, a letter lay folded in oiled paper, ready to yield its secrets. James opened it, both curious and slightly ashamed to invade the dead's privacy so far.

Dear, Beloved Eliza, the letter started, the hand broader and shakier here than in the book. This letter is like the others, but honest, where they were full of lies. It then went on with excuses and prayers for understanding–if not forgiveness–for so long, that James was bracing for nothing short of admission to murder, and skipped ahead: Again I write to delay my return. I have lied to you before about my reasons. Indeed, I was not sick, nor honour bound, in truth I was fleeing. And now, as I feel death breathing on my neck more than ever, I wish for you to know why I never came back after my fortune was made. Why my letters may stop, and why I daren't come home, even were I allowed to grow old.

So, the truth, in all its ugliness. You remember the shootout I mentioned five years ago? My "friend" Armand was not truly well-meaning in involving us. Our interference, under his guidance, was not to help the attacked group, but to finish off both parties and collect the goods the thieves had failed to win. Again, James skipped a large amount of verbal grovelling. To this day I feel the shame of this murderous banditry. At the time we were desperate, and God seems oddly unseeing in these wild lands. Still, I shot a man. He was tall, with stark white hair–but not elderly. His face was unlined, his skin golden brown, yet his features nothing like that of Indians: sharp cheekbones, a finely cut nose as full of character as every courtier dreams of, and eyes the coldest blue! He was a sight, but when he jumped me I fired. He was not elderly, or Indian, no, he was a monster. It took four of us, and many bullets, to take him down. When he fell to the ground, two of our men fell with him, dead on their feet without a wound or an explanation! I too, fell in sudden, inexplicable exhaustion. Armand spooked then, and soon he'd hitched our horses on the carriages and we were off. The riches I told you of were thus taken, not earned. Now dearest, the reason I will not dare come back to you is that it isn't this man's son who wants revenge on me, but the man himself! How you must think me a liar, a thief and now a madman! But it was him truly, same white hair and icy eyes who knew me. At first I ran as if from a ghost. But he shot me, and yelled as I escaped: "I have all the time in the world to find you Samuel Pears! I'll see you soon, I'm on your trail!" The second time, I had already taken to trapping, so I was armed. I shot him square in the chest. The demon laughed! His blood boiled and did not flow! I ran, terrified, but the true horror is that I've seen him since, alive, in Port Harris. His name is Hades, just like the ancient God of Dea–

"For your sake, I hope this is a grocery list."

James started, snapping out of the trance this fantastical letter had put him in, and swivelled towards the voice. But his hand never made it to his rifle, nor his feet to their position. Instead he kept turning, taken by gravity, his muscles freed from the strings of his will. He hit the snow with a gasp. Stepping in front of him was a tall man clad in furs. He pulled his hood back, and snow–no, hair–spilled out to frame a tan face. One white-haired motherfucker. The stranger bent down over powerless James, whose last shreds of energy were spent on keeping his eyes focused. He picked up the letter crumpled in James' fist and straightened, ice-blue eyes running over Pears' last confessions.

"I suppose", the man said, "that I owe you some favour for killing my quarry, though I'd have preferred doing the job myself."

What? No! James thought, panicked. He hadn't even touched Pears. But his voice was as dead as his legs. I too, fell in sudden, inexplicable exhaustion, Pears had written. Was he not a delirious fool then? Did that make the man busy tearing the letter into confetti in front of him his monster?

"Don't look so stricken. I'm in a grateful mood, I'll spare you. This–" the man shook the last pieces of paper into the wind, "you've never read. Nobody would believe you, and antagonising an Immortal isn't wise, as you must understand."

"I– I– didn't ki..."

"Oh, but you did. Pears would have seen you in pursuit and think me on his trail. Which I was, just not caring to be seen. You ran him to his limits, and with him dead, my friends are avenged."

"He r–ran for y–years– H–how could y–"

"This is the Wild West,” he shouted, spreading his arms wide, encompassing the world, “your God may be unseeing, but I, Hades, am not. Nor am I any more forgiving of wrongs done against me or mine.”

~~ March 2018 – Theme : Letters

#original work #original story #competition #fantasy

[mecommentating]

Twilight: Chapters 1-8

I was bored and when I’m bored I read cheesy romance novels. Now seemed as good a time as any to read this series that I’ve heard so much about. 

Basically these are just my thoughts on the novel as I’m reading it. I already know quite a bit about the story so that is heavily effecting my thoughts and predictions. 

Of course there will be spoilers. 

Bella is like a kitten she tries to be intimidating and angry but really she’s just this cute little fluff ball that trips over nothing. It’s hilarious

Edward is just infuriating

Bruh. This guy- He was like you shouldn’t be my friend, stay away from me. Then he goes so do you wanna go to Seattle with me on Saturday? DUDE just stop 

I can’t take this book seriously. The writing’s bad. The characters are bad, the story is meh. But, inexplicably, I love it. It’s so funny. 

Okay. So I know Edward likes her but at this point in the book he has made no indication that his fascination and attraction to her is anything but pure friendliness and curiosity. But she’s like YO HE LIKES ME WHAT DOES THIS MEEEAAAANNN?!?!?!

WHAT THE- DUDE This guuuuuuuuuuuy Come on!  He has repeatedly been like nope we can’t be friends you should avoid me and then he asks her to go to Seattle with him. And then he’s like you should stay away. AND NOW he is sitting alone at lunch makes eye contact with her and then motions her over AND WINKS

He sounds like someone who would trick her into his car and then drive away and rape her. The way he asked her to sit with him sounded terrifying. Of course I can’t actually hear him but that was 100% the vibe I was getting 

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT YOU FRICKING MORON

Edward after Bella questions why he invited her to sit with him for lunch: “I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.”

I’m team anybody but Edward 

Yeah if I didn’t know he was a vampire who has no idea how to handle his emotions I would be terrified that Edward was going to assault Bella

This guy has no idea how to talk to people. I get it he’s in love or whatever but dude stop being creepy

THERE YOU GO AGAIN SAYING THEY CANT BE FRIENDS

This dude is being her friend and when Bella says he’s her friend he’s like WOAH no no no we’re not friends I just like hanging out with you and stuff....

HOW CAN SHE AVOID YOU WHEN YOU’RE DROP DEAD GORGEOUS AND KEEP GOADING HER?

HA she thinks he’s Batman or Spider-Man she can’t decided that’s awesome

Because he can read minds Bella! Just not yours for some reason.

Ooo this boy is hot and he knows it look at him wrapping her around his finger

Edward go shoot your self

Oh my gods Bella. He has literally told you stay away I’m not safe like 10 times and it just now occurred to you that he might be dangerous?!

Ooo look at Edward skipping class how edgy

WHAT KIND OF SCIENCE CLASS HAS ITS STUDENTS PRICK THEIR FINGERS AS PART OF THE ASSIGNMENT?!

ooooh I see why Edward skipped class today

Haha this girl is scared of blood and she’s going to join a vampire clan? That’s a stupid idea.Her fear of blood is like crippling. She almost passed out and is now lying on the sidewalk trying to calm herself down.

How does she handle her period then? That must be a traumatic week...

OF COURSE EDWARD SHOWS UP

This guy just kidnapped her 

Edward I know it’s hilarious but you laughing is just going to piss her off so please let’s avoid a temper tantrum and stop laughing

What the- So Mike (he likes Bella hates Edward I find him annoying) just walks into the nurses office with another guy who fainted when he saw blood and Edward is like Bella get out of the office right now

What is Mike gonna do? What did you read in Mike’s mind, Ed?

Bella is like 2 steps from being a Vampire. She hates the smell of blood. Not the sight of it just the smell. And did she not notice that Edward just referred to her as human as in he’s not

He actually just dragged her to his car. Is nobody else concerned? 

Oh look at that they just bonded over classical music

LOLOLOLOLOLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL  Edward like low key just asked if Bella’s parents would be okay if he married her. You have known her for barely two months you need to calm down lover boy. 

“There are no secrets in Forks.” oh then I guess everyone knows that the best doctor around and all of his family are vampires??

Edward. Shut up. 

Nobody likes you Jessica. Shut up, I don’t want your opinion. 

Okay how does Bella plan on getting out of town with Edward with out her dad and the entire town asking questions. Her truck is loud and distinctive. If she leaves it anywhere in town everyone will know within 5 minutes. And she cant leave it in her drive way because then her dad will get suspicious. AND is she going to take Edward clothing shopping with her?! I see flaws in this plan. 

Do drift wood fires really burn blue? holy frick it does. Whaaaaaaaaaaat. OH it’s also toxic and not safe to burn so um they’re all going to die. 

*gasp* is this when we meet the werewolf people?! Jacob? *mutters* is that his name? 

Haha I knew it

If they’re pretty they’re not human. That is what this book has taught me. 

I like Jacob. He sticks around right?

haha he likes her. Man I wish I could in good conscious ship them. He’s funny, a good talker, attractive, builds cars. What more could she want? But no. She chooses Edward. Which is fine. I assume I’ll eventually like him too. But right now I’m all for Jacob. 

Oh I bet the Cullens don’t come to the beach because of the Blacks. 

NOOOOOO no no no Bella please for the love of god do not try and flirt it will not work and will only end up embarrassing you and me. 

How is this working?

Jacob has got to be pulling her leg or something. There is no way he’d actually be giving away clan secrets like this. 

Looks like he is.  

What an idiot. 

YEAH Vampires! Finally. 

Yeah uh huh be worried Jacob. You just told the biggest secret ever to the one person who is going to believe you. 

Yeeaaaah Team Jacob. Bella stop leading on the better of your two options. Everyone knows you won’t choose him except for him. 

 Listen to your dream. It’s more accurate than you know. 

Her just listening to the same album over and over again is so relatable. 

Believe it Bella. He’s a Vampire. Now go confront him about it. 

Foreshadowing that Edward is from the 18th century? Did he know Jane Austin? 

ha I love her dad. 

Lol Tyler my guy you don’t have a chance. 

OOOOOOH sunlight right. The sparkle or whatever in the sun so they can’t go to school when there’s direct sunlight. I’m so freaking slow. Thanks for explaining, Angela. 

oh no... The dudes have her trapped. Edward is going to show up. I would bet money on it. 

haha silver car that had better be edward- aw that move was smooth as hell- yeah edward! 

Little did you know that Vampires are amazing get away drivers. They can even do fancy driving tricks. If you want a good chauffeur hire a Vampire. 

What’s wrong, Eddy? Why you so mad?

Aw. He got so riled up for her. He really needs to learn to not feel things so strongly but it’s still cute. 

Yeah maybe don’t try and distract him by talking about someone he might see as a threat to your affection for him.  

Dang he’s a good driver. 

lol I haven’t liked Edward at all. He’s annoying, possessive, can’t control his emotions, cocky. Then I find out he’s a good driver and I’m like ooo I like him. I am such an idiot. 

Edward you don’t eat. Why do you want to take Bella out for dinner? That’s just going to be awkward. 

Oh nooooo. Every single person in Forks is going to know that Bella stayed behind with Edward. uuuuugh this is a nightmare. 

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?? This guy has been alive for who knows how long and you’re telling me he has no idea the effect he has on women? He doesn’t know the paralyzing ability his smile has? Bullcrap. 

oh oh oh he’s giving her his jacket oooooh she has fallen forever

oh and he wears turtle necks. I aproooove. Turtle necks are so cool. Idk but I love them. 

Lol I don’t think he thinks she’s human. He knows she’s not a vampire but she does not act like a human. 

NO do not question him Bella. This is a bad idea. I do not advise.

“Let’s call him ‘Joe’“ LOL

OH my GOSSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH 

lol she’s a trouble magnet and it’s the truth

ooo that’s a nice word: Unequivocally

HE WAS FOLLOWING HER?! that’s not creepy at all! 

wait. what?

Ooooh he wanted to kill her the first time they met and yet he didn’t kill her I get it now

Tell her. 

okay calm down buddy Bella is okay everyone is fine you need to take a deep breathe and calm down. 

oh shoot okay going to dinner was a smart idea it kept him from killing people

Why can’t he read her mind? I wanna know. 

#twilight #bella #edward cullen #jacob black #commentary #twilight commentary #team jacob #vampire #werewolf #werewolves #romance novels #cheesy #bored #quarentine

[galahadwilder]

Wingman, Ch. 3: Rememberances

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AO3

Wingman Archive

The roof of the Agreste Mansion was quiet, as it should have been. If you asked any random Parisian what they thought would be going on on that rooftop on that random Paris afternoon, they’d have looked at you funny, before answering, “nothing.” And, on any other day, they’d have been right.

If you’d asked any random Parisian how they thought the confrontation between Hawkmoth and Team Miraculous would have gone down, they’d have answered with expectations of a grand battle, blocks of Paris evacuated, fire and brick dust and destruction the likes of which no Akuma had yet to cause. Or maybe they’d take him by surprise, a single Cataclysm cutting him down before he even knew they were there. Maybe… maybe… maybe…

Nobody would have guessed that, at lunchtime on a day like any other, Hawkmoth and Chat Noir stood not ten feet apart, watching each other, sizing each other up, accompanied by nothing but the fluttering sound of butterfly wings.

Chat Noir couldn't see much of Hawkmoth’s face--to much of it was hidden behind his cowl, unlike Chat’s domino mask that only covered so much. But what he could see was the tightening around the man’s eyes, the way the edges of his mouth twitched downward. He knew his father’s facial expressions well. He didn’t know exactly what was going through the villain’s head right now, but he could make a guess.

“It is you, isn’t it, Father?” Chat said, feeling the anime villain hamminess rising within him. I guess I know where that comes from, he thought. “Behind that mask.”

Hawkmoth’s jaw shifted. His teeth were clenched. It was like everything about Gabriel Agreste--tight, controlled, and yet, Chat could see now, barely containing a seething mass of destructive emotions behind his cold eyes. “Adrien,” Hawkmoth said. “I should have guessed.”

Chat said nothing. For all his planning, he hadn’t actually thought past this moment--he’d been too consumed with the cold rage of knowing that his father had been trying to kill him. He’d brought Hawkmoth up here, and then… what? Ladybug was the planner, not him.

Adrien, on the other hand, knew how to improvise. “You want my Miraculous,” he said. “Why? You have everything you could ever want.” He spread his arms, gesturing down to the four-story mansion below them. “What could be so important to you that you’re willing to kill me for it?”

Hawkmoth stared at him for a moment, his eye twitching. “How dare you?” he whispered. His voice began to rise.“Everything I have done--everything--has been for this family!”

“Really?” Chat said, stepping forward. “Cause, you know, this is a great way to show you care! Never come to my fencing meets, never eating meals with me, never even bothering to get me a goddamn birthday present, but oh, having angsty teenagers throw me headfirst through brick walls is what I really wanted for Christmas, so thanks, Dad!”

Hawkmoth stomped forward, leaving his cloud of butterflies behind as he snatched Chat by the lapel of his suit. “You know nothing of what I’ve sacrificed!” he yelled. “What I’ve lost! What I’ve done for you!”

Chat gritted his teeth, thrusting his face into his father’s. “If you’re so intent on being this,” he hissed, “then why don’t you just kill me.”

Hawkmoth stared ice into Chat’s eyes, and for a moment, Adrien feared that his father was actually going to do it. But then he did something unexpected and inexplicable, something Adrien had never before seen his father do.

Hawkmoth began to cry.

***

“I don’t even know what you think you’re doing out there!” Gabriel ranted, pacing up and down his office. Adrien had never seen him this vocally angry. “It’s dangerous… you could have died!”

“I did,” Adrien said, softly.

This brought Gabriel up short. “You… what?” he stammered.

Adrien met his father’s eyes. “Remember Timebreaker? When there were two of them?”

Gabriel swallowed. “Oh god…”

“Ladybug told me afterward. The first one killed me. That’s how she came back. How they came back.”

Gabriel collapsed against his desk. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.” He put a fist to his mouth. “Adrien. My son. I’m so–” he choked. “I’m so sorry.”

Adrien sat, silent, frozen. He didn’t know how to react to this. He’d never seen his father break down like this, not since… not since his mother disappeared.

“So… I like the suit,” Adrien said, trying to divert his father’s attention. “Very classy. Bit ostentatious though?”

Gabriel wiped his eyes and smiled for the first time that Adrien could remember seeing in over a year. “Your mother’s design,” he said. “She always was the better designer. I was… privileged to have gotten to work with her.” He spun open the safe, the one Adrien had already found. “I take it you were the one who stole the book from the safe?”

Adrien nodded.

“Do you still have it?”

He looked away. “I… lost it. Sorry.”

Gabriel sighed. “Can’t be helped.” He removed something from the safe and placed it on his desk--a porcelain fan, almost like a peacock’s tail. “I was going to give you this when I thought you were ready, but… you already have your own, so…”

Adrien gaped. “Wait, is that…”

Gabriel nodded, sitting down behind the desk and steepling his fingers. “Your mother’s Miraculous,” he said.

Adrien lifted it slowly, reverently, watching the light from the window play across the glass-and-porcelain structure of the magical piece of jewelry. It was different from every other Miraculous he’d seen--his ring and Ladybug’s earrings were simple, minimalistic, functional; while his father’s broach was more ostentatious, it had nothing on this. The fan he held in his arms was nothing less than a piece of art, absolutely beautiful and… heartbreaking.

His father had never had the heart to remove his mother’s clothes from their shared closet. Was this how he felt every morning, looking at the detritus of her life?

He placed the jeweled fan back on the desk as gently as he could. “Mom didn’t die in a car accident, did she?” he said, his eyes glued to the Miraculous.

Gabriel shook his head. “No,” he said. “She bled out as Paon, and I couldn’t save her.” His voice went cold, emotionless, in the way that Adrien knew meant he was bottling up his grief again. He held up the butterfly broach, gazing at the gray stone set in its center. “The Butterfly is powerful, but the power of healing is reserved for Ladybug alone. No Akuma can ever possess it.”

Adrien swallowed. “But you can see through the eyes of the Akuma…”

Gabriel nodded. “I had to watch.” He adjusted his glasses. "After Queen Bee died--”

“Queen Bee?”

“Yes. Chloé’s mother was a Miraculous holder as well, she was part of our team. After she died in battle, we… your mother and I… decided that it would be safer to give up the superhero life. Or at least, I did.” Gabriel’s shoulders slumped. “She could never quite give it up.”

It was like losing her all over again. Discovering he'd never really known his mother, learning about this side of her, and learning how she'd truly died…

“Wait,” Adrien said. “If you wanted out… why the whole supervillain… thing?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Gabriel said. “I'm trying to bring your mother back.”

Wingman Archive

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#wingman #my fic #original content #miraculous ladybug #gabriel agreste #adrien agreste #chat noir #hawkmoth #identity reveal #fanfic #fanfiction #ml fanfic #crack #angst

[trashmenace]

In a Dark Place

In a Dark Place

by Ray Garton (ghostwriting for Ed and Lorraine Warren and Carmen Snedeker)

Villard 1992

In a Dark Place is a fiction novel.  By that I don't mean the events described didn't happen (we'll get to that), that's what format the writing is.  Other than the intro and epilogue, the book is written as a full fictional narrative, with interior monologues, descriptions of facial movements, etc.  At best it's "based on a true story".

The story is based on the Snedeker family, who move into a converted former mortuary to be closer to their son's medical providers.  The son has cancer, Mom is stressed out by apartment hunting, Dad has a long commute and is drinking too much.  Son starts hanging around with bad company, starts listening to heavy metal, wearing the t-shirts, reading the magazines.

All the while mysterious goings-on go on.  Things that can't possibly be explained, like how a whole case of soda can disappear in a home full of kids.  Then things start to get real when the son molests the girls in their sleep.

Junior gets arrested, gets locked up in juvi, is diagnosed with schizophrenia, and pretty much disappears from the rest of the book.  There's a hint that demons influenced the youngster, but Garton goes out of his way to drop a line about him definitely being organically disturbed.

Then came the butt raping.  Both parents were repeatedly raped by invisible ghost penises.  Eventually they got the help of Ed and Lorraine Warren, who investigated and held an exorcism on the house.  They psychically determine that the house is possessed by demons, who came into the house when the former undertaker molested the corpses.

The book serves a very specific fetish of alternating rape scenes with bible readings, until eventually they they read bible verses during the rapes.  Demons pretend to be the souls of the molested corpses and repeatedly proclaim how much they loved "all the sucking and f*cking".  The house gets exorcised, the end

Taken as fiction it's a sleazy, nasty piece of work.  More sex than horror.  As far as the "based on a true story" bit goes, I don't know what happened at the Snedeker house, but I have no reason to believe that any of this happened.  The book has been disowned by both Ray Garton and the Snedekers.  The Warrens didn't seem to have a problem with it, as the book is in their name and remained in print.

The only claims I've seen directly from the Snedekers come from this appearance on Sally Jesse Raphael on October 30th, 1992, three days after the book was published (though likely recorded earlier)  

The story is different here, with mysterious ghost hands replacing actual teenage metalhead hands doing some of the molesting, and the girls changing from family friends to nieces.  The Snedekers were here promoting the book, but later disowned it as inaccurate.  The author Ray Garton says the Snedekers couldn't keep their story straight and Earl Warren told him to make it up and make it scary, along with some other allegations.

The same story later became the basis of the inexplicably popular The Haunting in Connecticut, and the fictional Warrens became the centerpiece of the billion dollar Conjuring franchise.  The fictional Earl Warren is some kind of Christ figure, while the real life one is an obvious bullying conman.

Nobody comes away looking good.  All the parties either can't keep their story straight or don't mind promoting a book full of falsehoods.  The Snedekers come across worse if the house actually was possessed.  In the book they say they stayed in a house where everyone was ghost raped because they were sick of house hunting and maybe something about Jesus.  In the Sally version, they were afraid that if they moved the demons would follow them because weird things happened at work.  This contradicts the book, as well as not making any sense that they wouldn't even try getting the kids out of the house.

The most distasteful thing for me was how the Snedekers disclosed their son's mental health history and juvenile criminal history - they at least used a pseudonym in the book, but then revealed his name in the promotion.

Ray Garton is at least a professional fictioneer and he's expressed his distaste for the enterprise.  In this Monstertalk interview he says it was "the lowest point in my career, and I wrote the novelization for Good Burger."

#book review

[maya-tl]

Slice of Life

Author's Note: This fic is inspired by @altruistic-skittles and their Slice of Life Sanders Sides AU, which can be found here. All worldbuilding credit goes to them, I only stitched the ideas together in writing.

Author's Note #2: Due to Tumblr restrictions, the story was split into three chapters. Next chapter will be posted on Sunday.

Honorary mentions: Keep your eyes peeled for @themicrosoftnerd and @crofters-jam , who make an appearance in this chapter!

Shoutout to Toby, who is part of the AU but sadly doesn't get a mention in the story.

This work will also be posted to Ao3 in the near future.

Link to my Ao3 profile will be at the end! Tag list will be in the replies! Enjoy!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

***

"Virgil~"

It's barely above a whisper, but he groans anyway and sinks into the pillow like dead weight. He swears he hears someone giggle just above him and he feels warmth through his chest.

"Virgil, honey," he feels a hand on his shoulder that gives it more of a gentle nudge than a shake, "get up. You'll miss breakfast."

The prospect of waking up just makes him settle down even deeper under the comfy blankets.

Truth be told his brain had probably kicked into gear a good while ago, but once the dreaded feeling of expectation that his alarm would be blaring into his ears any minute had passed without coming to fruition, he hadn't questioned any of it and simply gone back to sleep.

He doesn't know if he's actually gotten any rest since, but the fact that his mind is a foggy blank space probably alludes to a yes.

The mattress dips beside him and the hand on his shoulder resumes its shaking—definitely a shake this time.

"Viiirgiiil~" they say, stretching the word like it's a song lyric, and he can hear the smile in their voice even through his sleep clouded mind. "Wakey wakey, sleepyhead~"

He groans again—though it comes out more like a whine—and tries to wiggle out of the hand's reach. There's another giggle, and this time he grudgingly opens his eyes just enough to muster a glare, but even that's half-hearted and reduced useless when the offending figure leans down and plants a kiss on the tip of his nose.

He laughs softly, reaches up to rub at his eyes, and the steady warmth in his chest flares when the source of said warmth laughs back, beautiful and genuine and music to his ears even after nearly two decades of hearing it every day.

"Five more minutes?" he tries, raspy with morning voice, but even as he's saying it he's already sitting up and stretching his stiff muscles.

His answer is a peck on the cheek this time, and he can see Patton's entire face break into a smile out the corner of his eye when he leans into the touch.

That reminds him, their anniversary's coming up. He makes a mental note to get something ready in advance, even if that won't be for a few months now.

"What time is it...?" he mumbles and reaches for his phone, effectively draping himself across the bed.

"Kids are already up and about." Patton offers as he rises from the bed and goes to open the curtains.

"Wow, I outlasted Roman's beauty sleep? That's a first." he squints through the sudden flood of light and gapes at his phone screen until he's sure his eyes might roll out of their sockets. "Breakfast?? Pat, it's nearly noon."

Patton gives him a sheepish look, though his smile doesn't falter. "Brunch then? We've all had breakfast except for you and Ro—Lolo and I already had pancakes. Roman thought I batter go wake you before you turned into Sleeping Beauty—"

He snorts, both at the pun and the implication; sounds like his eldest alright.

"—and he wanted to make his own breakfast. I'll go get some leftovers ready for you, yeah?"

"If there are any leftovers..." he mumbles under his breath, before it's silenced by another kiss.

"You know Roman is too worried about his physique for that and Logan doesn't approve of pancakes in the morning. I barely got him to eat his share." Patton smiles, and it's crooked and beautiful and the sunlight beaming through the windows brings out his freckles and Virgil gets this inexplicable urge to kiss every single one of them. "Take your time getting ready, you haven't been sleeping much for the past week and I don't want you falling asleep at the table again."

He chuckles, standing up and stretching some more; he can hear the birds chirping downstairs when Patton opens the door on his way out.

Someone that sounds suspiciously like his son is talking more loudly than is necessary on the phone and he swears it's a habit he only picked up after they moved; he must've stayed up late and gotten friendly with that Remy kid at some point, because Virgil knows his 'beauty sleep' is more of an excuse to sleep in rather than an actual concern with beauty.

On second thought, knowing Roman, it's probably both.

"Oh! I almost forgot," he hears his husband, who sounds like he's halfway down the stairs, "Thomas told me yesterday that his car broke down!"

Again? He should probably ask Emile for some lucky crystals or whatever he's into these days, their soft-hearted neighbour could sure use it. That man has such a knack for trouble that sometimes Virgil finds himself wondering how he hasn't burned down his house yet.

Would be a shame too, apparently it's been in the family for generations.

"Do you mind if I drive them to the theatre today? Ro agreed to extra practice hours and his whole group of friends wants to come see how the big play's coming along!!"

Of course he did, and of course they do.

"Nah, I'll do it." he says, even though that's the last thing he wants to do today. Not that his other options are much more exciting; he mostly just feels like sleeping the whole day through. "I've got a shift in about three hours anyway, might as well waste a bit of gas."

"You're working? I thought you had weekends free??"

He pulls out some sweats and a simple black T and heads to the bathroom to turn on the shower. His work clothes are already laid out for once, look at him being productive.

"It's just a small shift, Pat, I took it up so I could have less overtime, it's a compromise."

He can hear the underlying tone beneath the innocent question, the silent implication that if his boss is screwing him over Patton can and will physically fight them, because for all his fun loving self he's also dreadfully overprotective.

He knows Patton's not convinced, but he's also learned that Patton still puts a lot more trust in him than he ever expects to receive, and just like that Virgil suddenly feels an overwhelming sense of belonging.

He loves this kind, beautiful, incredible, perfect man that he shares his life with so much he vaguely wonders if he's legally, ethically and morally allowed to marry him again.

Patton laughs again, and so does Virgil when he realizes he's spoken out loud.

How did he ever get so lucky?

***

Patton walks in on the sight of his eldest son pacing a hole into the kitchen floor, a piece of toast in one hand and a bunch of disorderly papers in the other, with his phone squished between his shoulder and his ear.

"Right?! I would make for a brilliant prince!!" he tries to get out between a mouthful of toast and jam, flailing the papers around like they were the ones who didn't give him the part. "Thomas is totally underestimating my incredible acting skills, the audition I gave was practically flawless!!"

"Or perhaps your ego has finally rendered all your other brain functions useless and you are living under the misguided assumption that you are better than anyone at everything you do."

"Nobody asked you to speak, Microsoft Nerd!"

Logan doesn't even lift his eyes from the book he's reading. As a matter of fact he flips the page over, looking utterly and purposefully disinterested in the tantrum of his older brother, who is currently at risk of choking on his food if the fact that his entire face looks like it's gotten sunburn is any indication.

"No, but you are yelling rather loudly and I am trying to enioy a quiet morning lecture." he adds, manoeuvring his cup from its place on the table to take a sip of tea without breaking the narrative he's currently engrossed in. "Not that anyone ever gets any peace and quiet in this household when you're home."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Play nice, kiddos." Patton chides as he walks in, opening the fridge to take out a rather large stack of pancakes and some orange juice. "And Roman, quit talking with your mouth full."

Roman quietly mutters something like 'gimme a sec Val' before dropping the papers—which Patton assumes are pages of his current script if the neon highlighter marks he catches a glimpse of are anything to go by—into a messy pile on the counter, a tactful distance from the sink.

He even makes a show of swallowing to prove that he's not in any life threatening situation before propping the phone right back to his ear.

"Sorry, my dumb brother interrupted me—"

"I'm not the one actively trying to fail math after the semester's hardly begun." there's suddenly a definite edge to Logan's tone and he's giving his brother a stare so cold it's a wonder his head doesn't turn into a block of ice.

Patton knows that tone; if there's anything his little Lolo is insecure about it's his intelligence, no matter how many times he or Virgil assure him that he's not only the smartest one in the family but also one of the smartest in his school. A work friend of Virgil's they invited over once even called him a prodigy, and that must mean something coming from a therapist.

Unfortunately, Roman's impulse of speaking with absolutely no filter is just as immovable, which means their children have raised the term of sibling rivalry to a whole new level.

Patton decides to stop the argument before it's begun.

"Boys." they clamp their mouths shut immediately, as he knew they would, but he places his hands on his hips just for a little more authority. "What did I just say?"

'Play nice?' Roman more asks than answers at the same time that Logan lets out a tight 'Play nice.'

"Now, what's the right thing to do?"

They sigh in tandem and speak together. "Sorry dad." When he gives them a pointed look they share a glance and give in, both their shoulders dropping the tension simultaneously.

"I'm sorry I called you dumb, I didn't actually mean it..." there's genuine emotion in most of his eldest's apologies, because most of the time he really does blurt out his first thought without considering it and realizes it when his head's in the clear.

"I didn't mean to undermine your creative skills or make you feel inadequate in any way." his youngest is not the most in touch with emotions, but he is smart enough to know when an apology is in order and to differ between a sincere and insincere one.

He gives them a nod of approval and goes back to putting together a late breakfast, plopping the pancakes into the microwave and reaching into a cupboard for a clean glass. Logan likewise resumes his reading as if nothing had happened; Roman is the only one who settles down, picking up his conversation at a more acceptable volume.

As the pancakes are heating up he opens another cupboard door and frowns.

"Have any of you seen the honey?"

"Mhm?" Roman glances over as he chews around another mouthful of toast with too much jam on it. "Oh, it's over there."

Patton turns to the area he'd vaguely gestured to and spots the bee shaped bottle peeking out from behind a very familiar jar of jelly, both items that have long become staples in the kitchen due to Logan's surprising demands. The cap of the jar is undone, and as he swiftly puts it back on his dad reflexes kick in before he can think better of it.

"Who left the jar open?"

The microwave decides to beep at the same moment that Roman abruptly freezes, sticky fingers in his mouth, and he immediately turns to his brother. Logan puts it together in a matter of nanoseconds and practically leaps out of his seat, book tumbling off his lap.

"Is that my Crofter's?!?"

Seeing that not even his acting skills can provide an escape, Roman spreads his arms in a shrug. "Uh, do you own the company?"

It's difficult to get Logan truly riled up, but Roman does have a habit of biting off more than he can chew. Literally this time.

"You know it's family owned—that's not the point, Roman, it's my food!!"

"Oh come on, you have like fifty jars, you can share."

"You didn't even ask me if I'm willing to share!!"

"I was hungry!!!"

"Dad!!!"

Patton manages to suppress a sigh, but only just. He shoves his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his nose for the briefest moments.

Honestly, he loves his children unconditionally, but sometimes, on occasion—and he would never in a million years ever admit this to anyone except maybe Virgil—sometimes he loves them a lot more when they're in separate rooms.

On separate floors.

With their doors closed.

***

My Ao3 profile.

#my_writing #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #anxiety sanders #morality sanders #logic sanders #creativity sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #moxiety #romantic moxiety #platonic lamp #familial lamp #slice of life au #emile picani

[destielfluffnstuff]

[Destiel Fic] An Angel’s Guide to the Care and Feeding of Humans

Summary:

Angels refer to their kept humans as ‘pets,’ not because they behave like animals, but simply because there is a natural power imbalance between an angel and a human.

Castiel is an expert on the keeping of humans, and he takes great pride in taking excellent care of his pet, Dean. He insists on lots of cuddles.

Dean learns he’s a natural pet, fully devoted to his angel. And maybe in love with him, too.

Categories: Fluff, light D/s, sfw, first kiss, alternate universe Characters: Dean Winchester/Castiel Words: 3,001 Rating: PG (future parts may be explicit) Tags: Pet!Dean (but still human, no animal behavior), naturally submissive!Dean, dominant!Cas, petting, cuddles, cuteness, happy fic, no spoilers

—————

Growing up, Dean had never expected to become a pet. His father had never liked angels, so he’d rarely gotten close to one. But he’d seen them, often with a human pet in tow. At first glance they looked like any other random people on the street. But if you looked at an angel long enough you could start to feel the power radiating off of them. And their human pets always seems very focused and attentive to to that power.

As he got older he learned a little more about the unique relationship between an angel and a human. Some were platonic, some were quite paternalistic. Some were romantic in nature. But always the angel looked after the human, provided for their needs. Angels seemed to take great pleasure in making their pets happy.

Dean always thought ‘pets’ was a slightly derogatory term. Until he became a pet himself, at which point he couldn’t deny how cleanly it outlined his relationship with his angel. Dean was completely devoted to him. And his angel did everything in his power to make him happy. And nobody could deny the natural power imbalance between an angel and a human, much as there was between humans and their own pets.

Dean knew a lot about how angels viewed their relationships with their pets. His angel Castiel literally wrote a book on it. Sometimes when Cas was gone Dean liked to curl up with the book, remembering all the care and love that went into writing it, and the story behind it.

He decided that was just what he needed tonight, so he collected a beer from the fridge and grabbed the book from the shelf, flipping it over to admire the cover. It was a slightly abstract painting of an angel, wings wrapped protectively around a human. If you squinted, it kind of looked like Cas and Dean. The title read, An Angel’s Guide to the Care and Feeding of Humans, by Castiel Novak.

Dean flopped down on the couch, set down his beer and pulled a blanket up over his bare feet. He flipped open the book to the first chapter.

Acquiring A Pet Human

The bond between an angel and a human is very powerful, and very special. It cannot arise between just any random pair. It is crucial that you look for a human that needs you, a human who will benefit from your care. And of course, they must willingly agree to become your pet. But most of all, you should wait until you find that very special human, with whom the bond will be strong. You will know them when you see them, this is an instinct all angels possess.

Six years ago

Dean sat on a park bench, head in his hands. What the hell was he going to do? He was barely nineteen years old, only had a super part time job down at the shop, and only his car and a bag of clothes to his name.

His dad had kicked him out of the house that morning, after he’d caught him in bed with a guy. And of course it was just a nameless one night stand, not at all worth becoming homeless for.

“Are you okay?”

Dean looked up, and his breath caught when he saw the handsome angel standing in front of him. He could nearly see the power radiating off of him, he’d never been able to sense it so clearly in another before.

“May I join you?” the dark haired angel gestured to the bench.

Dean dumbly nodded, inexplicably drawn in.

“Thank you.” The angel sat, regarding Dean carefully with his bright blue eyes. “My name is Castiel. I’m afraid I couldn’t help but notice that you are in distress.”

“My dad kicked me out,” Dean said, spilling without thought. Somehow he knew he could trust Castiel. “He’s a homophobic prick and he caught me in bed with a guy.”

Castiel nodded. “So you need a place to stay.” He considered Dean carefully. “I would be happy to put you up in a hotel until you can get back on your feet.”

Dean was disappointed, but he wasn’t sure why. “That would be very nice of you.”

“Alternatively…” Castiel was still studying Dean, choosing his words carefully. “I have been hoping to acquire a pet. And somehow I can tell that I would cherish you greatly. If you would like to be my pet, I’d be honored to own you.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “W-what? Me?” His heart was racing. “I… I don’t know, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a… a pet…” He could barely get the word out. His face pinked just thinking about it.

Castiel studied Dean carefully. “You would make a wonderful and devoted pet,” he said, confident in his assessment. “I can see your natural instincts clearly. However, you must want this, or else our bond will not form. So it is your choice to make.”

Dean’s stomach flipped. He tried to imagine living as an angel’s pet, to be protected and cherished. Suddenly, faced with kind blue eyes, it seemed like the only thing Dean could ever need.

Castiel smiled warmly, reaching out to gently run his fingers through Dean’s hair. “What do you think? Will you be my pet?”

Dean shivered and leaned into the touch without thought. “Yes.”

Housing Your New Pet

Most pets have a naturally submissive nature, but they still thrive under a sense of autonomy. Give them their own space, so they can choose to come to you for affection.

“Welcome home,” Castiel said, laying a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder as he guided him into his penthouse apartment. “I’m afraid I didn’t expect to find you today, so I haven’t done much to prepare. But you may have the guest room all to yourself, and fix it up any way you want.”

Dean nodded, not speaking as he looked around the place. A little voice told him this was better than being homeless. Another voice was thrilled to be accepted by an angel. It was all a little overwhelming.

“Everything will be all right,” Castiel said, reaching out to stroke Dean’s hair again.

Dean relaxed under the touch, almost as if by the angel’s will. He wondered if this was the whole bond thing he’d read about. The connection between an angel and their human.

He supposed he was going to find out.

Praise and affection

Pets thrive on affection and positive reinforcement. Praising them for even the smallest things will make them glow with pride. And do not skimp on pets and cuddles, few pets can be happy without an abundance of physical contact.

Dean was in the kitchen, putting the clean dishes away in the cupboard. He hadn’t lived with Castiel very long, but he’d learn that the angel was tidy, and he appreciated Dean’s efforts keeping things clean. Just as he put the last cup away, he heard Cas call from the living room.

“Come here please, Dean.”

Dean was happy to do so. It was so silly, but he had this little driving need to please his angel. He didn’t really understand it yet.

Cas smiled at him and patted the seat next to him on the couch. “Join me, please.”

Dean sat down next to Castiel, watching him curiously, waiting patiently. He wasn’t surprised when he reached out to pet Dean’s hair, he just leaned into it.

“Thank you for putting the dishes away,” Castiel said, smiling softly, still playing with Dean’s hair. “I really appreciate you, Dean.”

Dean blushed faintly. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I know we’re still getting to know each other,” Castiel said, watching Dean carefully. “I’d very much like to hold you. Would you be comfortable with that?”

Dean’s eyes grew a little wide, but he nodded, already leaning closer to Castiel.

Cas smiled warmly and pulled Dean into his chest, wrapping his arms around the younger man. “My good Dean.”

Dean smiled and hid his warm cheeks in Castiel’s chest.

Do Pets Need Employment?

While they obviously have no financial need of a job after bonding with an angel, some humans find employment gives them a sense of self worth. If they enjoy their work, it’s best to allow them to continue it. But for their health and happiness, you may want to insist on part time hours. Too many hours away from you, their angel, can make a pet unhappy.

Dean was exhausted as he took off his shoes at the front door—Cas preferred he go barefoot in the house. He stripped off his jacket and hung it up, leaving him in just his teeshirt and jeans.

He made a beeline for the couch and Castiel.

Castiel frowned when he saw him coming, clearly sensing his exhaustion. “My sweet pet, come here,” he said, opening his arms for Dean.

Dean eagerly burrowed into Castiel’s arms, no longer too shy to go straight to a full on cuddle. He dropped his face to his angel’s chest and let himself be pulled down so they could stretch out on the couch together.

“Missed you,” Dean muttered. “Don’t like being apart so much.”

The bond made Dean blurt out stuff he’d usually never say. Especially sappy crap.

“I missed you too, Dean,” Castiel said, still frowning. He considered Dean for a moment. “I think you’re working too much, pet. I want you to talk to Bobby, tell him your angel doesn’t want you working more than 20 hours a week.”

Dean opened his mouth to object, but realized that was actually a wonderful idea. And if it was his angel that said so, Bobby couldn’t argue. He’d know Dean had to do as his angel wanted. “Yes, Cas. That would be great.” Dean let out a soft sigh, knowing full well he was going to fall asleep on Cas tonight.

Feeding Your Human

Humans require a varied diet, see my full glossary of recommended foods in the back. They also very much enjoy indulging themselves with treats, for instance, my pet loves beer and burgers. Try not to spoil them too much, moderation is good for your pet’s health. Meals are also a very important social element for humans, do not neglect them.

Dean couldn’t help the little groan as he bit into his burger. “God Cas, you spoil me,” he said, smiling at his angel before taking a sip of the beer that went with his meal.

“Anything for my favorite pet,” Castiel said, smiling fondly. He didn’t eat much himself, but he always made a point to have dinner with Dean. And he clearly was enjoying his own burger.

Dean laughed. “I’m your only pet,” he said, grinning at Cas.

Funny how Dean could call himself that now, and not even think twice about it.

“My one and only,” Castiel agreed, blue eyes sparkling.

Under the table their ankles were gently resting together. Dean was now quite accustomed to the regular physical contact Castiel insisted on.

It was actually really nice.

Socializing Your Pet

It is very easy for both you and your pet to become wrapped up in each other, nearly to the point where you forget all else exists. But it is important to encourage your pet to maintain the friendships from before your bond. It will make your pet happy. Although they may be nervous about other humans passing judgement on your bond, so you may have to insist.

“But does he have to come over here?” Dean whined, pacing nervously through the living room. “I could just go meet him at a coffee shop or some shit. He doesn’t have to come into our nest.”

Castiel smiled fondly, crossing the room to take Dean in his arms. “It pleases me that you’re finally comfortable enough with our bond to call our home by it’s proper name.”

Dean blushed faintly. “Thanks Cas…” The angel had been gently encouraging Dean to call the apartment their ‘nest’ for the last several weeks. It felt right, it was just so damned intimate, it had taken Dean a while to get comfortable with the word.

“I want to meet your brother,” Cas said, running his hand gently up and down Dean’s back. “Because he’s important to you, and you’re important to me. And I think it’s important that he sees you for who you are. I’m hoping you’ll eventually let go of the embarrassment our closeness makes you feel.”

Dean ducked his head to Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, angel.”

Castiel held him close. “It’s okay, pet.”

Overcoming Human Bigotry

We all know that human pets are a tradition going back several millennia. For our kind, it is perfectly natural and quite common. It is important to remember that humans don’t all have the same perspective. Some humans see it as a great honor, others hold a more negative view. So keep in mind that your pet may be nervous about how they will be perceived by other humans, now that they are a bonded pet. They may need a gentle push (or several) to become more comfortable.

Dean followed Castiel through the market, the angel leading him by the hand. He tried to tune out the looks they always got, instead just focusing on the bond, letting himself take pleasure in pleasing his angel. It was easy, as all Castiel wanted was his company.

Castiel stopped at his favorite booth, the local honey farm. He tugged on Dean’s hand, bringing him in close until their shoulders pressed together. “What do you want, Dean?”

Dean noticed how the woman behind the table watched them curiously. “A cinnamon honey stick, please.”

“Of course, pet,” Castiel said, letting go of Dean’s hand to retrieve his wallet, buying the treat for Dean.

Dean smiled softly when Castiel took his hand again, leading him over to a nearby bench. They sat down together, and Castiel offered over the promised treat.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, smiling as he popped open the straw and sucked down the flavored honey.

“Anything for my dear pet,” Castiel said, pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple.

Dean beamed.

Developing Romantic Feelings

Not all bonds become romantic, however if yours does, you may find yourself feeling increased feelings of affection toward your pet. If you do, it is perfectly natural to take things to the next level, as long as your pet reciprocates. Tread very carefully here, as your pet will want to please you, so you’ll have to be certain they’re not simply accepting your advances to make you happy. It is best to wait for them to come to you. Fortunately, due to the nature of the bond, it is rare to have an instance where such feelings aren’t mutual.

Dean was on edge because Castiel was on edge. Stupid bond. Usually it was happy feelings moving back and forth between them. But the last few days Cas had been anxious, keeping Dean at a distance.

Dean was worried that Cas had figured out his secret. That he realized Dean was falling for him, but didn’t return the feelings. Maybe he was trying to break the bond and get rid of Dean, so he could find a human who wasn’t dumb enough to fall in love.

He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t live without Cas, he’d stifle his feelings if he had to. He’d make it work.

Cas was sitting on the couch, and Dean bit his lip, slipping into his usual spot next to him. He let out a relieved sigh when the angel’s arm came around him automatically, and Dean leaned into the strong chest.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean said, words starting to tumble out. He hid his face in Castiel’s neck, not able to look at him. “I know you’re upset with me, but I promise I can be better. I’ll do a better job of hiding it, I swear.”

“Hide what, Dean?” Castiel asked, voice soft and controlled.

“My feelings for you,” Dean said, feeling miserable. Even now he couldn’t lie to his angel. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen. You’re just so wonderful…” Oh jeez, his dumb mouth was just going to spill all over the place.

Castiel cupped Dean’s chin and forced him to look up. He was grinning and his eyes were sparkling with joy. “Oh Dean. I was only trying to make sure you felt the same way. I love you, too.”

Dean’s heart leapt. “You do?”

Castiel replied with a firm kiss.

—————

Present day

Dean had just flipped to When Your Pet Becomes Your Mate when he heard the flutter of Castiel’s wings, and his heart jumped when his angel appeared in front of him.

“Cas!” Dean tossed the book aside and leapt to his feet, throwing himself into his angel’s arms. “I missed you so much!”

Castiel chuckled, wrapping strong arms around Dean. “I was only gone for a few hours, pet.” His fingers carded gently through Dean’s hair.

“I know,” Dean mumbled, face pressed to Castiel’s neck. “It just always feels really long.”

Dean had skipped the chapter on separation anxiety. It was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need to be reminded.

“Come on,” Castiel said, tugging him back down to the couch. “You need cuddles.”

Dean definitely needed cuddles. He eagerly snuggled into Castiel’s chest, letting the angel stretch out and hold him close.

Castiel picked up his discarded book, smiling at Dean. “Were you reading my book again?”

Dean smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did you make it to The Sexual Needs of Humans?” Castiel asked, eyes twinkling.

Dean’s stomach flipped and he grinned. “No, will you read it to me? It’s my favorite chapter.”

Castiel laughed. “I know it is, pet.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Yes, I will read it to you. I would do anything for you, my love.”

Dean beamed up at Castiel. “I know.”

[Thanks for reading! Also on AO3.]

#Destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel fic #Destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #deancas #sub!dean #dom!cas #pet!dean #My destiel fic #cuddles #light d/s #petting #cute #cuteness

[bigskydreaming]

antifamutantdown replied to your post:

Thanks to a friend I got my grubby little hands on...

Kalen… You must review the rest I can’t do this anymore

So far the only other ones I’ve read are X-Men #1 and Marauders #1, and I have very little thoughts on them!

My X-Men #1 thoughts can be summed up as cool space house, Krakoan dish soap is neat idea but also gross, we don’t need to see that, why is Havok there, why is Havok anywhere, die Havok die, yay Gabe! Its so weird that I like megalomaniacal actually canon despot and father killer Gabriel Summers better than Alex but like, in his defense Corsair is a shitty father, the Shi’ar Empire is a shitty empire, and like, spending a decade entombed on an asteroid while Xavier mindwipes everyone into forgetting you ever even existed would make anyone cranky, also like, could be worse, at least he’s not Alex. But also, why is he talking like that, its so weird and unnecessary, and also also, I do need SOME context for why he’s suddenly bbq-ing on the moon with his brothers and dad like he never once flambeed said dad like he’s currently searing those steaks, like....did he just Get Over Everything or did Xavier give him a homicidal-otomy before sticking his consciousness back in a shiny new body? I need answers! 

But also lolol at him trolling Logan, even if it was in that weird ‘yo, Shakespeare’s dead, we don’t have to talk like this anymore’ kinda way. But also, Teen Cable calling Scott Dad and Jean Mom and asking them if he can trade guns with Raza and finally getting a chance to be parented the way Cable’s always deserved IS MY EVERYTHING, WHY AM I SO WEAK, and him and Rachel getting to be actual siblings and them all FINALLY having a chance to be an actual, somewhat normal FAMILY, like, this is the literal first time in any of their histories that they’ve all been together and just...enjoying a meal together, its....ugh. This is the good food. THIS is the food I’ve been waiting for. But now plz hurry up and tell me if they’re all being mind controlled by Evil Chucky, this is highly critical information and I need it and want it, please can I have it.

Meanwhile, my Marauders #1 thoughts can be summed up as:

Kitty being all yo-ho-yo-ho a pirate’s life for me in a sailboat is random as fuck, I don’t care about the story’s explanation, it just is. Also a million snores to the OH NOES, AM I EVEN A MUTANT AT ALL plot that I had hoped died with the Neo and all the other nonsense Claremont plot bunnies that never needed to be brought to fruition. I am TIRED. I do not CARE. Points to Bobby for making the Only Valid Top Joke, nobody needs to make any others ever, but minus those same points for the random switch of the Pyro that is gay and has slept with Bobby and has Sexual Tension with him for the Pyro that was basically just dead for twenty years, juuuuuuust in time for Bobby and the Not Gay Pyro to be teammates in the same book whereas the ‘Bobby just hit that fairly recently and you’d think this merited followup’ Pyro is once more, nowhere to be found. I am SUSPICIOUS.

But also, death times infinity to the equally inexplicable plot point of Why Is Kitty In Charge When Ororo, Whomst Canonically Is Like The Literal Best Leader The X-Men Have Ever Had and Also Has Actual Queen and Goddess On Her Resume....is like....literally standing right there. We get it. Kitty is amazing, she is the most amazingest maybe!mutant who ever did live, even if she’s not even a mutant or whatever. Like, I actually like Kitty, but part of that like is me maintaining that she would be equally Valid as a character even if she’s NOT the Most Important Maybe!Mutant in all the land, even when she is not on land, but is being a pirate on a sailboat. I just do not get this constant obsessive need to push her as the ultimate successor of Xavier’s dream, like, the figurehead of the next generation of X-Men....when the older generations of X-Men ARE STILL RIGHT HERE. 

Its okay to just have her be a super genius spy computer hacker and also canon ninja ghost girl! She doesn’t also have to be Head Honcho In Charge Of All The X-Men Even Though We Refuse To Render a Hard Verdict On Whether Or Not She’s Canonically Old Enough To Drink Yet. We promise to be impressed by her regardless! I am TIRED. I do not CARE. Let Ororo be the leader she’s always been and always should be, instead of just having her stand behind Punky Brewster: The College Years and co-sign her Important Declarations with an “I’m With Her” T-shirt because lol why even give Ororo dialogue if you don’t need to, am I right, X-writers? 

Like....you put Kitty in charge of a lineup that consists of Ororo, Bobby and Bishop, literally ALL of whom are older than her, more powerful than her, have decades more experience than her, AND have experience being team leaders themselves (yes, even BOBBY, albeit his experience wasn’t with an ‘official’ team lineup, but its well established that he was defacto leader of his oddball lineup during the O:ZT era, and he managed to get them all the way to the Final Boss Fight and win the day without a single one of the mutants under his care kicking the bucket in the betwixt time which is like, more than 90% of mutant leaders can say about their team lineups). 

I’M JUST SAYING that like, even if you want Kitty to be team leader because she’s obviously qualified, like I’m not even disputing that, I’m just being like bwuh, why THIS particular team though? Its so random and like, none of these characters need the girl they all used to babysit to hold their hands and tell them where to go next and who to zap with some of the most potent mutant powers in all of mutant-dom, all of which carry a degree of responsibility that she’s never had to struggle with herself and never will because like....she can’t accidentally wipe a city off the map when she sneezes.

LOOK I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR PLOT POINT THAT’S BARELY EVEN A PLOT POINT, I just...I don’t get Ultimate Boss Lady Kitty Pryde. I mean, again, its NOT remotely about whether or not she’s capable of the job, she’s more than qualified and competent out the wazoo, I just don’t get the seeming NEED they have to push her as Big Bad Boss Lady when again...Ororo is STANDING RIGHT THERE. It doesn’t make SENSE. 

Also, the colorist on this issue SUCKETH THE BIG ONES and needs to go back to coloring school until they can learn to shade and color Ororo’s skin tones appropriately. She should not look like she and Kitty go to the same tanning salon and then get called away to save the day before anything close to a tan is even gotten. Like, what in all the fucks in the great kingdom of Here’s A Lotta Fucks, was up with that fucking colorist. Who hurt you? Whomever told them it was okay for Ororo to look like that deserves a swift kick in the Oh No You Don’t’s.

Okay there you go! My review of the other two that I’ve read so far. Last week was pretty shitty for me so I didn’t even try to read Excalibur #1, because all I knew is it had Apocalypse ‘on the team’ and I noped in the other direction whilst saying, Lord, I do not have the patience this week to see what the fuck they come up with to justify Apoca-freaking-lypse just kicking it around the island and then being all yeah sure, let’s totally team up to go have magical shenanigans in Otherworld, like, I’m sure there’s a reason, but I do not have the brain cells to spare right now on the off chance that the reason is so dumb, multiple of my brain cells simply give up and willfully expire on the spot, rather than try and make sense of the idiocy.

Sooooo, I could just not be giving that premise enough credit, or I could be giving it too much. Time will tell. As for the rest, that about wraps up the current state of my thoughts on all things Dawn of X, with my ultimate takeaway being mostly cool stories so far dudes, but also, just FYI, I refuse to let myself get too too invested in any of this yet, on the off chance that Evil Chucky ISN’T riding shotgun in everyone’s brains and occasionally taking the wheel to use them all to make weird ass decisions like life is one giant game of Grand Theft Auto for him. Because if he’s NOT playing Gepetto to their Pinocchios, there are some WEIRD ASS character beats and story choices going down, and I actually Dislike instead of Like, so making a ruling on just how much of this is Evil Chucky vs how much of this is just Shitty Writing is like....pretty fucking key and I would like enough info to render a verdict on that matter, like, post fucking haste, so plz feel free to stand and deliver on that any day now, Marvel.

[dumbassbestiary]

That Time Camille Met Glenn - Drabble (NSFW)

{The fic i wrote for @nosferatuinblue as crack that then became Glennmille. Go figure.}

It was the mid-nineties: Bill Clinton was President (possibly, I don’t know the exact dates), Vanilla Ice was inexplicably a musical star, and cartoons had never been edgier.

As Camille stepped out of the Trans Am, and threw away the phone book she’d been sitting on to properly operate it, the night smelled of blood…and opportunity.

She’d picked up the car in New Jersey after its owner had wolf-whistled at her. Said owner - a hard-as-nails ex-con who’d done fifteen at Riker’s for armed robbery - now sat in several trash cans behind a Shoney’s. Camille had picked the fragments of skull and brain that’d been left on the wheel of his car after she’d smashed his head against it fourteen and a half times, and chewed them during the drive like gum.

Now, she was in the great state of New York: one of the many stops in her wet (read: bloody), hot (read: deathly cold), American Summer (read: winter). During this little excursion across the states, she’d killed no less than forty people, all of which would be attributed to other, less-competent murderers across the country. She’d kill many more before the trip was up, but that’s not the story we’re telling today.

It’s outside of a filthy-looking dive bar called Randy’s that we join our sanguinarian heroine (Anti-Heroine? Villain?) as she prepared for a night of miscellaneous debauchery.

She trudged across the blacktop, wearing painted-on jeans and a leather jacket that made her look like a tiny biker. She fiddled with a curly lock of her kinky, purple hair and grinned - at a place like this, all bets were off, and that’s the only occasion where Little Miss Domino felt like she could truly have a good time.

The guy at the door was about to make a comment - maybe about her skin, or her gaping facial triangle where her nose should have been, or her pointy buck teeth. The exact nature will never be known, because when Camille’s hand darted preemptively for his groin and squeezed his nuts into butter, the sound he made could only be heard by dogs, and all nearby dogs were reticent to deliver the exact nature of his pained exclamation.

She passed through the door without a care as the beefy doorman crumbled next to her.

When she saw the inside of the bar - which looked kind of like if you took all the furniture out of a doll house and arranged it around the dirtiest gutter, full of dead rats and used condoms,  that you’ve ever had the misfortune to see in your life - she wanted to chug ten gallons of Purell with a chaser of a bathtub full of bleach. But, she managed to suppress the urge, when something else distracted her.

There was a man at the bar - not exceptionally tall, but still somehow imposing. His pale, angular face betrayed a preternatural sense of malice that Camille felt she could really identify with - and his hair might have been the only set of hair in the bar frizzier than her’s.

Like a nest of ginger clown pubes, Camille thought.

He swilled his drink, uninterested. There was something else on the stranger’s mind - but what?

She’d just have to find out.

Camille sauntered over to the bar, and floated up onto the seat.

The stranger didn’t turn to regard her. He just looked at the two ice cubes floating in his drink.

“Hey,” the bartender, who looked like an angry Mario, said on approach. “No kids in my bar.”

Camille’s teeth clenched, and her eyes took on a strange, reflective quality.

The bartender felt mesmerised, and oddly…compliant.

“Take off your belt,” she said, her voice lisping but not undermining the gravity of her tone. “And hang yourself in the bathroom.”

The bartender nodded.

“Yes, ma'am.”

He walked off to the bathroom, loosening his belt.

The redhead stranger perked up, like someone had just told him his VD test came back negative, and turned to Camille. She noticed he was wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt she’d ever seen: palm trees, guns, and corgis.

“Nice work,” he said, his voice deep and cruel. “Normally, I need to unholster something to be that persuasive.”

Camille smiled.

“It’s a gift,” she said.

“You got a name?”

“Camille. You?”

“Rhodes. I’d get you a drink, but you just sent the bartender to go all Hari-Kari in the stalls.”

Camille giggled.

“I don’t like anything on tap here, anyway.”

Glenn put his drink down on the bar, and leaned against his hand.

“I’m guessing you’ve heard of me,” he said.

“Huh?”

“It’s why you approached me, right? You’ve heard frightened whispers about the great Glenn Rhodes, and you wanted to come try my services.”

She cocked her head, perplexed.

“Are you a gigolo or something?”

Glenn sneered.

“I’m the guy you pay when you want someone dead. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

The pint-sized vampire practically snorted in amusement.

“If I want someone dead, they end up dead. I don’t need to pay Ronald McDonald to do it for me.”

The look in Glenn’s eye after that told her she’d touched a nerve. Maybe a mean name he’d been called back in high school. There was a moment of excitement where she thought he might try something, but instead, he just sighed softly, composed himself, and put on the most perfect example of a shit-eating grin.

“Say, anyone ever tell you that you sound a little like Sylvester the Cat?” he asked.

Camille felt the muscles in her face tense.

“What?” she said, giving him a chance to walk it back.

“From Looney Tunes. Try to say Suffering Succotash, you’ll see what I mean.”

Not wanting to dignify his idiotic taunting with a response, she leaned forwards, and moved the edge of his green bomber jacket to the side, so she could see the large hunting knife holstered at his hip.

“You know what they say about men with big knives,” she said.

Rhodes grabbed her by the wrist, irritated.

“They make big stab wounds,” he said.

Camille - not one to ever let herself be bested - grabbed his arm with almost bone-crushing force.

Rhodes winced and resisted the powerful urge to let out a scream.

“Yeah,” Camille said, smiling. “But they usually don’t need them.”

She let him go, and he brought his aching wrist back, rubbing it. His pride was hurting worse.

“That’s quite a grip you’ve got there, short stack,” he said. “I’d hate to be your boyfriend.”

Camille’s eyebrows arched into a “V.”

“Oh yeah?” she said.

***

The bar was evacuated by police within the hour, when someone stumbled into the bathroom, found the hanging bartender, and spilled what they intended to put in the toilet down the side of their left leg.

By that time, though, Camille and Glenn were gone - they were having nasty car sex in the back of the Trans Am like a pair of dumb, horny teens with a respectable collective body count.

She was on top. She was always on top.

“Jesus Christ,” Glenn said, between heavy breaths. “Why are you so cold? I feel like I’m fucking a corpse.”

“How do you know what that feels like?” Camille asked. “And you could have at least taken your gun belt off, you fucking jerk.”

Glenn didn’t answer, but the insults did make them both, for some reason, feel a little more aroused.

They both went at it like wolf-rabbits for a strong three minutes before an explosive conclusion. Camille’s Orlock-esque cum face would haunt his memories until Jenny Walker shot him through the head two years later in the ruins of the Dubois mansion, after an exciting but somewhat confusing fight scene.

Afterwards, they put their clothes back on, and sat in the back of a dead man’s stolen car - feeling, as all of their other sexual partners had before, deeply regretful.

Neither of them asked whether it was good for the other. They weren’t the kind of people who cared.

“Well,” Glenn said. “That’s one for the memoirs I’ll never write. If I did, though, they’d legally have to publish them under horror.”

“Oh, please,” Camille said. “Don’t flatter yourself. I had sex with Pope Pius X. Don’t let the name fool you, he was the freakiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen. He tried stuff I couldn’t describe.”

Glenn shuddered at the mental image.

“I better get off…” Glenn said, climbing out of the back seats of the Trans Am.

“I thought you just did,” Camille said, thinking it was very clever and funny.

“There’s some people I need to kill,” he finished.

“Yeah,” Camille said. “Me too.”

Note: if Camille was able to read this narration, she’d also have replied “I thought you just did” to “he finished” as well. She would have thought that was very clever and funny too.

That was the first and last time they’d ever met - nobody could make a definitive comment on the nature of their relationship. Were they friends? No. Lovers? I mean, could you really call that back seat abomination love? Did they even like each other? Who knows?

The thing that could indeed be said about their relationship, though, is that they probably deserved each other.

#( Glenn ) #nosferatuinblue #drabble #( Hate To Be Your Boyfriend ) #((I love writing her fics)) #((this is one of my faves honestly))

[wontlookaway]

Before They Loved

Pairing: Reader x Gabriel

Synopsis: Bevor they loved each other and bevor they hurt each other, they meet  

Word Count: ~ 2100

Warnings: slightest fluff at the end with a still sad note, not much else yet (but we will get there xD)

Notes: Ok, here it is, the first part of the prequel to my story Love, Love, Love, which I wrote as an entry for nobodys-baby-now 1k/Birthday Writing Challenge. I had much more ideas for the Challenge than I could handle, but it was so much fun writing it. And because some of you liked the main story enough, I will make a small series out of it now. We will start with a prequel and when that is finished I will write the sequel. Enjoy!

Tag list:  @fand0maniac  @calamitychaos @nobodys-baby-now @Iamthetwickster @crazyevilninja-is-lame

want to be tagged? Just ask me :) I will try to update this story every Friday or Saturday.

Part one - the first impression counts?

It felt like ages ago that you had first met the Winchesters. You had met the boys when you visited Bobby to browse through some of his books, hoping to find something that could have helped you in your current case. It quickly turned out that you weren’t the only one who could occasionally use some kind of help in their cases, so it happened that you were accompanying the Winchesters on some hunts from time to time.

And so you also happened to meet the Archangel Gabriel.

The boys had apparently disappeared a few days ago when Castiel called. He had probably hoped that you had a clue about their whereabouts. Unfortunately, you were just as baffled as he was, but that didn’t stop you from helping him with the search.

It didn’t take long to track down the motel where the brothers had recently stayed. The trail of one of Dean's current credit cards had taken you to the motel in Wellington. The Impala wasn’t there, but apparently their room was still occupied. That wasn’t a good sign. In a hurry, Castiel and you looked around and something actually caught your eye. At first it seemed rather inconspicuous: on the small table which still held Sam's laptop, lay a whole heap of crumpled candy paper.

Usually this might not have seemed suspicious to you, but the whole candy wrappers were at Sam's place, and the younger Winchester was very picky about his food. It had to be healthy, as opposed to Dean’s food choices.  The candy wrapper reminded you of something that Bobby had once told you about.

He had gone to Crawford Hall for a few days to help the boys in a case while he asked you to take care of the junkyard and answer any phone calls. Equipped with the right books, which Bobby of course had, you were a passable researcher and Bobby had enough confidence in you to hand his business down to you for a few days. In fact, his absence was short-lived, but that did not stop him from complaining to you about the Winchesters on his return, though of course he kept telling you that he loved them like sons.

During that tirade, he had also told you about the being they had been dealing with: The Trickster. His “misdeeds”, which he had done masked as a university janitor, sounded at least partly funny and that was also the reason why you remembered it so well. As well as the fact that this creature obviously had a craving for sweets.

A look in Sam's computer and a few nearby newspapers showed you very quickly that there had been some mysterious and subtly humorous deaths. The renewed presence of a trickster, or maybe the same trickster, was fairly obvious.

A few short phone calls to the police later and a request for a stray black Impala had led Castiel and you eventually to an abandoned warehouse not far from the city, where Baby was still parked outside.

And that was the first time you had collided with Gabriel.

Castiel and you practically stormed at the same time through the narrow metal door, which led next to a large sliding gate into the hall and yet you were standing there alone a blink of an eye later. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it certainly was not an empty warehouse, but obviously a bustling hospital.

"What the hell ...", you mumbled with disbelieving eyes, while you dodged Dr. Sexy personally, who had just nearly knocked you over. The series was one of Dean's Guilty Pleasures and since you did not make fun of it, unlike Sam, the older Winchester and you had spent quite a few nights watching the events in the walls of the Seattle Mercy Hospital.

"Ok, if that isn’t the work of a trickster, I will eat my socks.", You mumbled to yourself. "Quite an amusing image Cupcake, but you are perfectly right. I am glad that you like my work. I've put emphasis on every detail." a voice said from behind you, almost directly at your ear. Startled, you had driven around just to see just how Dr. Sexy turned in front of your eyes into a completely different and to you unknown person.

"So you're the trickster.", You stated and tried to bring a couple of inches between the two of you by taking a few steps backwards. The Trickster rolled his eyes briefly, before he pursued you with a clearly fascinated look. "So far so obvious Sweet-cheeks, you can call me Loki. But much more interesting is how such a beautiful creature as you got lost here and even in such a doubtful company?"

He obviously meant Castiel and you got a little queasier. For some reason, you could not help but believe that the Trickster seemed to know Castiel.

"You caught two people that I'd like to recover," you replied. "Now probably 3, if you include Castiel... And don’t call me Sweet-Cheeks, I have a name. It’s Y/N, you are welcome to use it. "

The Trickster chuckled for a moment, obviously amused by your blunted type before he seems to catch himself again and a slightly more serious expression takes on his features. "Whatever you want Y/N, but I'm afraid I can’t just return the two morons to you, Sugar."

"It’s still Y/N, not Sugar.", You corrected him, slightly annoyed. "What do you want from the Winchester anyway? They hardly seem to be a threat to you, if you've obviously been playing games with them for days." Despite the threatening situation, you clearly noticed how a bit of your tension eased. Loki, as he had called himself, did not seem as hostile as you had expected, or at least not to you. He was quiet charming, though you found his ever-changing nicknames somewhat irritating, but his eyes held warmth and a touch of pain beside the rogue, of which you could only guess what had caused it. You just didn’t feel threatened in his presence, which made it easier for you to talk openly. Whether that might be a good thing, or not.

"I just want my second family back."

__________

When Castiel burst into his little television world, Gabriel had expected a lot, but not that his brother would be accompanied by a huntress. The moment the two stormed through the door, he separated them from each other and carried the Y/H/C Huntress into his Dr. Sexy world. It was more important to take care of Castiel before he recognized him, or teleported the boys out of here.

With an annoyed snap of his fingers, he promoted his brother into a wrestling match and finished his little game show with the Winchesters earlier than he had planned. His second new guest was initially more interesting.

With a wink, he had brought himself into the world of the Seattle Mercy Hospital, again in the disguise of the titular Dr. Sexy. He spotted the huntress immediately. She was obviously studying her surroundings with some disbelief, but seemed to get far faster than the two brothers before, where she was here.

He walked purposefully toward her and bumped slightly into her.

"Ok, if that isn’t the work of a trickster, I will eat my socks." he heard the huntress mutter. Gabriel took the time to take a closer look at his guest as he snuck up behind her. She was a bit taller than he himself, wearing a pair of apparently well-worn dark brown boots and a pair of faded gray-black jeans through which she had pulled a belt with a hunting knife hanging from it. Like the Winchesters, she also seemed to have an inexplicable weakness for flannel shirts as she wore one over a plain black shirt.

The short time the Archangel had spent looking at the huntress had been more than enough to come to a stop just behind her, so he whispered into her ear to make her aware of his presence: "Quite an amusing image Cupcake, but you are perfectly right. I am glad that you like my work. I've put emphasis on every detail."

She was obviously startled, because in no time at all she was whirling around and Gabriel took advantage of the opportunity to transform back from Dr. Sexy into his usual form. You could say he tend to be dramatic, but why shouldn’t he.

The huntress before him, however, seemed to find it less dramatic than the Archangel had hoped for, because she only backed slightly away from him and didn’t even seem to come up with the idea of reaching for the knife on her belt. He had no idea why she wouldn’t go for that knife. Instead, she fixed the obvious and made him roll his eyes. He never liked this habit of people to point the obvious, but for some reason he found it more amusing than annoying as she did it.

And so he couldn’t help but give her another nickname while still remembering that she was a huntress after all. A huntress who had also broken through his door with one of his brothers by her side. So it would be better to find out what she wanted here instead of having fun, even if he was quiet sure that she was here for the Winchesters.

"You caught two people that I'd like to recover." She answered him without hesitation and Gabriel wanted to sigh loudly before he actually had to suppress a chuckle at the end. The little girl was obviously very outspoken and showed no fear, if she should feel any at the moment. And he even got her name. Y/N was the name of his little huntress, he would remember that.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t let the Winchester go so easy. After all, he did what he did here not for fun, at least not primarily. The boys had to learn to accept their roles, before that he would never let them go. And he would also have to clarify that to Y/N now.

"Whatever you want Y/N, but I'm afraid I can’t just return the two morons to you, Sugar." He told her, shrugging his shoulders theatrically. But instead of a furious reaction he might have expected, she only rang him again for calling her Sugar. Truly an interesting woman, the trickster thought as her last sentence catched him off guard a bit.

"I just want my second family back."

Gabriel could understand that too well. And yet it wasn’t possible neither for her nor for him. The thought made the archangel sad and at the same time made it clear that he shouldn’t stay longer with the huntress here in Seattle Mercy Hospital. He had better things to do, or at least more important things. And who know, maybe Castiel already found a way out of his wrestling hell.

"That’s not possible, I'm sorry."

Before the huntress could reply, Gabriel had already snapped his fingers. He disappeared from her field of vision and the hospital scenery with him. Instead, he put her into a documentary, one about kittens, so that the Huntress was now surrounded by fluffy wool balls that tried to crawl up her pant legs.

He didn’t know exactly why he had chosen this scenario, but perhaps her eyes had reminded him of the kittens when she spoke of the Winchesters as her second family. And maybe, maybe Gabriel felt a little guilty about that and wanted to leave her at least in a pleasant television landscape as long as he worked to break her family for his own salvation.

 End of part one

#supernatural #fanfiction #gabriel x reader #Bevor They Loved #prequel #love love love

[notwhelmedyet]

Is 'Ratchet has a nice day' a sufficient writing prompt?

yes, of course! This ficlet is called Still Waters and I’ll probably throw it on ao3 tomorrow after I edit it / after work bc I really like it. Post-war, post-LL, inexplicable happy ending with a deeply dreamlike feeling. Married Dratchet, bc that’s my speed.

The space between patients was a good one. Sunlight came into the corridor through the skylights above and soaked into his plating, doors of the examination rooms built thick and insulated so the air hung still. Ratchet let himself sit in the bench while he read through the notes on his next patient, warmth from the solar radiation loosening up his aching joints.

When he got to the examination room, his assistant was still there, bouncing on his heels as music warbled out of the speakers they’d rigged up in the corners of the room. The patient was hooked up to as many readouts as was feasible, but was still swinging his legs in time with the beat.

“Oh, hey Ratch,” Beacon said with a lazy salute. “Got you a Cybercrosis case. Skywave, this is Doctor Ratchet, he’ll be handling your case while I assist.”

Skywave smiled a little pinched smile at Ratchet. A couple years wasn’t near long enough for anyone to get used to the idea of Cybercrosis being easily curable. Ratchet could understand, still had to catch himself on the diagnosis every time. But Skywave wasn’t far along and the cure they’d been improving ever since Luna I was a perfect fit for him. Ratchet got him settled and set up in the energon filtration system, and made sure Beacon had scheduled up the follow-up appointment while he walked him through the theory of the cure. Beacon was a promising medic, Ratchet hoped he’d stick around after his apprenticeship was over. His students kept leaving to found hospitals all over the galaxy and it’d be good to have a helping hand around the clinic.

After Skywave’s appointment, Ratchet excused himself to take his mid-shift break. He was partway through a book Nautica had recommended him and he was hoping to finish it before they saw each other next. The book had a nice audio narrator, so he took a walk around the neighborhood while he listened, grabbed a few things from one of the corner store where they didn’t mind if you kept your audio feed running and limited your interactions to the business essentials. The air was swirling with sweet scents from the snack stands Drift could never resist. Ratchet didn’t feel hungry yet, so he just let all of that soak into his chemoreceptors and imagined how they’d taste.

After break, he observed Beacon on some simple cases, fixing broken limbs, replacing parts, cleaning and upgrading. It was a quiet day at the clinic, the way Ratchet liked them. He took a call from the local hospital, looking to see when he could act as lead for a fairly complicated surgery, spark chamber embrittlement. Ratchet put them on his calendar for the day after next after checking to make sure the patient wasn’t reaching the terminal stages yet. Then he had to call up First Aid and see if he still had those old case files on the embrittlement surgeries they’d attended over together. Ratchet had them somewhere, but he was still at the “dump all the files in a pile“ stage of his ongoing file organization project. He’d get to it eventually.

The night nurse, Latency, came in a few minutes early and they caught up on a few administrative things they’d been meaning to talk about. Beacon headed out while their heads were still together, going over their supply ordering calendar. Ratchet was reminded of the time with a jolt and stood up out of his seat midsentence. “I forgot—”

Latency grinned and waved him off. “Go! We can talk this over tomorrow.”

Ratchet nodded and made his way out through the waiting room, where a few patients were filling out forms with the help of Latency’s apprentice, whose name Ratchet still hadn’t memorized. They all paused to wave him goodnight as he hustled through. He stepped out into the cool blue night air, brushing invisible specks off his plating as he went. He checked his chrono and realized it wasn’t nearly as late as he’d imagined, barely two minutes over his habitual departure time. He chuckled, shaking his head at himself. Getting all flustered about being two minutes late, some things never changed.

“Hey there, handsome. You waiting for someone?” A mech strode down the walkway, hands resting loosely on his hips and a sharp-toothed smile playing on his face.

Ratchet groaned and reached out to grab Drift by the wrist and pull him close. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, smiling into the crook of Drift’s neck where Drift wouldn’t be able to see it. Drift threw his arms around Ratchet’s back, fingers tracing gentle circles on his plating.

Drift hummed agreeably. “Sure am,” he said. “You ready to go? Need anything from home?”

“I’m good,” Ratchet said.

They stood there for a long moment, nobody willing to step back first. Eventually, Drift pulled away, trailing a hand over Ratchet’s arm to catch his hand and he did. Ratchet squeezed back and smiled at Drift. Under the white streetlights, Drift’s plating practically glowed, whole and perfect. Drift caught him staring and ducked his head, biting at his lower lip in that old habit of his.

“How was your day?” Ratchet asked, starting them down the street. The storefronts on this block were bright at night, panels of light across the walkway guiding them towards the rail hub.

“It was good,” Drift said. “I like teaching, you know. It’s good.”

Ratchet liked Drift teaching too, better than the days he worked the perimeter of the city scouring the wilderness for dangerous creatures or orbital security. Drift was untethered, you couldn’t expect him to be content doing the same thing every day like Ratchet did. It was enough to ask him to stay planetside with Ratchet.

“I’d love to see you teach sometime,” Ratchet said.

“You could take a day off any time,” Drift said. “Beacon could fill in, or call up one of your old students. Or even just close the clinic for the day; it’s not like there aren’t other hospitals.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Ratchet said. The train pulled up and slid to a silent halt, doors opening into the brightly lit space. Drift and Ratchet crowded together in the back, nearly in each other’s laps, Drift’s head tilted back against Ratchet’s chest as they talked over the day and the little things that had filled it. The space filled up as they went along, packed to bursting when they hit the shore and Drift and Ratchet squeezed their way out onto the beach. There was already a crowd and music going, lights spotted along the shoreline and the moon bright above. Drift pinged out for them and immediately set out through the crowd to meet up with their friends.

Ratchet spotted Thunderclash first, a head and shoulders above the crowd even if Rung hadn’t been riding on his shoulders, laughing away. Thunders spotted Ratchet and Drift and beamed at them. The rest of the crew parted like the sea and folded them in, surrounded by a mass of patting hands and careening conversations. Someone pushed a drink in Ratchet’s hand and Thunderclash offered up a toast.

They hung close by Thunderclash, Ratchet and Drift each with one arm slung around the other’s waist as they chatted and sipped new mixes Swerve had dreamed up. Thunderclash drew out a few stories, forming worlds with his hands as he went. Eventually Rodimus rolled up, fashionably late as always. The music had picked up a driving rhythm and Rodimus came over already half dancing.

“Ratch, can I steal your conjunx for a song?” Rodimus said with a laugh, overcharged slur to his words. Ratchet rolled his optics and waved Drift on, watching as the two speedsters scooted out into the crowd of dancers. The two friends grinned at each other and twirled until they were lost in the crowd. They came back a few songs later, Rodimus clinging to Drift’s back like a sucker as Drift lurched, half collapsing under Rodimus’s weight and his uncontrollable giggles. Drift dumped him out on the sand and flopped on the ground, watching Ratchet from across the crowd.

Ratchet made his apologies to Thunders and went to his conjunx, still lying on the ground in a pose he probably thought was alluring, covered in sand. “Having fun down there?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Tons of fun,” Drift agreed. “You should pick me up, I’m tired.”

“Nah,” Ratchet said. “That’s just you trying to trick me into getting dragged into a sand wrestle with you and Rod. I know your tricks.”

“See?” Rodimus said. “I told you, he’s onto us!”

Drift pouted. “You’re no fun, Ratch.”

“I just don’t want sand in my hip joints again. Once was plenty. Twice was excessive.”

Drift shrugged, not contrite at all. With a quick roll back onto his shoulders, he threw himself back onto his feet and offered Rodimus a hand up before pressing himself up against Ratchet’s side again, sand gritty between their plating. Rodimus hooked his thumb over his shoulder, mouthing something that looked like “Finding Magnus,” as he backed into the crowd. “It’s a beautiful night,” Drift said.

“Yeah, it is,” Ratchet agreed.

“Thanks for coming out with me.”

“Of course,” Ratchet said. “How’s our favorite terror?”

“Roddy’s great,” Drift said. “He wants to take me asteroid surfing again.”

“Of course he does,” Ratchet said. “You going?”

“Said I had to check with you, I wasn’t sure if it’d conflict with our plan for the anniversary trip.”

Ratchet tipped his helm against Drift’s and rested a moment. “We’ll check when we get home. You want to find a spot to watch the show?”

They ended up sitting out on the pier, waves lapping up against their ankles. The shore was packed, mechs shoulder to shoulder as they watched the night sky. Ratchet had completely lost sight of the rest of the crew in the thick of it.

The first firework split the sky with a shockwave that sent waves slapping against the pier. Drift startled, but he was smiling when Ratchet looked over. The next explosion wasn’t any quieter, and Ratchet lowered his audial sensitivity with a wince. Fireworks were a lot louder up close, when you shot them off in atmosphere. Drift jumped again at the third blast and someone banged their knee against the back of Ratchet’s head.

He turned to Drift to ask but Drift was already speaking. “Do you want—”

“—to go home?”

He snorted and crouched on the pier, scooping Drift up into his arms as he stood. Drift wriggled and started laughing, throwing his arms around Ratchet’s neck like he thought a medic frame wasn’t capable of lifting a lightweight speedster like him. Ratchet didn’t complain, about that or the sand. The other spectators on the pier gave them dirty looks as Ratchet picked his way back to the shore. Frag them. The lightshow happened every year and went for hours, they weren’t missing anything. Ratchet didn’t set Drift down till they were back at the rail station for fear of losing him in the crowd. From up there the crowd was a shifting chaos of bioights in the dark but the explosions were still strut-shakingly loud.

On the train home they sat in seats across from one another, alone in the railcar. “I can’t believe we bailed on our first date in months,” Drift said.

“It was my fault. I just don’t like being surrounded by that many people,” Ratchet said. “Sorry if I ruined your evening.”

“Don’t lie, I know you left because I wasn’t enjoying it.” Drift smiled, a little sad. “I thought it’d be easier.”

“We’ll catch the second half at home,” Ratchet said. “We’ll get up on the roof and watch, you can bring those ridiculous snacks you like.”

“Best of both worlds,” Drift said. He swapped over to the seat next to Ratchet and cozied up against his side. They’d be home in a few minutes, and Ratchet would manage to forget the keycode again. They’d wander through their hab with the lights off and bump into everything and each other gathering up snacks and blankets and whatever else Drift suddenly needed desperately. They’d curl up under the stars together and they’d be home and everything would be good.

Primus, what a life he’d lived.

#squireofgeekdom #maccadam #mtmte #dratchet #my fics #ficlets #ya know after I edit it #gay space car robots: IN SPACE

[robertspatts]

yo babe Idk if u want to write anything but if u do itd be super great if you could write a fic where eddie gets his heart broken by a boy for the first time and richie sneaks into his room to comfort him

Ahhhh i tried i hope its ok!!! 

Hold Me- Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak -1.1k words

Richie Tozier had been in love with Eddie Kaspbrak for just over a year now. What started off as a banter-filled friendship, became sweaty palms and butterflies in Richie’s stomach every time he spoke to Eddie. The rest of the Losers Club saw Richie’s feelings as an open book and teased him all the time for his massive crush on Eddie, but somehow, Eddie was completely oblivious to it. In fact, Eddie had been dating Mark, a senior at their school for just over 6 months now. Mark fitted in well with the Losers and he seemed to make Eddie really happy, which made the butterflies in Richie’s stomach so much more violent, because Richie knew he was inexplicably in love with a boy who would never love him back.

*****

The summer holidays had just begun, and although the sun was shining and the water in the lake was warm, Eddie Kaspbrak hadn’t come outside to hang with the Losers in weeks. Nobody seemed to question it, which was making Richie furious. He always felt empty when Eddie wasn’t around, Eddie was his person; Bill had Stan, Bev had Ben and Mike had a special bond with all of them. But he and Eddie always shared something that the other Losers didn’t; Eddie was the person he could rely on, the person that would never leave him or tell him to stop talking. Falling in love with him was so easy.

“Where the fuck is Eddie?” Richie finally snapped at the Losers. “He hasn’t been here in weeks, and no one knows where… no one gives a shit about where he is.”

The Losers looked taken aback, they turned awkwardly to face one another, as they realised that Richie was the only one Eddie didn’t tell about what happened.

“We thought you knew.” Beverly muttered quietly.

“Knew what?”

“Mark broke up with Eddie, Richie, I think it was a pretty bad breakup, Eddie wouldn’t tell us much, but he looked pretty shaken up,” Mike said.

Richie looked sheepishly down at the ground, trying to hide his hurt. The thought of Eddie not telling him something as important as this made Richie question everything. Maybe Eddie didn’t trust him at all. Maybe Eddie didn’t ever want him.

“I gotta go,” Richie said, quickly kicking up his bike stand and pedalling away from the Losers without so much as an explanation.

*****

That night, Richie snuck out of his house, not even bothering to be quiet as his mother had been passed out drunk for hours. He nabbed one of her cigarettes and pedalled towards the Kaspbrak household. Although he never did feel welcome there, it was the only place he ever wanted to be, he felt closer to Eddie when he was in his house. Just sitting in Eddie’s room made Richie so happy; he would always make fun of Eddie’s dinosaur figurines and his lame posters but secretly he thought that they were super cute, he thought they were even cuter when Eddie would blush whenever he would point them out.

Richie lent against the oak tree outside Eddie’s house. The light was on in Eddie’s room, so he knew he was awake. Richie smiled at the thought of Eddie curled up in his bed, looking smaller than ever, being absolutely enthralled in whatever he was reading. Eddie would always tell Richie the plot of every book he read, and even though Richie would tease and act uninterested, he secretly loved hearing every single one of Eddie’s recommendations, and although he would never admit this, Richie had borrowed and read every single one of Eddie’s recommendations.  

Richie picked up a small pebble and threw it up to Eddie’s window. He had done this countless of times before, always sneaking in to Eddie’s room when he was feeling low or his mother had had too much to drink, but this time felt different, he felt he wasn’t welcome. Richie sighed as the pebble bounced of the window sill and fell to the ground, and turned around to leave. Eddie’s figure suddenly appeared at the window and he creaked open the window and beckoned Richie to come. Richie felt relieved as he climbed up the drain pipe, something he had become an expert in over the past 6 years.

“Hey Eds,” he smiled as he appeared at the window and crawled inside. “Long time, no see,” he cheekily said, playing off the fact that he knew it had been exactly 23 days and 5 hours since he had last seen Eddie.

Eddie rolled his eyes feeling comforted by the first degree of normalcy he had had in weeks.

“You okay Eds?” Richie asked. “I heard about you and Mark and I was a bit sad you didn’t tell me but… anyways I want you to be okay, do you want to talk about it?” Richie tentatively lent on Eddie’s shoulder, he wasn’t sure if he should, but he really wanted to be close to him right now.

“I didn’t tell you because… I knew you’d probably go and fight him or something,” Eddie cracked a smile, which Richie knew was fake because his dimples didn’t show, as they did when Eddie was genuinely happy.

Eddie sighed. “Things were going so well Richie, he told me he loved me, I’ve never felt love like that before…” Richie’s face fell.

“…Romantic love like that,” Eddie continued. “It was like everything was always going to be okay because he was there you know…I don’t know Richie you wouldn’t understand if you’d never been in love before.”

Richie understood all too well as the boy who made him feel all those things was looking right at him.

“I just miss being held,” Eddie said. “I miss the feeling of someone holding me tight and the world didn’t feel so messed up anymore.”

Richie smiled and nodded at the boy who made him feel that the world wasn’t so messed up anymore.

“C-Can you hold me Rich, you can stay here tonight.”

Richie twitched, the thought of being that close to Eddie made his heart flutter, it’s not that he hadn’t ever cuddled Eddie before, they used to all the time as kids, when it was winter and Eddie’s mom refused to turn on the heating in case it triggered Eddie’s asthma.

“Of course, Eds.” Richie lay down next to Eddie and wrapped his arms around him. Richie would have given anything in the world to kiss the small, sleepy, Eddie next to him, but he knew it wasn’t right.

“Everything is gonna be all right Eds.” Richie mumbled. “You’re gonna find someone who thinks the sun shines out of your ass and the flowers grow just for you because that’s what you bloody deserve, damn it.”

Eddie smiled. “Love you Rich.”

Taglist: @denbruhh @birdbabestan @goshdarndiddlyheck @richiietozierr @httpsalien @toshitophchan @january-emb3rs @ri-chietozier

#reddie #it2017 #it1990 #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing #sarah speaks #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #i trIED #probs terrible #the losers club #someone read this