#(( if it's not clear this is set sometime probably just before michael ends up at circus baby's !

[runelocked]

we both know you're leaving. you just don't want to say it yet. / from mike!

FOR A MAN WHO ALWAYS HAS AN ANSWER, THE RESPONSE OF SILENCE IS TELLING. William can’t really deny it — refuses to be a hypocrite, hypocritically — but stubbornly can’t admit to it either. Yes, he’s leaving. It’s their final meal together, the Last Supper, he thinks a tad hysterically, suppressing the urge to laugh . . . And he’s been trying so hard to keep his intentions hidden. Setting down his cutlery, he wonders if making a three course meal had been the giveaway. Or maybe just the fact he’d chosen to spend time with his only remaining child without arguing or fighting.

Perhaps Mike just knows him so damn well. That thought is simultaneously gratifying and terrifying.

“ If you already think you know, then clearly I don’t need to say anything. ” He forces out through uncomfortable lips, eyeing the remains of his cold dinner rather than his son. His suitcase is packed in his room. There is nothing left for him here. Just Michael, who might be better off without him anyway. “ You seem to have convinced yourself that I am leaving. Would anything I say sway that ? ”

[uwudonoodle]

This month for my book / movie club, we read The Andromeda Strain by Michael Crichton, and I have some thoughts. It was my first Crichton book, so I was looking forward to it (they did Jurassic Park before I joined). I didn't hate it, but I was underwhelmed. It was all plot and no character. The plot itself, the mystery of the virus was fairly interesting, but I think it was bogged down with too much scientific jargon. It's clear that the author did a lot of research, and the science itself is pretty accurate, which is admirable, but not all research serves a narrative. Not all sci-fi needs to be accurate to tell a good story.

It's not that I hated what the book was, but I think it could've been more. The characters were basically props to give exposition. They were all generic white male scientists with only a couple of unique traits to distinguish them. The most prominent female character in the book was the voice recording in the lab, whom the male characters liked because she sounded sultry.

There was essentially no character development. They could have had the scientists butt heads about procedure or hypothesis, and come to a better understanding and even become good friends by the end, but they didn't. They worked amicably most of the time and didn't develop anything more than the professional working relationship they started with. They're was a baby who was a survivor that was basically treated as any other piece of evidence. I kept waiting for someone's humanity to come out around the baby, but he was just treated as an object (they kept refusing to feed him because maybe having an empty stomach was why he survived, talk about neglect). It would have been interesting to have one of the scientists develop an attachment to the baby, and possibly seek to adopt him by the end, but no such luck. He was just another piece of the puzzle to serve the mystery. For a story about saving humanity, there was very little humanity to be had.

One other nitpick: It drove me nuts how often the scientists were trying to look at things critically and unbiased, and then they'd refer to humanity as "man" or "mankind". I get it, this was written in the 60's, and that's how people talked back then. But you're literally referring to your entire species by your own gender, my dude. I could let it roll off my shoulder a few times, but I lost count after about 40 times. It ended up rolling my eyes a lot at that specifically.

I thought I would enjoy the movie better, as I thought the actors would have to add more personality to the characters. We watched the film from 1971. Unfortunately for me, they followed the book very closely. I'll give them a point for a faithful adaption since so many movies fail at that, but I think a looser adaption would have made for a better film.

The improvements they did make was to add more female characters. They made one of the scientists a woman, and not a 25 year old super model either. She was a very average looking 40 something woman, which was very refreshing. They also added a female nurse to help take care of the baby (it was a relief to me to have someone to comfort the baby and advocate for his care). I also really liked the set design of the lab. Vintage 70's futurism is always a good vibe.

Unfortunately the script followed the book a little too religiously. The dialogue droned on with scientific jargon that was difficult to follow, and sometimes had me zoning out. They also had some disturbing scenes of putting lab rats and monkeys to sleep that probably wouldn't be allowed today. Besides the nice set design, it was visually very sterile. It felt claustrophobic and bland under all the florescent lights. Film is a visual art form. The very least you can do is make it appealing to look at.

The worst part was the music and sound effects. It had the most grating minor 70's "the aliens are coming" electronic score, which I guess served the plot, but was overall very unpleasant. The music coupled with all of the obnoxious sounds and alarms in the lab made for a true assault on the senses in some scenes. Even my partner in the other room came and asked what all that terrible noise was all about. I was relieved when the credits finally rolled if only to experience silence again.

I guess I get why it's a classic, since they did build some tension with the mystery, and the climax was exciting. For people who crave scientific accuracy, this is an excellent recommendation (my sister mentioned that this was required reading for the AP Biology class at my high school). As someone who wants emotional satisfaction and human connection in my stories, I'm probably not the target audience. It was an interesting experience, but I'm happy to move onto the next book.

[scattered-winter]

is it cheating if i say 911 + apocalypse 👀

ngl. I have in fact been thinking about a 911 love and monsters au. which ik isn't the You Know What that u were probably wanting but uh. I have no control over my brain alas

LET ME SET THE SCENE.

love and monsters takes place about 7 years after nuclear missiles sent to destroy a world destroying asteroid rained debris down on earth and mutated all of the insects, reptiles, and amphibians into massive monsters. around 95% of the human population was wiped out from these monsters, and the survivors formed underground colonies where they could hide and survive. the colonies stayed connected via radio (which is one of my fav tropes in apocalypse media btw <3333) the plot of the movie happens because the main character leaves his colony and travels over 80 miles over monster-infested land to get to his girlfriend's colony, but in this au things would be. a little different <3

buck and maddie are separated when things first went to shit. maddie was with doug, and ofc she tried to find buck but wasn't able to in all the chaos. the buckley parents are killed by a monster (god fucking bless) (right in front of buck tho..alas) and a group of strangers pull a shocked + terrified buck into the back of their truck to get the hell outta dodge (this group of strangers later becomes his colony aka found family. u already know who they are <3) buck's colony consists of bobby + athena (haven't decided if they're together yet or not) + michael + kids, chim, and hen + karen + kids (nia is there <3 her family was killed in the initial monster attacks and henren took her in).

meanwhile, maddie ended up in a colony clear on the other side of the country. she escaped from doug (and a giant slug did everyone a favor and sat on him) and found her way to a colony consisting of the call center!! sue, linda, josh, etc!! they took her in and they're fambly ur honor.

at the 118 colony (what I'm calling it for the sake of telling them apart), buck manages to find maddie's colony on the radio and reconnect with her. his bestfriendbrother chim would sometimes hop on to chat and well. madney fall in love with each other over the radio. btw. just by the sound of each other's voices. if u even care.

and ANYWAY the plot happens when buck, desperate to be reunited w his sister, sneaks out of the colony to cross the country to find her colony. despite ykw. the horrors. (and I'm thinking this is kinda s1 buck where he's more goofy and less responsible and so bobby is sooo against him leaving because there's no way he'd be able to survive out there !?!? with horrific beasts trying to kill him every 5 steps !?!?) and chim catches buck sneaking out and they have the whole "please please don't get me in trouble" "I'm going WITH you lol" convo (and this is early s1/s2 chim as well because he feels out of place with the colony where everyone has someone to take care of (partner or kids) and he's also kind of afraid that even if he lives long enough to get to maddie's colony she won't feel the same way etc etc) BUT REGARDLESS. they both set out for maddie's colony and leave bobby a note that basically says "don't be mad xox" (bobby is, in fact, mad). however before they leave they're also caught by ATHENA. who actually decides to go with them because on god SOMEONE has to make sure they don't die in the first 2 miles. (and also she trusts bobby to protect her family while she's gone. btw. if u even care) so the team consists of chim, buck, and athena !! (I wanted to go for the maddie kidnapping arc kinda vibe....except chim is also there...)

ANYWAY. somewhere along the way they need to split up and so buck ends up on his own (but like they all know where they're going and all that so ykw. it's fine) and he. runs into a kid. off on his own in the middle of the fucking apocalypse. the kid (U KNOW) got separated from his dad and is trying to find him, and they were also traveling to a Safe Place in the mountains where it's too cold for most monsters to go but chris doesn't know which way to go and he wants to find his dad first. now buck realistically thinks that said dad is probably dead. I mean cmon. but he doesn't want to tell the kid that so he decides to bring chris with him (there's a certain point where chris and eddie were planning to turn north to the mountains and buck is taking chris to at least that point) and well. he doesn't really know what he's gonna say to the kid once they get there because he really doesn't think chris should be out by himself but he doesn't know how to tell him that his dad is most likely dead. ykw. angst. meanwhile eddie is traveling w a small group (haven't decided who yet) and DESPERATELY trying to find chris. and also, incidentally, heading to the Point Where He'd Turn North because that was the place they'd agreed to meet if they got separated. meanwhile chim and athena are also trying to find buck. everyone tryna find each other out here istg

ANYWAY chris + buck run into eddie's group and well. gay shenanigans ensue. u already know <3 (lots of similar elements to the existing apocalypse au.....because I care them...) and then they find athena and chim and then they find maddie's colony <3 buckley sibling reunion AND madney. double whammy <3 the colony maddie is at isn't very safe because monsters are getting close, and so they were about to leave to go to the Safe Place In The Mountains. buck chim and athena realize they should probably bring their colony there, too. so they head BACK to their colony (maddie and eddie go with them...chris was supposed to go w maddie's colony to the safe place but he snuck to go w his dad instead)

meanwhile back at the 118 colony, monsters have started breaching the underground bunker and so they were forced to leave and go aboveground to find a new place. the two groups run into each other and have a joyful reunion (buck + chim are now verifiable badasses who have survived for weeks on the surface btw <3) and then they all go to the mountain colony together. and scene <3

some notes: eddie has a sketchbook where he's drawing + cataloging every monster he encounters (sorta like. a How To Survive guidebook vibe) (because artist eddie is soo important to me) (it's for chris in case eddie doesn't make it so chris would still have a chance). also chim gets a dog companion <3

ask game

[jackalopes-pen]

Phone calls

Summary: Michael has been dead for a year now, and Pete is struggling with the death of his friend. He copes by leaving him voicemails, however he feels a wave or shock when someone returns his call.

Fandom: South Park ( aged up) | Goth kids (Henrietta Biggle, Pete Thelman, Firkle Smith, Michael ... Tall one)

A/N: First time writing south park fanfic! Lemme know if it is shitty or not, really trying figure out how to write these characters before I get a larger project under way.

Word Count: 1,281

Pete was well aware that this was not very goth. To leave voicemails on his friend's number that would never be heard was so stupid. He still did it, though. Still scrolled down to Michael's name and called waiting for the answering machine just to hear his voice. He still left some update on their lives and how the world still turned without him. He told answering machine about how that song he wrote hit the top 10. He told the machine that they were gaining popularity as a goth band, and that the name he suggested was the one they signed with. Sometimes he just cried after the tone, unable to process.

Today was so much worse then other days. Today it had been one full year since he died. He died to someone else's hand in a hate crime not even to his own. His tombstone read that he was a 'great daughter'. Fucking bigots. Pete kneeled down to the stone, and put a tapped note over daughter, reading now "A great son, friend, and unfortunate martyr." He would have apricated that, right? Pete stood back, on the path staring at the grave. He put the phone to his ear, staring down the flowers of someone who was supposed to answer.

One ring, two rings, three...

"Hey. This is Michael, I'm kinda busy so leave your name I'll consider getting back to you. Unless you're a conformist." the recording stopped with a tone. Leave a message... another message.

"Hey Michael, it's Pete. Just wanted to let you know that I came back to visit you," Pete could hear his voice breaking as he continued "Tried to fix that stupid mistake on your stone. Those conformists can't even let you rest in peace? They really are assholes. Anyway, call me back when you can. I miss you."

Pete slipped the phone back in his pocket. He wanted to stay at that grave for an eternity and hope something would change. It wouldn't though, he knew that. He talked himself into leaving, going to his car and driving to his shared apartment with Henrietta and Firkle. They'd probably get onto him for this and tell him to move on. It's hard to move on damn it. Give him time.. or more time.

"Hey, I'm back." Pete said as he entered their apartment.

"Went to visit him?" Henrietta said from the couch, writing something in her journal.

"Yeah, if you're gonna give me shit can you save it til tomorrow?" Pete responded, flopping down the couch beside her.

"Not today. I know it's hard and all. If this is how you handle it, then so be it." Henrietta said, clearly more focused on her lyrics.

"It's almost poser-ish is what it is," Firkle said emerging from his room with drum sticks in hand. "He's gone, let it go."

"It's easy for you to say! We were close, and I just-" Pete stopped his rebuttal when his phone rang in his pocket. He took it out and froze as he saw the caller.

"What's up with you?" Henrietta said, suddenly perking up.

"He's.. he's calling me back." Pete said, some mix of happiness and confusion and fear all churning in his stomach.

'Well, answer it!" Firkle said impatiently.

Pete did just that. He swiped to answer the call and quickly put it on speaker. He set the phone down on the coffee table, almost scared to hold it in case it was a dream or something. They all waited in silence, for whatever was on the other end of the call.

"Hey Pete, sorry I couldn't answer earlier. Whatever though. I'm at the good CVS on fifth, you need anything?" It was Michael's voice, loud and clear. The sounds of shitty drug store music were barely audible through the phone. It was him.. it had to be. "Hello? Are you about blast a chord again?"

"No, no. I'm here. How- uh... how are you?" It was pathetic but it was all Pete could muster. He wanted to say a million things to him, but couldn't find the words for any of it.

"Uh.. could be better, could be worse. You good, red? You sound like you're talking to a ghost." Hearing that old nickname was enough to break him a little on the inside. Only Michael called him that, and he still was calling him that.

"I'm- I'm good. Do you mind being on speaker? We're all here, about to start writing."

"Nah, I don't mind. Glad the band took off though, that's pretty fucking impressive."

"Your song helped us out a lot, I wish you could've written more." Henrietta finally spoke up.

"Yeah, you know.. not really my decision about the whole thing. I did hear you guys used my name idea. I thought it was pretty bad but, I guess if it works." Pete was so confused at this point. He seemed to know he was gone, but here he was on the phone. Pete almost wanted to run to the CVS and look for him, even though he'd probably find nothing.

"Hey, while you're there.. can you pick up some of those gummy bears? We're running low." Firkle said, tentatively. He was trying to play into the daydream.. maybe Pete should. Maybe this was the casual conversion they never got to have. That last talk.

"Sure, kid. Anything else? Hen, you still like those chocolate pretzel things right?"

"Yeah- yeah. I can pay you back for them." Henrietta was close to tears. It was rare that he called even them their actual names to their faces. These old nicknames.. it hurt to hear them again.

"You don't have to. Red, you?"

"Oh, can you see if they have Marlboro? I'm on my last pack." Pete felt the lump in throat grow. It was such a normal conversation, with a dead man.

"Sure, yeah. Okay, well I'll see you guys whenever. And, red?"

"Yeah?" Pete's voice broke on the ending constant.

His tone was suddenly solemn. "I miss you too, I miss all of you and I wish I was there. Thanks for the voicemails, I might try to leave you some."

The call was hung up. The silence was deafening, as they stared at Pete's phone until it turned to a black screen. It only reflected the popcorn ceiling of their apartment. In some ways, it was a relief to know he wanted to be here and in others a pull to Pete's heart that he wasn't. This could have been their everyday.

But it wasn't, and it never would be.

About 15 minutes later, the doorbell rang Pete almost prayed it was him but, it was just a CVS bag of what they asked for. One bag of gummies, chocolate pretzels, cigarettes, and a bag of the coffee that he used to brew before writing. Of course he'd pick that up, it was a writing session right? Pete noticed on the receipt, paid for with Michael's card, something else they asked for: more writing.

It was a complete song, and a that moment Pete was so glad CVS had insanely long receipts. It was a song about loss, comparing the death to crow that continued to follow the singer. The song went through the 5 stages as it continued, ending in accepting the crows presence.

It would take more time and thought then some lyric's on a CVS receipt, but Pete knew a hint when saw it. He picked up his guitar, and made a promise with it. This is honoring the death, because it did happen. It would only get easier to admit it, every time he played.

[wemlygust]

I was browsing libby, looking at popular scifi titles currently available to borrow from my library, and so many of these blurbs read like they just threw totally unrelated book titles into a blender.

Like, this here is Cloud Atlas meets Twilight meets Ready Player One meets Foucault's Pendulum, if it were written by James Patterson in collaboration with Ben Bova, with Naomi Novik on guitar. Perfect for fans of Michael Crichton and Susanna Clarke! And you know it'll probably match literally none of that description. And a lot of the books are obviously themed around climate change or reproductive rights, and the blurbs are like: In an afrofuturist noir vision of a near future that feels so close you can almost taste it, the brilliant CEO of Exobio Inc - a company whose mission to send all life to space as quickly as possibe before nuclear war breaks out surely won't go wrong in any way - has abandoned her teenage idealism and embraced a life of luxury. She owns 6 cars, 3 cats, countless spaceships, and one cozy Earthside house, which she shares with her beloved husband of many years. But things (drumroll 🥁🥁) go wrong! Our small, relatable hero who happens to be a CEO, is set adrift in a galaxy far larger than she, by events beyond her wildest imaginings. She must face betrayals, horrors, the obligatory dissolution of her marriage, the sudden urge to re-evaluate her life choices, and when it all comes down to the wire, a single looming question: just how totally and completely fucked are we?

I think the seeming prevalence of afrofuturism is more a function of my rad local library than it is a general trend (could be wrong). And to be clear I'm down for that, or for noir. I'm just tired of climate disaster news and don't really need it to be the focus of my longform entertainment that I'll spend hours and hours reading. And I'm tired of the way blurbs are written, and of protagonists who are much richer and more powerful than me, and of neoliberalism presented as the ultimate good without any genuine questioning of its tenents, and of forced conflicts that feel like they were just thrown in because the author is following 3-act film structure (which I am also VERY tired of) or their editor thought the book needed more drama, and of being told by a book's cover that the story will teach me the meaning of family and life and make me feel Emotions and Profundity or what the fuck ever. And I'm sleep deprived now, so I'm expressing all this in the most roundabout way possible. Anyway. This is part of why I seem to be stuck in a pattern of browsing regular fiction... browsing some more... checking out some books, maybe reading a little.... And then usually ending up thinking "I'd really rather be reading fanfic right now." It's where the market forces that keep things same-y ain't, I guess. Nobody is beholded to 3-act or otherwise standard (boring!) story structure, or to an editor who wants a romance sideplot added in, or to the author's idea of what might sell well, or to the marketing department's idea of what is publishable or what can never see the light of day, or to the small set of acceptable story length settings (series, standalone 300-500 page novel, short story, sometimes a novela if you're lucky) per the requirements of the publishing industry and the markets (and often narrowed down further by genre and by whether the author is a newbie vs already established &tc). I mean, there are definitely trends in fanfic, still; it falls into patterns and ruts and has room to grow or improve or explore more in some directions than it does, but at least those trends are directly controlled by the readers and writers (who are often the same people), with no multi-year delay between writing and publishing to slow everything down, and the mood of the day can change and evolve in a really fun way because everyone is allowed and encouraged to play with everyone else's toys and influence each other back and forth.

And writers are free to write anything - a love story one day, but maybe a horror or a mystery or a totally unhinged crack story the next - without having to worry about the personal branding concerns that make published authors write with consistent styles and themes and moods, only deviating from the norm their audience expects with the help of a pseudonym or three. And fic is SO much better organized, with our beloved ao3 tagging system, so I'll find something good or even great really quickly most of the time. And a lot of it somehow feels more human-scale, even when the plot is literally about a world-end threat or some ridiculous magical drama or whatever.

And I feel like people get to be happy more often, in fanfic. Couples can just be happy together sometimes - no misunderstand or big dramatic mid-book breakup required - and people hug each other sometimes. And if really bad shit happens to someone, it tends to have actual on-page consequences (vs. mr. Protagonist has just been tortured for 3 pages but don't worry it'll never come up again he's fiiiine) and/or they get some TLC after.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Ok hi Im back to talk about this bc I love to - how do u think todays performance was? I loved it even more than the late late version I think he sounds so good w an acoustic chorus. His voice sounded equally beautiful during that chorus. But also- is it just me or did he look like he couldn’t hear himself in the beginning. He was like messing w the earpiece

Hi! Sorry this is late!

First of all, for GMA’s smaller space, Louis planned for a softer, more acoustic arrangement. Isaac’s and Michael’s guitars are acoustic-electric hybrids, I think? Steve Durham only has a snare and a bass drum instead of the full drum set. Zak is playing on a xylophone! The overall effect of this arrangement is to showcase Louis’ voice and bring it forward.

The GMA mic sounds a lot “dryer” than on the Late Late show. The voice doesn’t reverb or “echo,” but stops in front of the air as quickly as it’s sung. Therefore, any “roundness” or softness has to comes from Louis’ mouth and throat. This also means that the mic will amplify every single sound around it.

For example, as soon as Louis starts singing, it’s clear that his voice is raspier than on LLS (probably from a lack of voice rest, smoking and alcohol at night… his bad habits 🫢). I hear more vocal jitter— the wobbliness around a pitch. A softer voice requires better breath control, and Louis’ voice was too stressed that early in the morning. Singers try to warm up before performances, and early morning performances are the hardest! Vocal cords are muscles!

The instrumental arrangement of the second verse is very, very pretty. The strings provide a warm wash of sound over which the xylophone is a bright ornament. The contrast between the warm strings, the deep/ round bass, the clear, clean xylophone, and Louis’ raspy, smoky voice is really what music in small spaces is all about, a study in beautifully blended textures.

(An aside: Bigger Than Me’s chorus is too big, too anthemic to play acoustically in a small space. The harmonizing vocals are too much.)

By the time we get to the bridge, Louis’ voice has warmed up and his control is much better. In fact, the segue (the two bigger than me’s) leading to the bridge are already much more controlled, steadier, the tone fuller, more luxuriant and supported, the throat looser and more relaxed (but the smoky vocal cords … still raspy! Bad boy, Tommo! Go to bed earlier!).

Louis sings the bridge with full command of his beautiful voice. Sometimes in a performance, it takes a bit of time for a singer to adjust the vocal volume to the ensemble (especially with in-ears in a foreign setting), but by the bridge, Louis has found the perfect balance. The harmonizing vocals have also been brought into line.

I think singing Bigger Than Me in different venues is a great learning experience for Louis. He smashed it at the Z 100 End of Summer Bash, but the Elvis Duran performance— in a tight space again— was rockier. It was also part of a very hectic schedule. In my opinion, nothing beats the Milan performance though. The world premiere of Bigger Than Me— the graphics, the lights, the pyro, the emotions in the air— it was all heartstoppingly poignant. I will never forget it.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half-Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Part 2!

Part 1 Lessons 1-5 Lessons 5-6 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

Okay, They’re Your Cousins but You’re Not Sure How They’re Related to You...

(Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke)

(It’s mostly Luke)

Barbs likes smol Lucifer. Smol Lucifer likes Barbs. They bake together with Luke. MC nearly set the kitchen on fire. MC needed to learn to cook.

MC is forever delegated to mixing duty because they refuse to admit that they don’t know how to work the oven.

Simeon is the one telling MC embarrassing stories about Lucifer and the rest of the Student Council from when they were all angels. Lucifer never hated Simeon more than when he found out that Simeon told MC about how hard Lucifer cried when he got to hold baby Mammon for the first time. MC was sworn to secrecy.

Well... sworn to secrecy, but if Uncle Mammon just happened to find out through a series of coincidences it wouldn’t be MC’s fault, right?

Simeon also tried to help teach MC to fly... but he kept distracting them with stories about Lucifer and Michael learning to fly.

“So my father was even WORSE than he told me he was?!”

“Yes, he actually challenged Michael and Raphael to a race at one point. Lucifer ended up slamming directly into a wall because he didn’t know how to stop.”

“SIMEON!”

Solomon was absolutely fascinated with MC. How did their half demon half human nature affect their reaction to certain spells and potions? Do half demons have more or less magical strength than normal demons? Can half demons make pacts with humans? Wait- Lucifer why are you taking MC away they were talking- Lucifer!

Immortal troll needs to troll. MC is the unwitting victim of many of Solomon’s shenanigans.

“Why must I speak in rhymes?! This is the end of times!”

“MC, just stop talking.”

“Father, I don’t mean to be a bother but-”

“So the rhyming spell works the same on half demons... interesting...”

“Solomon...”

“I’m leaving, Lucifer. I’m leaving!”

Aw! Two kids in the Devildom! They were fast friends. Sure, Luke was a little annoying and MC was a bit of a dick, but their mutual smallness and desire to impress their parental figures brought them together.

“Michael’s just so cool and amazing! The way he flies, the way he commands everyone... I want to be just like him someday!”

“Is that why you’re making a cake?”

“Michael has a sweet tooth, and I want to impress him.”

“I wonder if Lucifer likes sweets...”

“Why would you want to give HIM sweets?”

MC just gave Luke a toothy grin and started making the dough for the cake.

Remember back in Lucifer’s section where I said MC would keep their lineage a secret to freak people out? Yeah... they kept it from Luke. At first it was a joke! They were going to tell him! They just uh... it got really awkward. They planned on revealing it to Luke right after they learned how to properly fly so they could swoop in, pick their angel buddy up and zip the two of them to school. It’d freak Luke out at first, but it was meant to be funny! MC would have even sung the song from Aladdin! It um... didn’t turn out that way.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” MC growled at the lesser demons that were crowding Luke.

“O-oh... uh... nuh-nothing...” a few of the demons backed off, mumbling a few harried apologies to MC as they scurried away. The remaining demons seemed a tad more... hmm... they say there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.

“M-MC! You can’t fight demons! I’m an angel I-I c-can...” Luke sniffled, but tried his best to step in front of MC.

“Oh please, the little half-breed and the lowest ranked angel are going to put up a fight?” One of the demons jeered, a few of the remaining demons joined in.

MC’s eyes narrowed, their glare as cold as the worst winter storm. “I’m going to tell you once, and once only,”

Their wings sprouted from their back, horns now fully grown and on display, teeth sharper and glistening in the light. Hm, it seemed half demons could make their eyes glow too, how delightful.

MC gave the other demons a sweet smile, it would have been comforting if it weren’t for the amount of teeth they were showing off. They lazily placed their hand on Luke’s head and lightly moved him out of the way.

“Leave, or I will make you regret ever crossing us exchange students.” MC’s carefree smile couldn’t mask the malice that coated every single word that left their lips. “Run along now, you’re not needed here.”

The demon that had started the taunts stiffened, he looked from MC, to Luke, to the other demons, before scoffing and shaking his head. “Whatever, the two of them aren’t worth it anyway...”

When the offending demons weren’t leaving fast enough for MC’s liking, they snapped their fingers and shot a fireball right behind the fleeing demons’ feet. They cleared out pretty quickly after that.

“Luke?” MC turned to look at their friend. “Are you...”

Luke was backing away. That look in his eyes, he was... scared. Scared of MC...

“Y-you’re a d-demon?” He whimpered, taking another step back.

“Half demon, actually.” MC let their demonic elements disappear. “I meant to tell you, I really did! It just was never the right time-”

“You lied to me! You said you were human! But you’re a demon like the rest of them!” Luke shouted, he wiped at his eye with his sleeve and sniffled. “I tried to help you, but you just..! I thought you were my friend!”

“Luke- hang on!” MC took a few steps forward, but Luke was already running away. MC felt something twist in their gut, something awful. That ball of innate pride twisted and practically screamed, filling MC’s head.

“He’s not worth it!”

“You’re above him anyway...”

“If he can’t understand how perfect you are, he doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

“Don’t grovel for his forgiveness. He’s beneath you.”

“Your help was rejected. Let him hate you. You’re the child of one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, who is he to make you upset?”

The thoughts filled MC’s head as they desperately tried to shut them up. They were their father’s child, their pride wouldn’t be easily combated.

“Just be quiet!” MC clawed at their head.

“You’re better than this. You’re better than this. You’re better than this-”

“Luke!” MC called out again. “I’m sorry!”

It truly was a shame that their friend didn’t understand how much an apology from MC really meant.

They guessed Luke was right, wasn’t he? Demons were nasty awful liars. MC was no different...

That hurt.

Lucifer noticed his kid was moping around, not even Detective Toe Beans could cheer them up. Mammon even came home covered in mud from a failed money-making scheme and it didn’t even make MC crack a smile! He needed to get to the bottom of this.

Upon hearing the reason for his child’s woes, he was fully ready to break down the door of Purgatory Hall and throttle the little chihuahua, but Lucifer came to his senses and realized that MC probably didn’t want that.

He teamed up with Simeon and Solomon the things he did for MC... And managed to get both Luke and MC to the Demon Lord’s Castle to hang out with Barbatos.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Luke missed his friend too. Sure they called him a chihuahua sometimes, but they were still the bestest friend he had made during his time in the exchange program... maybe ever...

Maybe... just maybe... he overreacted. MC did protect him after all, and they never tried to hurt him...

Barbatos was fully ready to fulfill his role as Luke’s second dad and help his angel-son make up with his friend.

It may have been awkward at first, but the two had to join forces to stop Solomon from getting within a hundred metres of the kitchen. Nothing brings two people back together more than fear for your tastebuds.

Mission success. Lucifer could relax knowing that his kid and the chihuahua were back to being friends. Maybe MC could convince Luke to quiet his infernal yapping... Lucifer was trying to work here!

For some extra fluff, after many days of asking and asking, Lucifer and Simeon agree to take Luke and MC up to the human world for Halloween. They got to go trick or treating, and everyone complimented MC and Luke on their ‘costumes’.

*insert sitcom laugh track here*

Sure, it may have been a little immoral for MC to use their powers to manipulate the humans into giving Luke and MC more candy but... candy...

Oh shit would you look at the time- they had to get back to the Devildom for Diavolo’s birthday party- MC STOP WITH THE CHOCOLATE! THE SIGN SAYS TAKE ONE! DON’T BE LIKE MAMMON.

The exchange year had been a success. Well... sort of. MC wasn’t exactly the average Joe human the Student Council expected, which is why after a lengthy break where MC went back to the human world to visit their other parent and human friends, the seven rulers of Hell (+MC) were sitting and waiting for the new exchange students to arrive.

Unlike the previous year, the entire student council was present. That included Levi who they had to physically drag there, Belphie who was carried there and had to be placed in his seat because he was completely passed out, and finally Mammon, he just had to be threatened.

“Father,” MC pouted from their seat next to Lucifer. “Why isn’t my chair as big as yours?”

Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because you’re much shorter than me. You can have a bigger chair when you grow a few more inches.”

“Mmm...” MC murmured, crossing their arms. “Are the students going to get here, or what?”

“Can you be patient?” Lucifer asked. “They’ll be here any moment now. I can trust that you’ll behave, right?”

MC looked scandalized, placing a hand over their heart and gasping. “Father! Of course! I’ll be the most polite person these humans have ever met!”

Not so deep down, Lucifer severely doubted that.

“Come now, Lucifer and MC!” Diavolo said from his elevated seat. “It’s almost eight am!”

Right on schedule the portal opened, two sets of screams followed.

“The next big priority should be making the trip more comfortable.” MC huffed. “It’s demeaning getting dropped straight down like that and just slamming into the floor.”

“Hm.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Perhaps instead we can just teleport them up to the Celestial Realm, start a war, and have them crash through not one, not two, but all three barriers between the realms with no portal.”

“Father...” MC matched Lucifer’s eye roll. “That has the same energy as ‘when I was your age I walked to school 100 miles through a blizzard!’ The polite thing to do for the exchange students is to not let them hit the floor at 100 mph and possibly give them a concussion.”

And slam straight onto the floor the two other exchange students did. Well, one of them slammed right into the marble, the other had tried in vain to use their wings to slow their decent or fly back up.

Wait...

WINGS?!

WAIT THE OTHER HAD HORNS?!

THEY BOTH HAD-

Oh and would you look at that... one looked like... and the other looked like-

Shitballs.

Lucifer had to keep himself from actually shouting in frustration. One normal day... one day of no exchange student issues was all he asked for...

“Out of over ten million candidates out of over eight billion humans...” Lucifer grumbled. “How in my father’s name did this happen again?”

(OOOOOOOOOO SEQUEL BAIT!)

[archived-kin]

solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts. 

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness  that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.” 

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all. 

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

[cherrycocaineee]

13. Dean Winchester - Confession

    Bobby was sitting at his desk flipping through the millions of dusty, old, torn books he had collected over the years when I came down the stairs, carrying my purse along my shoulder. The sound of my small feet thumping against his creaky wooden floors caused him to look at me. He was already drinking scotch this early in the morning and the tired, purple bags under his eyes proved that he had a restless night just like usual. I smiled sympathetically at him as I approached, getting a large whiff of the liquor he was pouring down his throat. I could hardly count the number of times I’ve warned him and the boys about drinking so much, yet they never listened. Though I didn’t really expect them to, considering all of the things they’ve seen in their lifetime.

  “Where are you off to?” He asked, pouring himself another glass of scotch.

 “We’re low on groceries,” I hummed, “so I’m going down to the market to pick some stuff up. I’ll make breakfast when I come back, okay?”

   “I’ll hold ya to that. You need any money?”

 I shook my head and patted the side of my purse before leaving for the market. It wasn’t a long trip, it was literally a block from where Bobby lived. When I arrived at the small, yet vibrant place, I inhaled the sweet scent of freshly picked produce and other aromas. Inside I pushed the basket around and collected everything we needed for the house: fresh produce, meats, bread, eggs, and much more. Considering how much fast food I use while travelling with the boys, I was happy to find a place that sold freshly grown fruits and vegetables, and freshly cut chops of meat, and more. I spent an hour in total at the market before paying for my groceries and heading back to the house.

  While carrying all of the paper bags inside, I could hear talking going on inside. I shook it off as Bobby being on the phone and continued.

  “Bobby, I’m home,” I called, “I’m about to start breakfast, so why don’t you trade that scotch in for a cup of coffee.”

  The voices from the other room quieted down just as I placed the groceries on the kitchen table. I walked out of the kitchen and saw Bobby standing in the middle of the room with none other than Dean and Sam. My eyes widened at the sight of them. The last time I saw Sam was when he jumped into the cage, holding Lucifer in and knocking Michael inside too. And Dean, well, I hadn’t seen him since he went to live with Lisa and Ben. It had hurt a lot when he left too, not wanting to stay with Bobby. Not wanting to stay with me. But I didn’t make a big deal about it despite being madly in love with him. Though I’d never tell him that since he was in love with Lisa.

  “Hey, Persephone,” Sam and Dean said simultaneously, making my eyes water.

  “Hey,” I whispered, a smile forming on my face.

  I walked over to them and embraced them both, feeling their large, muscular arms wrap around my thin frame as they held me close. As I pulled away from the hug, Lisa popped her head around the corner. My chest was tightening as I saw Dean walk over to her. They went off to speak to one another, I cleared my throat and turned my attention to Sam.

  “When did you get back from hell?” I asked.

  From the look on his face and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck with his rough hands, I knew there was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell me. Or at least the truth anyway. But he decided that he’d tell me in the end.

 “A year, actually,” he muttered.

  My forest green eyes widened at his words. I spent the next fifteen minutes tearing a new one into both Sam and Bobby, who had been hiding this from me the entire year, then returned to the kitchen to cook breakfast. There was a mix of frustration, betrayal, and other emotions mixing up inside of me as I started scrambling the eggs and cooking the sausage and bacon. Quiet sizzling could be heard throughout the kitchen, masking the sound of my humming while I cooked. As I was moving on to the coffee, I heard footsteps coming from behind me so I swirled around to see Dean walking in. He didn’t look too happy either.

  “Did you just find out that Sam’s been back for a year too?” I questioned, throwing away the old coffee grounds into the trash.

 “Well yes,” he stated, “but that’s not while I’m upset.”

  I had started plating the food by then, starting off with Ben’s since he was here and was probably hungry.

  “What’s going on?”

  I set a cup of coffee down in front of him.

  “Sam needs my help hunting a Djinn,” he answered, “and I’m worried because the things might come after Lisa and Ben.”

  Honestly, I should have seen that coming. Sam, despite being back from hell, wouldn’t have asked Dean for help if it wasn’t life or death. It made me wonder if they’d only come to drop off Dean's family or to ask me to help. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t jealous of Lisa, in fact, I was happy for her and Dean. It just hurt every time I saw them together.

  “So that’s why you brought them to Bobby’s,” I whispered, buttering some fresh French bread, “so we could watch them while you guys hunted the Djinn?”

  “Well actually,” Dean said, placing his cup on the table, “just for Bobby to watch them. You’re coming with us right?”

  A small, sad smile appeared on my face as I lifted up Bobby’s plate while shaking my head.

 “I don’t hunt anymore, Dean. When Sam jumped into that cage and you left to go live with Lisa and Ben, the two of you left me behind. So I just stopped hunting. Now I just clean up and cook while studying.”

  “Studying?”

  “I started going back to school. Granted it’s online but I figured I might as well get an education.”

  It was silent between us, so I just walked away and headed towards Bobby with his breakfast. He was sitting at his desk once again when I arrived and graciously welcomed the warm food. I went back into the kitchen, where Dean was still sitting, and picked up the plate for Ben then headed upstairs to give it to him.

  Lisa was unpacking their overnight bags when I reached the room they were staying in. Ben was sitting on the bed, playing some video game on his gaming device. Tapping on the door, I caught their attention and smiled welcomingly.

  “Hey,” I said, “I’m Persephone, a friend of Sam and Dean’s. I made your son some breakfast if he’d like to eat.”

  A smile appeared on her face in return, “thank you, Persephone. I’m Lisa and this is Ben.”

  I didn’t tell her that I already knew her name, that would be rude. Instead, I shook her hand and placed Ben’s food down on one of the nightstands. He thanked me and started shoveling food inside his mouth fast. It reminded me of how Dean would eat when he was in a rush. Swallowing the forming lump inside my throat, I left the two of them to finish unpacking. Halfway down the stairs, I froze and gripped the railing tight. My heart felt like it was racing, tears were streaming down my cheek as I tried to collect myself. Wiping away the unwanted water leaks, I sighed softly and went downstairs. Sam and Dean were getting ready to leave when I made it to the main room. The two Winchester brother’s faced me when I entered.

  “You sure you don’t want to come, Perse?” Sam inquired.

 I held up my hands and giggled, “no thanks. You guys be safe.”

  I hugged them tightly, almost relaxing when I felt the safety of their embrace. They said a final goodbye to Bobby and I then left for wherever it was they were going to hunt this monster. Bobby returned to his breakfast and I went into the kitchen to pack up the leftovers and clean up. Once the kitchen was tidied up, I headed back upstairs to my room to get some reading done. I had some homework assignments that were in desperate need of doing before midnight tomorrow and I liked to stay ahead of the clock.

  Hours and hours passed before I finally passed out while reading my book. No dreams occupied my slumber while I napped, however, I was eventually awakened by the sound of someone knocking on my door. Stirring around in my covers, both eyes pried themselves open and stared at the dimly lit ceiling before looking to my right and seeing it was well past three o’clock in the morning. Another knock echoed throughout the room and I finally dragged myself out of the comforting quilt and onto the assaulting, cold floor. I rubbed my eyes to wipe the sleep away and pulled the door open. Lisa was standing on the other side, holding a plate in her hand.

  “Bobby said that you were up here studying, and you missed dinner,” she said, “did I wake you?”

 “Yeah,” I groggily whispered, “but it’s okay.”

  I took the plate from her and saw that she had cooked some chicken noodle soup. It smelled great, reminding me of my early years in life when I still lived with my mom. She followed me inside of the room as I sat criss crossed on my bed with the soup in hand, smelling the melted butter on the toast. My eyes met the clock once again and was astonished to see that I had slept and studied for such a long time. It felt like only seconds ago that it was morning and I had just finished cooking breakfast.

 “Persephone,” Lisa said while I slurped the soup up, “I’m sure you’re aware of the things Sam and Dean do, right?”

  “Of course,” I answered before scooping another spoonful of soup in my mouth.

 “How were you okay with it? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Dean and I understand that he’s gotta do what he has to, but sometimes I worry that he’ll come home hurt or something will follow him home.”

   Though there was a ping in my chest when she said she loved Dean, I couldn’t help but smile at how worried she was for him. It was something that he definitely needed since he was always worrying about other people. I placed the plate onto the empty nightstand and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to me. When Lisa sat down, I took her hands into my own.

  “It’s a lot to process,” I whispered, “when I met Sam and Dean, I was so unsure about leaving everything I knew to travel with them and fight all of those monsters. But I know deep down in my heart that they would never let people they love get hurt and they’ll die trying to protect those they consider family. Especially Dean. What you can do for him, is just be there, even if it’s hard. Because at the end of the day, he needs that most of all.”

   The two of us shared a hug before she agreed she would do her best to make Dean feel loved and secure. After saying goodnight to me, she retreated back to her room, closing the door behind her. When she was out of sight, I grabbed my soup again and slowly started slurping it up again. It was comforting knowing that she would be taking care of Dean. Once he came back, I’d persuade him to go back with Lisa, telling him that he deserved to be with someone that made him happy.

   The next day came quickly and I hadn’t fallen back asleep after my conversation with Lisa, so I spent the rest of the entire night reading. Soft, illuminating rays of sunshine burst through the clear, white curtains in my room as I finished throwing on a short-sleeve, white, shirt that only tied close. Running my fingers through my brushed hair, I fixed up any lumps that were visible.

  Bobby was asleep at his desk when I reached downstairs, so I went over to him and wrapped a blanket around his snoring body. Picking up his almost empty bottle of scotch, I carried it back to the kitchen to put it away and make a new pot of coffee. Wanting nothing more than to sit outside with a non-school book and my delicious morning nectar, reading as the sun played against my pale skin. There was no telling when Sam and Dean would be home, along with there being no way of knowing when they would wake up. So I wanted to get in as much peace and quiet as possible before the day began.

  With the coffee cup in my right hand and a good book in the other, I sat on the back of one of Bobby’s rundown cars and started reading. Four chapters in and I was already getting up to make myself a second cup of joe. Just as I slipped off the back of the rusted car, Dean and Sam pulled up. The sun was only just inching towards the middle of the sky when they arrived. Both climbing out of their seats, I noticed that they were not only tired but relieved.

  “How’d it go?” I inquired, “seemed pretty quick.”

 “It went fine,” Sam replied, “except Dean’s got a big slash on his arm. They came right at us.”

   I went over to Dean and saw that he had wrapped his cut in a cloth but the blood was still leaking through. Clicking my tongue, I shook my head while leading the two of them inside. Sam explained on the way that they had figured that the Djinn were targeting both of them, so they went back to Dean’s home and waited there. When Dean noticed that his friends and neighbors were being killed, he ran to help and ended up almost dying. But Sam helped him. The fight raged on but in the end, the Winchester boys came out on top. Sam went to wash up while I started taking care of Dean’s wound.

  With the First Aid Kit laying beside me on the kitchen table, I unwrapped his wound and gulped at the sight of it. Dean chuckled.

  “Makes you miss the old days, huh?” He laughed.

 “Not really,” I giggled, “a lot of it may have been great but watching the two people I cared the most about get injured was never easy.”

  “It was never easy watching you get hurt either.”

 I cleaned up the wound and sprayed some of the cleaning solution on it causing Dean to wince. It made me laugh because of how soft he had become in the last year. After rewrapping the wound in a proper bandage, I threw everything else away and put the first aid kit back in its rightful spot. When I looked back at him, I saw that he was staring at his hands.

  “Are you thinking about leaving Lisa and Ben?” I asked, returning to the table.

  “I’m not sure,” he stated, “if I leave them, more monsters could show up looking for me and hurt them, but if I stay then even more monsters will show up and hurt them to get to me.”

  “But at least you’d be there to protect them.”

 His perfect, bright green eyes met my own darker, emerald ones.

  “If you left Lisa and Ben today, then you would never be able to forgive yourself if they got hurt without you being there. However, I know, and Lisa knows, that you would do anything for the people you love. So maybe you being there is what’s best right now.”

   The words seemed to sink in before he nodded in agreement.

 “Then it’s settled. I’ll be going back with Lisa and Ben when they wake up.”

   I squeezed his shoulder and sat down at the table. Running a shaking hand through my hair as a soft sigh left my lips. I don’t know what came over me, all of a sudden I felt that maybe I should say something to him if this was the last time I’d see him. I had no intention of breaking him and Lisa up but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. It was practically tearing me up inside.

  “Dean, there’s something I need to tell you before you go,” I whispered.

 “What is it?” He asked, his eyes never wavering away from me.

  My palms felt sweaty and my throat felt drier than I had ever felt before. Taking a deep breath, I faced him and smiled. I chickened out.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  I went to go back to my room, but Dean grabbed my wrist stopping me from leaving. I clenched my fist tight and turned around, not ready to face him because I knew he could read my face like a book. He stood there holding my arm, not tight but not lightly so I would stay there.

  “That’s definitely not what you were going to say,” he said, “tell me.”

  With a final deep breath, I nodded my head, “I love you.”

  His eyes widened and he dropped my hand, letting it drop to my side. I felt it sway before coming to a slow stop. Then I held it to defend myself.

  “I’m not saying this to break you and Lisa up,” I said, “I want you to go with her and be there for Ben. But I also wanted to let you know, in case we never saw each other again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He croaked, and I thought that I could see tears in his eyes.

 I could only shrug my shoulders, “with everything going on, it just didn’t feel right. And then you wanted to go live with Lisa after Sam was gone so I just never told you.”

   Our conversation was interrupted by Ben and Lisa running into the kitchen, Bobby walking behind them, and embracing Dean. They were happy that he had come home with hardly any injuries. Dean wrapped his arms around them both but he was staring at me. I smiled sweetly, holding my hands in front of me while watching them be reunited. Lisa and Ben were ready to go home with Dean, and even though I knew Dean wanted to stay and talk more about what I had just confessed, I helped push him out the door. If he stayed any longer, I was definitely going to want him to stay forever. But I couldn’t be selfish. Sam, Bobby, and I stood at the front door and waved as the three of them drove off. When they were out of sight, my hand dropped. I felt Bobby place his hand on my shoulder and look at me with understanding.

  I wasn’t sure when the next time I would see Dean again, but I knew that it wasn’t going to be any time soon. And if I was being honest, I didn’t want to see him again. He needed to be with Lisa.

[cherryskyies]

The slashers reacting to their s/o passing out.

This was requested by anon!

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Pennywise, and Ghostface!!

“I was wondering if I can have hcs with Michael, Jason, Freddy, Pennywise and Ghost face reacting to their female!s/o passing out? Thank you”

I hope you and everyone else who reads this enjoys it!

Warnings: Suggestive nsfw with Michael. Not any actual nsfw though.

Main Masterlist

(Take this gif, it’s all I can offer photo wise)

Michael

Confused. One minute you were standing in the kitchen cooking dinner, Michael beside you leaning against the counter, and the next you were on the ground. I mean, honestly, he should have known you were going to pass out but he took your slow and wobbly self as the aftermath of last night (wink wOnk)

Stares at you. Michael will watch you for a second before taking any action. Once he realizes you aren’t getting up, he takes it upon himself to lift you and drag you to your shared bedroom. Michael couldn’t just leave you there, he isn’t a total monster.

Finishes cooking, kind of. This man can not cook, so instead of finishing up what you started, he takes it off the stove and stores it away for when you wake up. He might clean up a little, only if he’s feeling generous though. You were lucky he didn’t just leave you on the kitchen floor and eat some snacks while he waited for you to awake and finish dinner.

Jason

You knew what was going to happen before it actually happened. This isn’t the first time you’ve passed out, but it’s definitely the first time Jason has. You were on your way to the bathroom when the dizzy spell and black dots hit. You tried supporting yourself on the wall as you walked, hoping it would pass. Instead of it passing though, you passed out. The thump alerting Jason.

Freaks out. Jason freaks the fuck out. All he knows is one second you were getting up to use the bathroom, and now you were in front of him unresponsive and lying on the floor. Thank god for his mother though, she calmly informed him that you probably passed out, and to check your pulse and place you on the bed till you wake.

Doesn’t leave your side. For the 5 whole minutes you were knocked out, Jason didn’t leave. Hell, he almost crushed you with a hug when you did wake up. ‘You had him worried sick, (Y/N)!’ Next time, try to inform him that you feel like passing out so he doesn’t freak again.

Freddy

One of the few times he was in the real world with you. He was rarely ever in the physical world with you. Usually, he preferred when you two spent time together in his world. But sometimes you’d convince him to join you and he’d agree. This was one of those nights.

You were happily making popcorn out in the kitchen when it hit. You didn’t want to alarm Freddy or anything, thinking that it would just pass and you’d be good for the movie night you two planned. Well, you were wrong. Just as the microwave signaled for the popcorn being done, you fell. It wasn’t a long-lasting pass out, your vision cleared and you were awake once you hit the ground. That still didn’t stop Freddy from rushing in worried.

Scolded you for not telling him right away. “I may not show it as much as I’d like, but I really care about you darling and if you get injured because you didn’t tell me you felt sick or something, I might just have to keep you in the dream realm where you can’t get hurt.”

Pennywise

He was out doing his usual scaring and killing business while you were “home” cooking. The food was mainly for you as Pennywise didn’t need to eat human food. Every now and then he would eat some just to taste though. You were going for the spices when you slipped on a water pile and crashed against the floor, your head hitting against it hard causing you to pass out.

You were out for around 30 minutes, the feeling of someone shaking you awaking you. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Pennywise’s yellow ones. He was obviously worried and why? You had no clue as you were just starting to regain your senses. “Oh, hey Penny.” You greeted, to which he frowned. “Why are you on the floor, love? And why do I smell blood?”

That’s when it hit you. ‘You were cooking dinner and when you went for the spices and slipped on a water puddle.’ You groaned, the ache in the back of your head making itself known. “Haha, yeah I fell earlier when I was cooking. Sorry.”

It’s safe to say he was not impressed and contemplated banning your kitchen privileges, the only thing stopping him was you being the only one that knows how to cook.

Ghost face

You both should have seen it coming. He had scolded you multiple times today to eat, and each time you would nod and say “Yeah yeah, I will after I complete this.” You’ve just been so busy today that the thought of food totally slipped by you and he would always scold you about it when you were busy.

By the end of the night, you were finally done with work. And planning to keep your promise that you would eat something by the time he came home, you set your laptop down and got up to walk to the kitchen. Halfway to the kitchen, you felt light-headed and black dots blurred your vision. Too busy trying to stay up and walking, you didn’t hear the door open or your name get called.

Disappointed. He was disappointed, but not surprised. This wasn’t the first time (and it won’t be the last) you were too caught up in work to eat, even with the hourly scolding he’d give. This was the first time it got so bad you passed out though. Even though you were out maybe 20 seconds, he was still scared and promised he’d force-feed you soup the next time he had to tell you to eat more than once.

[cringelordlikesplaz]

A Thousand Stolen Moments

aw yea, another fanfic, featuring the one, the only, PlasDad. Takes place in the Terrifics run, some time after Luke Joins the party. A

Characters: Plastic Man, Phantom Girl

Warnings: Attempted angst? Fluff. also crying. Also you probably need context for... all of this, go read The Terrifics if you haven’t already. If you have, dive right on in.

The night air was chilly. Not quite cold, but not temperate either. A breeze would throw itself past every now and again, but Linnya couldn't care less. She chose to be intangible, in that moment, so the wind couldn't touch her anyway.

Her breathing came out harsh but quiet. She knew the chances of anyone else in the building hearing her were abysmal, but some sort of paranoia kept her silent. This wasn't anyone's problem but hers, after all.

Nothing had felt right after she came home. Not her old home, not her new home, not anywhere. Well, maybe that was exaggerating. Sometimes, things did feel okay. More than okay, in fact. Times where she could take in the sun and the sky and the fresh air and be filled with so much joy she might burst.

Linnya was very, very glad to be alive.

But sometimes... she wasn't.

It was hard to describe, the clinging loneliness that hung odd her mind like a shroud. She loved her friends, her new family she had found, but sometimes they were too much. The city, the planet, the noise, it was all too much.

And it wasn't their fault, she knew. It was all in her head, these lingering ghosts of a nightmare long passed. But no matter how many times she told herself this, it never seemed to stick.

(A part of her screams; she needs to go back, back to the quiet and the isolation and the never-ending despair. At least it made sense, then. No confusion or fear, the simple pain was easier to handle than all these complicated feelings. But that part of her scares her more than anything else, and she desperately tries to drown it out.)

She was locked in this loop of wanting and wanting and never being able to settle. Her skin didn't fit right anymore, not around all these people, the ones who knew her and the ones who didn't. She wanted things to go back to the way they were before, before the Dark Matter Universe, but with all the good things she had gotten when she was set free. She wants a world where both her parents were alive and weren't old and they both still loved her and with Michael and Rex and Patrick and Luke there too. 

She wanted to go on adventures but not be haunted by the feeling it could slip from her grasp at any moment. 

She just wanted to feel okay.

A blanket was abruptly dropped through her.

"Oops, looks like that plan was a bust." 

She turned in the air, and was greeted with the sight of Plastic Man, or rather Patrick O'Brian, swathed in a bathrobe and holding a steaming mug in one hand. His hair was ruffled, an odd thing to see when she was so used to seeing it slicked back. His goggles, which he almost always wore, were nowhere to be found. He was grinning, but it was clear he was tired, and the smile was crooked and didn't hide the bags under his eyes.

"Mornin' bud, what're you doing out here?" He said, taking a seat next to her on the cement steps. She wasn't actually sitting on the steps, rather floating an inch above them, but she didn't think that mattered too much in this instance. 

She glanced at the blanket that had fallen through her and fallen to the ground.

"You should pick that up. I grabbed it fresh out of the dryers; it should still be warm." He said.

Carefully, Linnya became solid and draped the blanket over her shoulders. And it was true- it was still cozy and warm.

"Thanks," She said, her voice quieter than intended.

"Here," Patrick pressed the mug into her hands.

"Hot chocolate?" She asked, finally looking inside the mug.

"Yup. It looked like you needed it." He said.

"Oh- I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"What? No, I was coming down to get food. I saw you outside and figured, 'Hey, she looks like she needs a warm blanket and some hot cocoa.' And here we are." He said. 

She swallowed, "Oh,"

"You okay?" Patrick asked.

"...Yeah,"

"That doesn't sound very convincing. We need to work on your lying." He said.

Despite her mood, she managed to crack a smile.

"Sorry," She said.

"Don't be sorry. You haven't even done anything." He said, gently bumping their shoulders together. The contact was appreciated more than he could ever know.

They sat in silence for a while, looking up at the starry sky. The sounds of the city were far away, like some other world beyond their bubble in time.

"...You wanna talk about it?" Patrick said at last.

Before she could answer he was speaking again, "It doesn't have to be with me, of course! Rex or T are good too, or we could get you a professional-"

"No, no, it's alright. I... I wanna talk now. If that's alright." She said.

He immediately shut his mouth.

"I- I just-" Linnya felt nonexistent water choke her throat. It bubbled up and up and up and began to spill out from her eyes.

She buried her face in her hands, strangled sobs escaping her.

A hesitant hand was placed on her back, quickly becoming more confident and soon she found herself tucked into Patrick's arms, crying on his robe, mug forgotten on the stairs.

She clung to him, because he was there, and he was real, and he was warm and nice and smelled like chocolate and he was muttering reassurances to her she could barely make out.

"I-" She hiccupped, "I was gone for so long-"

"I know, I know, it's not fair, you're okay, let it out," He soothed.

"And I'm never getting- I'm never getting those years back- I'm-" Linnya's words became gargled as she broke down into another sobbing fit.

She wasn't sure how long she cried. She knew it was long enough that the stars began to dim and light began to creep over the horizon.

When she finally got control over her breathing, her hot chocolate was cold chocolate.

"...Sorry," She said, wiping her face and nose.

"What did I say? You didn't do anything. You're all good in my book, kiddo." Patrick said, grinning.

She smiled, watery but genuine, "Thanks, Plas."

"No problem." He grinned and ruffled her hair, causing one of her hair pins to come loose.

She grinned back, and reached up to fix her hair.

"No, but, seriously. Thank you. I know you didn't have to sit here and listen to me cry." She said.

"Psh, yeah I did. What are teammates for?" Patrick said, "Besides, I would have killed for a shoulder to cry on when I came back, it makes sense to offer one to you."

She smiled, her head tilted just an inch to the side, wondering. Did he mean the Dark Matter Universe?

"C'mon. Let's go make some grub. I was gonna make something new today." He said, standing.

"Is it breakfast food?" She said, rising to follow him.

"Haha! No. It's dessert. Don't tell Rex." He said, winking at her before abruptly transforming into his usual outfit, goggles and all.

They went inside, the cup of cold cocoa left out in the quickly warming air.

[lokiondisneyplus]

Loki director Kate Herron’s heart was beating fast. She’d already had some surreal experiences during her short time in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, so a simple phone call shouldn’t make her nervous. But on the other end of the line was Owen Wilson, an actor and writer she admired and hoped would join her on a time-jumping journey through the MCU.

“It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him,” Herron recalls of wooing Wilson, who wasn’t too familiar with Marvel before being cast as Mobius, an agent for the mysterious Time Variance Authority central to the series.

Wilson instantly put Herron at ease with his laid-back charm as she walked the actor through 10 years of onscreen lore for Loki, the god of mischief played by Tom Hiddleston. She answered his questions about Avengers: Endgame, about time travel, about how this version of Loki was not the one fans knew from films like Thor: Ragnarok, but rather one plucked from an alternate timeline from 2012’s The Avengers.

It was all part of a whirlwind few years for Herron, who not that long ago was temping at a fire extinguisher company and struggling to land directing work even though she’d already helmed a BBC project with Idris Elba. Then Herron finally achieved breakthrough success directing episodes of the Netflix hit Sex Education and soon was hounding her agents for a Marvel meeting.

When Herron finally landed one, the Loki superfan cleared her schedule and spent two weeks putting together a 60-page document, even though her agents tempered her expectations by noting it was just a meet-and-greet.

“I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], ‘OK. I’ll just be the most passionate,'” recalls Herron.

Just a few days after officially landing the job, Herron found herself on a five-hour walk through New York with Hiddleston discussing Loki and flying to D23 in Anaheim to be greeted by thousands of screaming fans alongside Loki head writer Michael Waldron.

Herron is now working long days finishing up Loki in Marvel’s production hub in Atlanta, where the British filmmaker has largely lived since getting the job in 2019. Over Zoom from her freezing Atlanta apartment (she still hasn’t figured out the quirks of the air conditioner), Herron dives into Loki ahead of its June 9 debut on Disney+.

What was your process of sitting down with Marvel for this?

I was just so overexcited. [My agents] were like, “Look, it’s just a casual conversation, they just want to get a sense of you,” and basically I was like, “OK, I’m just going to pitch them.” Because I thought, they might not meet me again. So I got as much information as I could, and they sent me a little bit about the show. And I just prepared a massive pitch for it. I canceled everything for two weeks. I made a 60-page document full of references, story ideas, music. I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], “OK. I’ll just be the most passionate.”

Was that first meeting in Burbank?

That was in England, in southeast London on Zoom. I had a few stages where I did that. Then after a few interviews with Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, two of the Marvel executives who got me ready for the big match, I went in to pitch to Kevin Feige, Victoria [Alonso], Lou [Louis D’Esposito], the whole team there. That was very surreal because they flew me to Burbank and I pitched at Marvel Studios. I didn’t have the job, but I found out they were interested and then I remember Kevin Feige called me, and when he was in London, we had coffee. He was like, “Look, we want you to direct it.” Oh my God. They flew me to D23 and that was crazy because I think I found out I got the job 48 hours before, and then I was onstage. The Lady and the Tramp dogs were in front of me and Michael [Waldron] on the red carpet. “What is going on?” (Laughs.) I met Tom that week as well, so it was a bit of a whirlwind kind of thing.

📷Herron, Waldron and Feige at D23 in 2019.

Where did you first meet Tom?

I had a two-stop trip. I flew first to New York to meet Tom. He was in Betrayal at the time, on Broadway, so we basically went on this amazing walk around New York. I’d never met him before. We just spoke about Loki and what was really important to us about the character and where we thought it would be fun to take him, as well. It was this intense, five-hour conversation with him basically. I met him and then flew straight from meeting him to D23. So it was a lot. (Laughs.)

When did you finally get the scripts? How did that change your thoughts on what you want to do?

They sent me the outline, so I knew the overall story. I also was pitching stuff. “Oh, we could do this with this character.” The pilot was really well written by Michael and I really liked what they were doing with the character and the story. Then it was building upon that and throwing in ideas for where he could go later in the show. It reminded me a bit of improv where you’re always building, always trying to push the story to the best place. So we were always adapting and shifting the story. Our lockdown, during COVID, was a chance for us to go back in. I was cutting what we’d done, so I was like, “OK, this is tonally what is really working for the story.” Then we went back into what we hadn’t filmed and started adapting that stuff to fit more where we were heading.

The Marvel movies have a writer on set to help tweak things. Was that the case with Loki?

Michael [Waldron] was with us at the start, and then he went on to Doctor Strange [in the Multiverse of Madness]. We had a really wonderful writer called Eric Martin from our writers room, and he was our production writer on set. It was between me, him and my creative producer Kevin Wright. We would kind of brainstorm and adapt. I’ve always loved talking to the cast. We had such a smart cast. Owen is a writer as well. If you have that amazing resource, why not talk to them? We were always adapting. Obviously paying respect to the story we wanted to tell from the start, but always trying to make it better.

📷Herron on the set of ‘Loki’ with Hiddleston and Wilson.

Kevin Feige has said Owen Wilson, like his character, is nonplussed by the MCU. Since Owen isn’t necessarily dazzled by Marvel, does that make him all the more perfect for this role?

He is playing a Loki expert, so at the beginning of production, Tom and I were talking. He devised this thing called Loki School. He did a big lecture to the cast and crew. I love the character. This is a decade of fans loving this character and where that character has been. It was talking everyone through that, but through Tom and his own experiences. Stunts that Tom liked or costumes. He ended up doing that same Loki school for Owen. Owen absolutely loved it. Owen has such a writer’s brain. I remember I had to pitch him down the phone. My heart rate [was up].

Was this the pitch to get him to get Owen on board?

Yeah. I love his work. “Oh my God, I’m going to talk to Owen Wilson.” He’s so laid back and nice, it immediately puts you at ease. It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I think I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him. You can tell he’s a writer, just by the way he attacks story. His questions about the world and the structure and the arc of the character. It was really fun to work with him.

Was it the most detailed pitch you’ve ever done because you really wanted Owen, or because you knew you needed to woo him a bit to get him to sign on?

It was the questions he asked, and the way he attacked story, in that sense. And also probably because he was newer to the Marvel world, he was like, “OK, how does this work?” I also pitched him Loki’s arc over the past 10 years, where that character has gone, but also explaining our Loki and what happened in Endgame and time travel. There’s a lot to unpack in that conversation.

Sometimes Marvel will give writers or directors a supercut of all the scenes of a specific character. Did you get one of those?

They didn’t actually give me a supercut, but I’m a big Loki nerd. I think his is one of the best [arcs] in the MCU. I really wanted to make sure we were paying respect to that. At the same time, something Tom spoke about a lot was you have to go back for a reason. Let’s be united on what that reason is and feel that it’s worth it.

The reason can’t be, “Well that’s what happened in Endgame,” so the question becomes, “What is the point of revisiting him at this era of his life?”

Yeah. He’s only had — I don’t want to get this wrong — I think 112 minutes of screen time in total if you cut all his scenes together. And he steals the show. We have six hours to really delve into this character and talk about him and go on this completely new story with him. For me, it was making sure that [we’re] paying respect to what has come before — I know as a fan if there is a character I really loved and I found out they are making a show about him, I obviously would be so excited and so happy. I felt lucky to have the responsibility, and I took it very seriously.

Those who have worked with Kevin Feige say he’s someone who can stress test an idea and push things in new directions. What have you found working with him?

Something I always found was we would sometimes pitch something, and it would be at a good place, but he’d always be like, “OK, that’s great, but push it further.” Sometimes I’d pitch stuff and be like, “This is too weird,” and he’d say, “No, go weirder.” He wants to tell the best story and I found it really helpful having his eye across everything and the fact that he does challenge everything. Tom as well, on set. He brings this amazing energy and this great A-game that causes everyone to rise to the occasion.

How do you know when you’ve got the perfect Hiddleston take? Is he asking you for one more, are you pushing him to do one more take?

By the end, it was almost telepathic. We would kind of know. We would look at each other. “We could go again,” or, “We’ve got it.” It’s different with every actor. There are some actors who will come in firing and they just want to go for it. But they don’t want to do a million takes. There are other actors I work with who are very meticulous and they want quite a few to warm up and get into it. It’s actor-dependent. The way me and Tom are similar is we are both very perfectionist. We are both very studious. (Laughs.) We definitely connected in that sense. He’s a very generous actor. I remember one day, we had quite a few of our actors coming in as day players. It was really important for him to be there for them, to read lines offscreen. He would have to be 50 places at once, because he is the lead actor. The most amazing thing about him was his generosity. Not just to the other actors, but also to the crew, to be filming in a time like COVID.

When you make an Avengers movie, you get a big board with every character that’s available, and whether the actor’s deals will allow them to appear or if that would need to be renegotiated. Loki is smaller, but was there any equivalent for you? Was everything on the table? Was only some stuff on the table? I imagine if Chris Hemsworth has his own new Thor movie coming up, he’s not going to be on the table, necessarily.

I felt like everything was on the table if it meant it was good for story, and Marvel would be like, “We’ll work it out.” Me and the writers, we never felt restrained in that sense. Honestly, it always comes back to story.

What is your relationship with your editor as you finish this up?

We have three editors, Paul Zucker, Emma McCleave and Calum Ross. My relationship with all three of them is very different. Emma and me are very close because she was also in Atlanta away from home. I got to know her very well. I love working with the editors because it’s a fresh pair of eyes. You get so deep into something when you are filming, it’s almost like writing it again when you are in the edit. Stuff does change. Even some episodes, we’ve reordered the structure. Or we moved scenes from one episode to another episode. I’ve always loved the editing process. The best thing is someone honest who can be like, “Hey, this doesn’t quite make sense to me,” or, “This isn’t working.”

What are you going to do on premiere day? Will you be on the internet at all to see the reaction?

I’m actually working. I’m still finishing the show. My last day is the day the second episode airs. I’m going to be working that day. Sadly, I’ll probably check in on the internet a little bit, but I’ll probably go to bed when I finish because I think I’ll do a 12- or 13-hour day or something. I can’t remember. I’m really excited for people to see it and just to bring it out in the world, really.

Everyone wants to know about spoilers, but what’s something you wish you were asked about more when it comes to Loki?

Kevin Feige said, “We make movies. We want to run it like a movie.” So unlike a lot of television shows that are showrunner-led, this was run like a six-hour film. As a director, you don’t often get to do that in a television-structure show. I really enjoyed it, having a hand in story and just how collaborative it was. Also, just beyond that, directing the equivalent of a six-hour Marvel movie was incredible for me. That’s something I found interesting about it. Making something the Marvel way.

In terms of the themes, I love gray areas. The show is really about what makes someone truly good or what makes someone truly bad, and are we either of those things? Loki is in that gray area. It’s exciting to be able to tell a story like that. As a director and a writer, you don’t necessarily understand why you are making these stories. Something I keep getting drawn back into is identity. Sex Education, we spoke a lot about identity and feeling like an outsider but actually finding your people. I feel the same with Loki. It’s a show about identity and self-acceptance and for me, that’s also what drew me in.

Gray is a good way to describe Loki. Your version of Loki just tried to take over the Earth not long ago.

Exactly. This isn’t the Loki we’ve seen. How do we take a character that people love, but from a lot earlier, and send him on a different path? That for me was interesting, getting to unpack that. Alongside that, getting to set up a whole new corner of the MCU with TVA. That to me was so exciting.

What about the Teletubbies? You referenced that recently and it made quite a splash. Are you going to leave people in suspense on that?

I referenced the Teletubbies once and people were like, “What, Teletubbies? What does this mean?” Maybe I should leave people in the air with it. One thing I would say is the show for me, stylistically — I wanted it to be a love letter to sci-fi because I love sci-fi. Brazil, Metropolis, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Alien. If people love sci-fi, they will definitely see the little nods we’ve got across the show.  People will know what it was a reference for when they see the show. It was a visual reference to something in the show.

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. Loki debuts on Disney+ on June 9.

[mxpseudonym]

Peaky Blinders season 6 episode 5 spoilers below:

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Alrighty, after a couple of days, I can revisit episode 5 of this season. Initially, I just felt like I didn't have anything to say. It was very entertaining and is probably my second favorite episode of the season. However, with nothing cleared up and new things introduced, this episode solidified that it's literally impossible for the show to end in a way that I personally think is satisfactory.

Mx, why are you even still watching if you hate it so much?

I don't hate the show, and I'll also talk about that in a different post. For me, a show like Peaky Blinders is in the realm of prestige shows and lends itself to being critiqued, which can be part of the fun.

Alright, let's go.

I saw Finn for .25 seconds and I already love his wife who has no speaking lines. I'm guessing no one went to the wedding since she's getting introduced??? Another off-camera development, but go off I guess. Also, I knew in my bones that he was married when I saw him in the background during Ruby's funeral. But even more interesting, I read a fanfic at least a year ago that kinda called something like this with Finn. If I find it, I'll share it.

Ada is so confusing to me sometimes. Does she not like Finn's wife? Is that why she commented about being dragged out of bed just to meet her?

Duke is, I'm not joking, a top 5 favorite character for me out of nowhere. It's the way he can speak clearly about what he wants, whereas (and I know it's the point! I know and it's still frustrating!) few other characters seem to love themselves enough to put their own best interests first and then follow-through. My boy was about to WALK AWAY. He stayed because it worked for him, but he seems like he'd leave in a heartbeat. Have no idea why he's the dark child and Charlie is the light child but okay.

Speaking of which, that guy Staggs? I so wanted him to tell Tommy to fuck off. I'm at a point where it would be more interesting for Tommy to get told no once and a while.

I was foaming at the mouth, salivating at the idea of Lizzie uttering the words "I'm leaving you." And even though it didn't come, I'm glad she found out Tommy cheated on her. I mean, he literally has been this whole time but now she knows.

Michael, I'm loving how you consulted your mother. I love it.

I suddenly like Jack Nelson's character in that he's actually entertaining. I also love anyone who's trying to kill Tommy.

Hot take: The bathhouse scene saved the episode from the scene before it. I thought the whole killing the ref scene wasn't done well. It was way too fast, everyone's acting seemed off to me, I have no idea why the ref was important enough to get a whole narrative, and I genuinely thought Billy was faking his tears. Not to mention it was random "development" for Billy who I don't have time to care about. It made me laugh and say "what the fuck? is this a joke?" which I'd assume was not the director's intention.

I love Linda! That bitch is so fucking funny to me. Someone should write about her being a cult leader.

I have nothing to say about Tommy Shelby. We'll just see how this ends.

If this episode was like, season four episode 2, hell yeah. They'd be setting things up to come back around later in a well-thought-out way. I can't see the vision for how they'll wrap this up next episode.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy! 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

-

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street. 

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had. 

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys. 

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked. 

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books. 

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”  

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg. 

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met. 

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters. 

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again. 

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn. 

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice. 

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot. 

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice. 

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.” 

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?” 

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I��d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?” 

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went. 

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away. 

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground. 

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little. 

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger. 

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet. 

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you. 

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming. 

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair. 

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him. 

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.” 

-

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there. 

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel. 

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous. 

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice. 

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious. 

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed. 

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second. 

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.” 

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly. 

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered. 

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question. 

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches. 

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich. 

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table. 

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout. 

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin. 

“Is it any good?” Soda asked. 

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home. 

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other. 

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner. 

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over. 

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly. 

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up. 

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air. 

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.” 

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped. 

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention. 

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book. 

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended. 

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars. 

-

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest. 

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute. 

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement. 

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him. 

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red. 

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed. 

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered. 

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you. 

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces. 

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked. 

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step. 

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with. 

“Daddy?”

-

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere. 

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass. 

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you. 

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. 

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.” 

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf. 

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door. 

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door. 

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas. 

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.  

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you. 

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly. 

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with. 

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated. 

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again. 

“I have to, Sodapop.” 

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade. 

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you. 

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled. 

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged. 

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys. 

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes. 

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl. 

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette. 

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile. 

“You’re one of us now.” 

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right. 

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside. 

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen. 

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[diamondcitydarlin]

The kate used the trans community as an advertising pick-me-up anon here: It might just be me, but I'm semi-optimistic for the next season tbh. For a lot of reasons, but mainly:

It's clear now from the start Loki was never actually about Loki, it was about Kate and Sophia using personal nepotism to make it a vanity project.

They only really cared about making it about Sophia and her character spotlight over everything else. It shows how broken the show was that Marvel/Disney itself told them to go back and rewrite/remake parts to make it more about Loki and less about Sophia/Sylvie, and the fact Kate considered that a funny whoopsie.

Whoever the next director will be, whatever else that happens, at least they won't be marred with that massive favouritism, and will probably actually give the Loki show back to Loki. knock on wood

See, this is rather strange to me because in the projects I work on the director rarely has that much of an independent creative say outside of how scenes should be shot (but then I work almost exclusively right now on music videos, commercials, modeling shoots and those are jobs with clients that mostly say how a thing is going to be, though sometimes musical artists will choose their own director and give them a ton of creative leeway ok sorry I digress). I mean, good for Kate I guess that she seems to have gotten a good bit of creative say, just wish she hadn't used it solely for self-indulgence, terfism and nothing else. This is a show for, like, millions of people to watch after all.

But lets not let Michael off the hook too quickly; the Loki script was ofc based off of his original screenplay that incorporated a strong sexy kickboxing woman whose personality is 'pretend not to be attracted to the mediocre main male character even tho I am because the man writing this demands it' and it's rather clear to me that's where Sylvie came from. The original screenplay doesn't (imo) have main mediocre male character longing as openly for this female character as the final cut of Loki has Loki doing to Sylvie, so I guess I'm saying this smacks of a team effort to do some self-indulgent nonsense under the assumption that it would come across as good writing that multiple people could relate to. Or, they just said 'fuck it we do what we want', which also seems likely.

But the downside of of trying to tack on actual quality storytelling about Loki and giving him a relationship that actually enhances his character and his story rather than steamrolling it to make him into the perfect love interest is that the show comes across as terribly disjointed and, ultimately, a huge disappointment. The show that is set up in episodes 1 and 2 is not the same show the last episode takes place in. Nothing that happened in those two eps (or indeed in any Loki media to this point) had much or any bearing in what came after that.

I mean for fuck's sake, even the marketing and trailers and glimpses we saw don't match up to what we ended up getting. All these repeated shots of President Loki like he's going to be a focal character, maybe even a main villain- nope, he literally just cameos for 5 seconds, does some dumb shit, and then gets his hand bitten off. Scene after scene of Owen and Tom being centered as the show's main duo. KING LOKI THAT JUST TOTALLY DISAPPEARED.

But yeah they really wrote what they did and expected people invested in Loki's character to be happy with him being sidelined for someone we 1) have never met before, 2) is not even fully fleshed out in the 4/6 episodes she dominates. I mean, honestly, what? Loki is a character with a 10 year history in the MCU and a beloved fan favorite, marketing success. And yall really thought this was just...gonna be acceptable?

But I'm speaking as if these people actually care about fans, the fandom, and/or the integrity of a beloved character and the truth is they don't. The 'creatives' don't because why should they and the executives don't care until they're forced to upon the risk of losing money.

So I guess my hope is the same as yours, and more specifically, I hope that pressure has been enough to make the powers-that-be reevaluate the direction of the second season.

So yes of course, I hope more than anything that you're right. This show had every potential to be a great character piece for Loki as well as, idk, maybe one of the first Marvel properties that considered and more explicitly incorporated the queer experience as indeed I thought they were doing by ep 3 (not me thinking sylvie and loki are clearly gay twins, not me thinking their convo in the bar sounds so much like intimate, nonsexual conversations I've had with my gay friends, not me allowing myself to think maybe we'll get to see masculine/feminine intimacy that is not motivated by a sex and/or relationship at the end of the rainbow, not me seeing the 'found family' tropes and thinking it was part of this effort to tell a queer story-) and, in truth, that can still happen. I can easily see how it could still happen.

Remember, I've just been around a very long time in fandom and now that I work in entertainment and better understand the mindsets of the people who work within and dominate it, I have very little faith in the integrity of most shows I watch. For this reason I actually don't take on new media any more as often as I used to, but the Loki show came to me at a time when my family was going though a very difficult situation and my brain latched out of selfpreservation, I think. You need a hyperfixation, my brain said, and look at Loki in this impossible, dehumanizing situation, isn't it awful?? Isn't it almost like YOURS? But wait...Owen Wilson is here. And he speaks softly and he's so comforting and he actually gives a shit and I can see why Loki takes to him so quickly. (Also I was eagerly watching each Marvel show addition for hints of the X-Men and I'm still doing that smh)

Give me an impossible situation, a character that has hit absolute rock bottom and another character that reaches out their hand and says 'hey lets get you out of here' (my sole survivor x nick valentine from fallout 4 is one of these...Lokius Fallout AU when???)

Anyway. I hope you're right. I want nothing more than for season 2 to be the version of the show it should've been from the start.

[breakfaststuffs]

Fluctuations

Pairing: Bucky x Reader!Powers

Warnings: Language

A/N: I blame @angrythingstarlight for inspiring me to start this...thing. I don’t know what it is but I have done it. Lurker turned whatever.

Please, do not copy, translate, rewrite or post my work even if you credit me.

----------

“Fuck,” you hissed as you scrambled up the 6th flight of stairs in a desperate bid to outrun your pursuers. As soon as your eyes had landed on that tell-tale skull and tentacle laden logo, you just knew that things would go sideways.

Even as your calves burned and begged for a rest, you hauled yourself up the last set of stairs and spilled out onto the roof with a gasp of exhaustion and you made a wobbly dash over to the fire escape. Making one last adjustment to the straps of your backpack, you felt reassured that the weight of the stolen goods were still nestled between your shoulders and reached for the ladder.

“You should probably just hand it over, you know,” a voice stated simply from above and, in all of his winged-glory, Captain America landed softly on the rooftop a few feet behind you. Another half-second later, the person you had been hauling ass from silently appeared to the left of Sam Wilson and you felt frozen to the spot as his sharp blue eyes trained in on your face.

A bead of sweat trickled down your neck and you just knew that the wig you had worked so hard to affix on top of your hair was now very obvious and askew. You let out a breath you did not know you had been holding and let the reality of your situation settle over your shoulders.

Grasping the straps a little tighter to summon up your courage, you took a few unsteady steps to the side to be clear of the fire escape and then turned to dive off the roof. You heard a rush of raised voices behind you and a shuffle of movement before the world turned into a dark blur rushing up to meet you.

“Fuck!” you yelp as you dropped.

----------

Life has never been easy for you and, after coming back from the blip, it had gotten insurmountably worse.

Before the blip, you had managed to find security in your work and in your own personal life. The design firm you worked at was lobbing more work for high priority clients your way and there were signs that your boyfriend was close to proposing. You wished that you could share your accomplishments with your parents, but the fates had decided to remove them from the equation 3 years earlier in a sudden clash of metal and rubber that had permanently left a part of your heart hollow and numb.

The moment your life shattered for a second time was right after you had completed your usual circuit run around the neighborhood to help burn off some of the extra energy that had built up with the excitement of your sister finally visiting you in the city. Your sister was an hour out from touchdown and as you chatted over the phone with your boyfriend about dinner plans for the evening a sudden shock of cold settled low in your belly. Whatever words were on your tongue faded and drifted into nothingness.

The next thing you knew was you were standing in the same spot on the sidewalk with a gasp and were immediately bowled over by a jogger who seemed just as shocked as you were. From there, the disorientation only grew as the ripples of the repercussions of having the returned trying to find normalcy in a world that had moved on grew into tidal waves.

It was bad enough that your apartment and belongings were lost, your boyfriend had married someone else and the company you were working for had since dissolved. The true horror came when you realized that your sister had been flying 30,000 feet above the ground the moment of the blip. You had screamed until your throat was raw and the tears had gone dry as you realized your world had ended.

Thanks to government assistance, you had a roof over your head, but you were adrift in your loss and felt directionless for the first couple of months after your return. It wasn’t until you had saddled up at a bar that was one of your father’s favorite drinking spots did a sliver of hope crept back into your life. 

As you took another long pull from your glass, a gentle weight landed on your shoulder and the barstool next to you was quickly occupied by a sharp-dressed man with a disarmingly soft smile.

“Hey, [Y/N]. Did not expect to see you here,” the stranger said with a chuckle as he raised his hand to flag down the bartender. 

“Oh, didn’t really expect me to be here, either. But, sorry, do I know you…?”, you questioned with a thread of wariness stitched in your words. It also didn’t help matters that single touch on the shoulder was the first human contact you’d had in weeks. Deep down, you felt another layer of despair settle in the back of your mind.

“Ah, sorry about that. You see, I knew your old man and he was never shy about showing off how proud he was of his daughters. But, [Y/N], he really did go on about how special you were.”

You couldn’t keep the watery smile from your lips as you extended out your hand to his for a shake. “Well, glad to make your acquaintance…,” you left the word hanging as his hand grasped your hand firmly in his.

“Michael,” he said with a chuckle as he gave the bartender a quick nod as a glass of whiskey slid his way, “Nice to be finally meeting you.” He dropped your hand and snatched up the glass to raise it up into the air in front of him. “Here’s to your father,” he spoke as he took a gulp of the amber liquid.

“Yeah, to my dad...and all those we’ve lost,” you toast and raised your own glass to your lips.

“So, since you’re here drinking at 2 o’clock on a Tuesday, I am guessing that things aren’t going that well for you,” Michael pointed out with a sympathetic smile. Looking around the bar, it was clear that the majority of the current patrons were either in the middle of drinking their sorrows away or well-past an attempt at redeeming themselves. You had to wonder where you landed on that depressing spectrum.

“That obvious, huh?”, you sighed as you took another sip of your drink. “Everything that I worked for is gone and I don’t know how to even remotely get back on track. Just trying to get out of bed with a plan makes my head spin most days.”

“Well maybe I can help you start on a new path, [Y/N]. You see, your father sure could put away his drink and he had a hard time keeping his mouth shut when he got too two sheets to the wind. Now, he sometimes did a few odd jobs here and there for me and my associates over the years and it was bound to happen that he would start talking about you…” his eyes slid over to lock onto yours as he gulped down the content of his glass and, without breaking eye contact, threw the bartender another sign for a refill.

You had been in the middle of taking a sip of your beer when he dropped his insinuating remark and you suddenly found yourself wide-eyed and choking on your beverage. You heard him give a chuckle as you desperately tried to recover from the surprise and you shot a glare in his direction.

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m offering you a job opportunity that will land you enough money to build whatever future you want. I just wanted to let you know that your special skills make you a very appealing candidate.”, he said as he leaned over and gave you a few encouraging pats on the back.

Of course, the one person in her life that had ever discovered her abilities and swore to secrecy would have spilled the beans. She had fought so hard to hide that she was different and it wasn’t until her father had burst back in exclaiming he’d left the keys on the kitchen counter and found her lifting the couch easily with one had to pick up the remote at 16 did the secret get out. Once he had stopped gaping like a fish at her, the onslaught of questions and a never-ending stream of curiosity continuously poured down for years.

“How much did he say?,” you murmured bitterly.

“Enough to know that you can get the job done. Now, you weren’t the only one to take a few losses after coming back. Turns out a few of our properties fell out of our control while most of the family was gone. Word is that one of our old buildings downtown was hiding a bit of a secret in the basement that had managed to stay undiscovered until someone else started renovating our property.” Michael’s voice took on a bit of a hard edge as he wrapped up the last sentence.

“Seems like they are having a hard time getting inside, but we want to know what’s inside and for you to get anything valuable out for us. And that, my dear, is where you would come in.”

“Wait, why exactly do you need me? What is it that is stopping you from just walking in and taking it?”, you ask with words laced with suspicion.

“Your father always said you were clever.”, he smirked as he gave you a small toast in acknowledgement. “For whatever reason, we think the government might be interested in what is rightfully ours. Just in case they send in a more specialized cavalry, we figure it would be safest to send in one of our own.”

“Less collateral damage, yeah?”, you scoff as you finished off your pint.

“Exactly, [Y/N]. I knew you’d be smart enough to catch on. So, want to know how much you stand to make?”, he said with a knowing grin.

You took in a deep breath, set your empty glass on the bar and swiped a hand across your face in resignation. “Sure. What do I have to lose?”

“Nothing at all, kid. Nothing at all.”

----------

You let yourself free fall for a split second before you let your body’s density shift. You suddenly dropped down to the ground and, right before you would leave a crater in the pavement below, you made yourself as light as a feather. You almost landed daintily on one toe before you bolted towards an alley to your right. You were well aware that Captain America would almost immediately be airborne, but you were so close to a very noisy, pedestrian choked city thoroughfare two blocks over. 

Making sure you were light enough on your feet to gain a substantial amount of speed, you didn’t bother looking up or back as you booked it into the busy city street. Once in the throngs of people, you jerked off the wig you were wearing and shook out your hair with a grateful sigh. You unzipped your jacket to wrap it around your waist and then shifted the backpack to sit on the front of your chest. You hoped that it would be enough as you did your damnedest to nonchalantly make your way to the drop-off spot.

You kept waiting for the hammer (well, more like shield) to drop as you walked, but as time wore on nothing happened. By the time that you stepped in though the heavy double doors of a rather upscale restaurant and were led off to a separate dining room, you were almost in shock at how you had managed to get away with it. 

“Ah, [Y/N], our hero returns!” Michael proclaimed proudly as he stood up when you entered the room. He offered to take the backpack from you and wrapped his arm around you as he corralled you over to a table near the back window. Two more men were seated at the table and their auras were far-less boisterous than the man who gave your shoulders a warm squeeze before setting you down at the head of the table.

As he opened up your backpack and spread out the haul across the table, Michael gave a sharp whistle and the dour mood shared between the other men quickly dissipated. “Now these look rather impressive. Who would have known we were sitting on top of a secret stash of Hydra weapons all these years? I know this can’t be all of it. How much did you leave behind?”

You shrugged and you gave a gentle shake of your head at the question. “There wasn’t too much left, but there were at least two boxes I didn’t get a chance to go through before I heard someone coming. I was able to start running before they had a chance to realize I had broken the door down in the first place…” 

“Well, job well done. My associates and I are pleased with your work.” He flashed you a smile before reaching down into a briefcase to grab a couple of stacks of hundred dollar bills that he stuffed into your backpack. He walked over and dropped the backpack into your lap before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Let’s have a drink to [Y/N]’s success tonight and to our continued relationship.”

He gave your shoulders a tighter squeeze that was borderline painful as he spoke. You knew that you might be way in over your head, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. This was something different and it felt better than drowning in failure.

----------

The next day you found yourself actually happy to get out of bed. You damn near whistled as you brewed up a cup of coffee for yourself and you bothered to even clean yourself up for a change. When your eyes fell upon the backpack that sat upon your plywood table and you couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your lips. Things were finally looking up.

Taking stock at your lack of food in your apartment, you decided to grab a few of the bills out of the backpack and to head down to the local corner store that always had some amazing fresh produce out on display. With your stomach growling at the thought of food, you tucked the money into your back jean pocket and sauntered out the door.

You gave a quick wave to the owner as you grabbed a basket and started to peruse over in the direction of the fresh fruit. Spotting some jazz apples that were catching the morning light and your attention, you slid over to reach out and grab a few when your hand ended up grabbing at leather instead of an apple.

You blinked owlishly before jerking your head up to see who had blocked you from your potential breakfast. Any words you had died in your throat as your heart felt like it was seizing in your chest. A pair of steely blue eyes met yours and the expression in those orbs went from surprise then quickly morphed into something far more accusatory.

With your brain suddenly working overdrive and any rational thought flying out the window, you let out the breath you had been holding shakingly and brilliantly said the first thing that came to you.

“So, uh, come here often?”

Those eyes narrowed just a fraction more and you knew you were doomed.

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So, should I continue this or nah? This is my first...so please be gentle.