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[myserie]

Luke has had enough of their parents grossing him out while he’s trying to concentrate. His big brother Henry is used to it by now.

[myserie]

Dean struggles to believe even a fraction of Henry’s future where Dean is happy, safe, and is loved by and loves his son and…and husband.

Castiel cannot give him the answers he needs, but assures him of the truths he knows.

[myserie]

Dean and Henry’s annual road trip hits a snag when the Impala decides to break down in the middle of no where.

Dean’s trying to keep his son’s spirit up, but Henry is just stating a fact his dad is avoiding.

[myserie]

Dean is forced to confront his own future when Cas brings a young boy to Bobby’s, claiming to be their son from the distant future, as well as his own budding feelings for the Angel who pulled him out of hell.

[myserie]

In the days after Lucifer’s rising, Castiel is shocked to discover a Nephil unknown to Heaven, who makes almost unbelievable claims about his own future.

The boy offers his help in stopping what’s to come, and Castiel is hesitant to deny him.

[myserie]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47549077/chapters/122286745

Latest chapter of come morning light is up!

[myserie]

thinking about how orpheus turning to look back at eurydice isn’t a sign of mortal frailness but a sign of love

[myserie]

“I don’t like John,” his kid says, blunt.

Dean should do the right thing; he should tell Henry that John is family, that he’s come back from the dead and this is an incredible opportunity for him to know his grandfather, that once he spends a bit more time with John he’ll see he’s not so bad.

But he doesn’t. “Yeah, me neither,” Dean says, and Henry’s eyes are big as dinner plates. “If he wasn’t family I’d have sent him packing by now.”

-

John Winchester comes back from the dead, but Dean has been out of the life for almost a decade and struggles to let his father into his life, and more importantly, the life of his son, Henry.

Title from Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift

[myserie]

Anyway Fire Emblem Three Houses has a nicer combat system and story hook than Fire Emblem Engage and they should have stayed in Fodlán for at least another game, maybe two since it has so much story to be told.

[myserie]

Skyrim WIP

He pushes the great doors open with a heave; ancient and solid, cut from the great oaks that grow in the south of Skyrim and banded with steel bars. These were doors built to withstand siege engines.

His fingers trace the edge of the steel, the sharp tang of power creeping up his throat, and he swallows it down.

These doors were built to withstand the Thu’um.

Inside the Palace is much warmer; enough that his boys begin shedding their layers as soon as the great doors close behind them, leaving them in a damp pile on the floor between their feet.

“I hope you don’t plan on making yourselves too much at home,” Garrett warns.

“We won’t be staying?” Is Hroar’s immediate response. “But I thought you were joining the Stormcloaks?”

“I haven’t made a decision yet,” Garrett replies, removing his own damp furs and gesturing for one of the maids to come closer. He places the furs in her waiting hands and looks at his boys.

They have the decency to look scolded as they pick up their furs and move to hand them to the maid, but he grabs the backs of their jackets before they can.

“You can go with the maid,” he tells them. “And dry your own furs since you think it appropriate to leave messes for others to clean up.”

The boys groan, bow their heads and follow the maid, who is hiding a smile as best she can, off to wherever they must dry travellers’ furs.

Garrett watches them disappear into the halls that branch off from the great hall and lingers for a while, his mind quiet. He savours it, inhaling the smoke-and-salt filled air of the castle, listening to the howling wind under the crackle of fresh wood on a great fire, and breathes.

His last moment of peace before the flames.

[myserie]

Concept for a HotD fic that I wanna write:

Viserys passes within days of Daeron's birth and the distress spirals into Alicent dying in childbirth. Daeron makes it of course but all four of Rhaenyra's siblings, plus herself, are now orphaned and now she has to ascend the throne. Thankfully Lyonel is Hand and makes sure her coronation is well handled, Rhaenyra is crowned with Laenor at her side as King Consort.

The young queen agonizes over what to do about her siblings. Aegon is a little boy but old enough to know and remember his parents and Heleana is just passed her third nameday. But Aemond is less than a year old and Daeron's only glimpse of his mother was of her dying. She considers the fact of her own child in her belly and how these children pose a challenge to her rule. But they are all that's left of her father and her girlhood friend. She will not abandon them.

No, they are her family and they need a mother.

Her first true act as queen is to adopt her siblings and raise them as her own. Many question the wisdom of such a choice, especially when she births a dark haired son. The whispers begin but she is not swayed, Jacaerys is her heir. Born of her body. And any who speak against him will be tried for treason.

She does worry that her siblings will feel neglected with the new baby, though. She spends many a day with them in the nursery. Placing Jacaerys and Daeron in the same cradle to foster closeness. She does not ask Aegon or Heleana to call her mother, but Aemond who hasn't yet spoken reaches for her hand one day and utters the phrase:

"You look sleepy, mama. Nap time?"

It breaks something in her to hear a chubby babe call her mama. She tells him that babies just take a lot of work and so does being a queen. She's struggling to balance the work of being queen with being a mother but the way Aemond crawls into her lap and insists it's nap time in the most serious of tones makes her fall in love. Aegon and Heleana soon follow in calling her mama, the months that come.

Aegon shyly tugging her skirt as she makes to head to a small council meeting. "Can I come too? Can I help, mama?" She walks into the small council chambers holding her seven year old adopted son's hand. He serves as her cupbearer after that.

Rhaenyra finds out that Heleana has been waking up crying for mama and the maids have thought that she just missed her mother. Rhaenyra asks who she's crying for one afternoon and Heleana just holds her arms out to be held.

Even as she births her second son a year after the first, she continues to dote upon her adopted children. She learns to tend their needs, as does Laenor. Her husband is found with Aegon passed out on his shoulders after sword practice quite often and takes Aemond flying on Seasmoke. The first word that Daeron speaks is 'papa'. Rhaenyra realizes that Laenor has fallen just as in love with them as she has.

Their family grows closer and better loved by the year. Rhaenyra gets to raise her family. Even with all the mixed emotions and the weight of the crown, she will not fail these children as her father failed her.

[myserie]

Thinking about a duct tape wizard

[myserie]

Some Chris Pike/Damian thoughts

Chris and Damian met the night before Damian was scheduled to join Enterprise, and while they didn’t have sex they did flirt and Chris was charming and Damian was coy and they talked and drank at the bar until Chris leaned in to kiss Damian and Damian panicked and bolted. The next morning on the bridge, Chris didn’t mention he and Damian have met before when meeting the new Ensigns assigned to Enterprise for Command Training.

Neither of them knew who the other was, and both are happy to keep it to themselves and leave it in the past, but they can’t deny that there are feelings now.

Una picks up that Chris is different, especially when he hesitates to invite the new Ensigns to dinner at his quarters and he’s unusually tight lipped as to why.

She catches him staring over her shoulder one day, and follows his gaze to see Ensign Rydell and Spock passionately debating differing theories, and knows Chris has it bad.

Una tells Chris the obvious things: he can’t be the one to make the first move, he can’t show preference, if he tells Star Fleet there’ll be an investigation, if it gets out that Damian will be singled out and scrutinised by both Command and his peers.

-Damian makes the first move; standing on an observation deck in the soft blue glow of the nebula below. They’re alone, for the first time since Enterprise left space dock, and Damian has gathered a shred of courage, built partially on the spite he has for his mother and mostly on the feeling he gets when he catches Captain Pike’s eye from across the bridge. His hand curls up over Chris’ shoulder, his other reaching for Chris’ own as he leans up on his toes and meets him half way. It’s chaste and soft, tentative, with all the promise of more later.

“Can I call you Damian?” Is whispered into the crown of his head as they lay on one of the couches on the deck, Chris’ hand caressing up and down his spine.

“Can I call you Christopher?” Damian answers back, head tucked under Chris’ chin as they watch the nebula swirl beneath them.

-They don’t talk about Starfleet, or their difference in age and rank, or tomorrow, or anything beyond the locked door of the Observation deck.

[myserie]

I’m looking to get back in the Trek community and was looking for Star Trek discords looking for new members?

[myserie]

Not Tonight

Chris Pike/Male!OC Hurt/Comfort post episode 6

Damian is out of uniform when he arrives at Chris' quarters, dressed down in faded blue jeans and a too big hoodie with a broken zipper. He hesitates at the door, fist raised to knock, heart racing from the run from his own quarters to the Officer's Deck.

Una's message rings loud and clear in his mind; he needs you tonight, please. And he knocks, knuckles aching from the cold steel.

It takes a moment, but finally the door hisses open and Chris is darkening the entry way, tall and broad as ever; and as his bright eyes, so full of pain and sorrow and rage, drift down over Damian's form, Damian remember who the original owner of the hoodie is.

"Hi," Damian says.

Chris just blinks, slow and tired.

"Sir-" Damian continues.

Chris flinches, grimacing at the honorific, taking a step back into his quarters.

Damian moves, putting his foot in the path of the door and reaching out, wrapping his fingers firm around Chris' wrist.

"Christopher," he says, softly, pleading.

Chris' eyes are glassy, wide and sad.

"Dami," he manages, voice cracking. "Don't go. Please."

It's all the invitation Damian needs as he moves further into Chris' personal space, reaching up and around Chris' shoulders as he presses a kiss against the other man's lips. Chris melts into it, arms coming around Damian's waste, fisting in the hoodie's soft fabric.

It's not until he feels something damp and warm on his face that he pulls away and sees the fresh tears falling free from Chris' eyes.

"Hey, none of that," Damian whispers, using the sleeve to wipe a few away.

"I trusted her," Chris says.

"I know," Damian tells him, and Chris drops his head into Damian's shoulder. His arms go tight around Damian's middle, shoulders trembling as tears dampen the hoodie and the shirt underneath, breath hitching in choking sobs as the emotion of the day finally crashes down onto him.

The door hisses shut the moment they’re both fully inside Chris’ quarters, leaving the rest of the ship out of sight and mind. He nudges Chris further inside, slowly detangling himself from the vice-like grip Chris has on the back of his hoodie.

“What do you want?” Damian asks him when Chris finally pulls away. “What do you need from me?”

Chris’ reaction is instant, and unexpected. He takes a step back, turning away as he moves further into his quarters and picks up a glass of amber liquid sitting on his coffee table.

“If you’re here to take advantage of me, do it another night,” Chris says, voice strained. “I’m not in the mood to have my heart played with twice this week.”

“I’m asking what you want, Christopher,” Damian replies. “You don’t want sex? Fine. Do you want to talk? Eat? Hell, let’s drink. I’ve gotten really good at drowning my emotions in tequila the last year.”

“That’s not funny,” Chris snaps.

“No, it isn’t,” Damian says. “I don’t know what you want, Christopher. I don’t know what you need right now.”

“You used to know,” Chris mutters, swallowing the rest of his glass and moving to pour another.

Damian shoots forward, grabbing the bottle before Chris can. He holds it just out of Chris’ reach, and grips his wrist with his other hand before Chris can move away.

Damian stares at him, and slowly the dawning horror spreads across Chris’ face.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean-that’s not fair.”

Damian stares for another moment or so, and then sighs, gripping the bottle in his hand and bringing it to his lips to swallow a finger or two.

“Let’s start again,” Damian suggests, putting the bottle down. “I don’t know what you want, Christopher. Tell me what I can do to help.”

Chris is silent, tight lipped and brow furrowed, for a long moment.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he says finally, a crack in his voice. “Not tonight, not ev-“

Chris swallows. “Not tonight, please?”

Damian moves his hand from Chris’ wrist and tangles their fingers together instead. He leans up, gently cupping Chris’ jaw as he kisses the older man. “I can do that,” he says, and smiles. “Come to bed?”

Chris smiles, the first Damian has seen all night. “Yeah,” he replies.

[myserie]

So the Batkids love Superman. Anytime he’s in Gotham all he hears is “Superman!” And suddenly has a half dozen brightly coloured gremlins suction cupped to his person.

Batkids also love being thrown into the air as high as possible, it calibrated their brains. Superman is the best at this and can juggle at least four of them while also holding a perfectly serious conversation with Batman.

[myserie]

Bruce: *pointing at Dick* this is an orphan

Clark: Dear God.

Bruce: *gestures to the rest of the bat family* there’s more.

Clark: No.