#Fishbowl Bones

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Fishbowl Bones

Jason Todd regrets a lot of things in life. He regrets how he hurt others in his Pit Madness and how he made Tim's eyes turn weary, filled with unease, like the younger boy is watching a bomb timer tick down.

Regrets how distant he feels from his family and from his friends like the part of him who knows how to socialize stayed buried in that blasted grave.

Regrets that his stupid teenage decisions lead him to his death.

Sometimes, in the darkest corner of his heart, he even regrets being taken in by Bruce. Hewonders what life would have been like if he had stayed on the streets, if he had lived as a regular unfortunate boy.

An earlier grave, maybe, but one that didn't have him come back broken like this. He would have just been another lost soul in the city, forgotten and remembered by no one, but free of the torment of fighting all his life.

It's not good to think like that, he knows, but Jason can't help the thoughts from racing through his mind on the roughest of nights. When the smell of gun powder, copper and sweat cloat him, as screams ring in his ears.

When his soul is soaked in blood.

It's hard not to think that.

Jason has so many regrets that when he stumbles across the Bracelet of Reverse on a mission in the Infinite Realms, he slips it on without second thought.

He knows the myth surrounding it. Apparently, it belonged to the old Ghost Queen, the unfortunate wife of the old Ghost King, who abused her for years with his ring of Rage and Crown of Fire. She created it to flee to a world the King could not reach.

This is a world in a timeline similar to the moment of her biggest regret—accepting Pariah Dark's proposal. She could correct the moment and live a whole new life in that timeline, trapped in a fantasy as Clockwork closed her in, caging her within her new life.

The time god made it a punishment for her overstepping into his domain, cutting that world off from the multiverse and letting it float in its solution.

"You gain what you wanted." The Ancient of Time said, "But you will lose what you had and could have had."

No one knows how her new world went—if Pariah was sealed or not, seeing as the Queen was the one to gather the Ancients in all other timelines—but the idea of correcting the biggest mistake of one's life was tempting enough that people scrambled for her bracelet, even if the world was a trap.

The very same one Jason stumbled upon. He uses the same one, ignoring the cries of his brothers, who watch helplessly as Jason slips it on.

The bracelet picks up the regrets from the darkest corner of his heart, and in a flash sends him away. Jason blinks, from one moment to the next, his world shifts and he finds himself a homeless child with a tire iron in his hand.

In front of him, rest the Batmobile all wheels ripe for the picking.

Jason stares, the weight of his choose, hanging in the air before he turns and runs. He runs away from his future, from the pain, from his salvation and damnination in equal parts.

He eventually stops running. Surprise, his feet take him to his Red Hood safe house. Right now, it's still the broken-down and condemned arcade because it's years in the past. Because he's there is no Red Hood, defender of Crime Alley, just a lonely, underfed boy standing in the middle of the room.

Outside, he hears the Batmoible race down the street, revving its powerful engine and fading away in the distance like his fading future.

Jason Todd, age thirteen but soul twenty-five, is no longer a Bat.

Life goes on, and he learns to survive the streets again. He trains his body to move as he used to, using his skills to not be a hero but a survivor, stopping crimes if they happen in front of him.

He never goes looking for danger.

Nightwing leaves the city, and Batman no longer has his bright colored shadow. There are times Bruce gets hurt when he shouldn't have because he was supposed to have back up there to help him.

Jason ducks his head and pretends to not see.

Then, one day, Robin returns because Bruce never learns. Jason expects it, having been counting the days as they move on. He's been in this world for two years and has built a reputation for being forcefully neutral.

He won't join any gangs, but he won't let them push him around. He steals from the stupid rich with the hacking skills of his past and sends it to himself as a false insurance claim for his mother. He bought the old arcade with it- under the table in a shady deal for far more then the place is worth- and slowly build his old safe house.

He's armed to the teeth, living nocturnal, only leaving his safe haven at night. Some street kids think he's a vampire, which is amusing. Jason doesn't try to go back to school. He has the money but none of Bruce's resources.

He can't fake grades or proof of guardians. CPS is a genuine threat again, and he refuses to give them a chance to try and drag him to those houses working as fronts for trafficking or, worse, the Court of Owls recruit centers.

Jason doesn't have a plan or goal to work towards. He has no friends, family, or even small connections. He sometimes goes to cafes with TVs, watching the news while drinking coffee. He also reads the newspapers, trying to keep up with whatever mission Bruce is working on.

Crime Alley citizens are weary and dismissive of him in equal parts. They know he's little Todd, but they don't know anything else, which scares them.

How is he surviving? Where is he getting the money? How does he move like that? No one knows, but they can see it—the skills of his past life resting just underneath his skin, waiting for anyone to test him.

Jason doesn't bother reassuring them. He doesn't bother with much besides the occasional food run, laundry mat visits, gas station travel centers with showers, and TV viewing in public spaces. He stays inside his arcade- still looking bad from the outside but homey and comforting inside- filling his days with books and building machines.

He just wants to survive—nothing more, nothing less.

The entire time, he wonders when Tim will finally snap and force Bruce to take him in. It makes sense to him that the only Robin who actively makes himself a vigilante would eventually become the next Robin. Tim knew Bruce's real ID for years before his death forced him to act.

This Bruce isn't that close to the violence he was when Jason died, but he's getting there. He is becoming reckless. Tim will be forced to act sooner or later, and Jason makes bets with himself on what night will be his debut.

He is not expecting someone else completely different being the new Robin.

Jason is shocked to see the hero re-appear, rescuing Tim Drake on TV, and realizes he doesn't know who this world's Robin is. Worse, his costume starkly differs from every Robin he's known. Jason risks exposal by breaking into the Batcave, having to avoid traps never before placed and hack the Batcomputer.

When he finds Robin's file, he is even more confused by what he reads. It makes no sense, especially for Bruce to bring to this level, for a Robin to have so little information.

Even Tim's clone friend Kon-El had a bigger file when he was first found.

All he gets is a name, an age, and a meta confirmation. (Even if the word meta isn't used yet in this timeline.)

Who is Danny Fenton, age fifteen, and why does he have Clockwork's amulet on his Robin costume?

Jason prays it's not because of him. He never asked for a rescue, and he won't go without a fight. He logs out, and slips though the back caves, mentally planning on hacking Lex once more to upgrade his home against "Ectoplasm" since that what this Danny's powers are based on.

Worlds away, the Waynes wait for the Ghost King outside a swirling portal. He went in to save Jason from a fantasy world before it could trap him in his worst nightmare. Before it made him forget his real life.

He may have to follow that world's rules and play whatever role the world needed him to, but the King swore he would find Jason and bring him home.

[eidetictelekinetic]

Have a bit of Dream and his Pasithea in the fishbowl, from chapter 2 of through streets and houses of gods you roam!

Has time become meaningless in this limbo? Or does it matter more than it ever has? The lover comes down sometimes. The younger Burgess called him friend as though Dream and Pasithea might have some opinion of a man who loved another man. Or, more sensibly, he was probably concerned about the guards. But still, the way their daemons stayed so close made it all so very obvious. And Dream told himself not to care, but Pasithea's jealousy of such contact is his as well, will he or nill he. And so Dream calls things as they are: the lover, Paul, he comes down sometimes. His daemon is a deer, hooves clicking on the stone as she follows him. Pasithea looks at her and thinks how easy it would be, even in a smaller cat shape, to leap up and sink sharp teeth into its delicate neck. As easy as it would be for Dream to destroy the human's mind, were he free. Is this your penance, mortal? they both think, the question echoing through their minds in the places where they join and the places where they do not. It is tempting, sometimes, to ask, but they will not give even that much, and as the years pass, being cut off from the Dreaming and the closeness of the amber obsidian sap their strength anyway. After June 7, 1989, it becomes ever harder to so much as blink. As if that last burst of wishing to be out, now, drained away some last vestige of energy, and without it they are even more trapped. It's infuriating. There's nothing to be done about it.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream is ambivalent about A/B/O genders. He's seen enough shit in the universe in billion years, current human civilization doesn't even come close to his definition of 'strange.' Still, he tried on various genders like clothes (he feels most comfortable being an omega), and even hoped in secret that Calliope would be amenable to mating when they got married. He breached the subject very tentatively, found out she was not delighted by the prospect of being tied to an Endless at all, and they never touched upon it again. Their marriage crashed and burned soon anyway, so it must have been for the best. After their reunion with Hob post-fishbowl, Dream decides to take him up on his offer to meet more frequently and drops by. The timing is unfortunate (or fortunate, depends on the point of view!) as his human alpha friend turns out to be in the middle of his rut. And maybe Dream is not versed in human communication and rites, but even he understands that it's better to leave and return next week. Which he is about to do before Hob very enthusiastically jumps his bones. Dream is extremely confused and tries to talk Hob out of this endeavor - he believes Hob is not interested in him like THAT, but Hob is as single-minded as only an alpha in a rut can be and showers Dream with all the words of passion and praise his fevered brain can come with. When he drops the l-word, Dream melts and gives in. They spend Hob's rut together, and Dream is on cloud nine: he feels cherished, desired, and, above all, LOVED. So when Hob suddenly bites him, Dream is not opposed at all. Alright, it'd have been better etiquette if they had discussed it beforehand, but Dream currently is more occupied being happy because 1) his love is requited; 2) Hob wants him as his mate! The problem is, Hob'd have never dared to jump his Stranger like that, let alone do anything to him. He hoped that if he's lucky, maybe he can try to court him…in 500 years or so. To him, all that occurred was just a feverish rut dream. So when Hob comes to his senses once his rut is over, he finds a very fucked out Dream looking at him with heart eyes in his bed, sees a fresh mating bite on his neck…and panics. Dream immediately comes to the conclusion that Hob already regrets their mating and dissolves into sand, retreating to the Dreaming before he starts crying in the presence of this human - his mate - that humiliated him so. Chaos ensues!

Oh dear. These idiots! They're both as bad as each other, really.

Hob is just horrified that he'd done that to his stranger - to Dream! It's totally taboo to bite someone without even talking about it, and they certainly didn't do that. Hob doesn't even know if Dream wanted it! Wait - what if he started crying and disappeared because he didn't want it!? Hob ends up running to the bathroom and throwing up at the mere idea. How could he do such a heinous thing to the man he loves?!

Meanwhile Dream is flooding the dreaming with his tears (yes, literally) because he thinks that his mate regrets everything and probably hates him. How can he face Hob ever again? He'll have to, because they're mated... if Dream goes into heat, he'll need Hob. Being without him simply won't be an option.

Desire, Despair and Death are all sitting in the threshold and collectively groaning because the idiots are idioting. And Matthew has had enough of trying not to drown in the dreaming, so he makes an executive raven decision and heads to the waking world.

He immediately confronts Hob (who is still panick stricken and white as a sheet) about why he rejected the boss?? And Hob just gapes at him like "rejected??? i thought i assaulted him!!!" Matthew face-palms. Face-wings. Whatever. He tells Hob to go the fuck to sleep and fix things.

Easier said than done. But Hob eventually gets to the dreaming, swims through the tears, and finds his poor miserable mate curled up on his throne. Dream doesn't look up at all until Hob nuzzles his mating bite. The flood recedes a little bit. And Hob tries to explain as tenderly as he can, why he freaked out when he woke up.

Dream falls even more in love with him, honestly.

And three weeks later, they spend Dream’s first heat with a mate together in Hob’s bed. It's everything he's ever wanted. And Dream gets to bite Hob, giving his alpha a perfect mating bite to match his own.

And yes, Matthew gets so many raven treats as a reward for his service to his King.

[murderballadeer]

tagged by @bone-collector-cryptid to make a little fishbowl of my blog with this picrew. ty!!

i'll tag: @kneadingwater @norashelley @leftenantjopson @carmichaelthepolarbear @absolute-nonsense-scribblings @nelson-riddle-me-this @budcortfancam @tennesseewillams and @alfred-st-john

[thedo0zyslider]

Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter Thirty Four: Deja Vu - 5k Words

Jimmy makes an alliance with Fwhip, finally gets a tour of Gobland, and has a strange moment right in the middle of it. Right when he thought the whole day would be perfect, too.

A03 Link

Fwhip sees Jimmy again soon after the dragon fight, but not too soon. At least a month or so has passed, and he’s done good work in Gobland. He wanted to see the Sheriff sooner, but he’d been a busy bee! The goblin had gotten more than a little fixated on his work, and it was quite easy to lose track of times in the caves. Actually, it might’ve been closer to two months, now that he thought about it….

But that two month time span doesn't matter now! Because he’s currently on his way to see the Sheriff, right now, as he’s thinking this! He’d decided that they’d been on good terms long enough, and had exchanged enough messages, for an alliance to be a possibility. So that’s why he was heading towards Tumble Town! He was gonna propose an alliance between the mesa and Gobland, two shulker boxes full of goodies with him to sweeten the deal.They held some of the best materials, the best rocks, he’d managed to find over the past two months. And some good quality bones and bonemeal from the bone farm he had! Everyone needed rocks and bonemeal! They were important for building and decoration!

Fwhip skipped along to the mesa, absolutely sure this offer would work. No matter what that anxious little voice in the back of his head said. Jimmy would have to be stupid to not accept the deal, or at least bargain with him, and the Sheriff was anything but stupid! He would certainly go along with the idea, certainly! (At least, that’s what Fwhip told to calm said voice in the back of his head. And what he also kinda believed.) 

He arrives at Tumble Town quicker than expected, his arms only aching a little bit from the weight of the shulker boxes. It seems his general excitement, and a new familiarity with the path to the mesa, had made his movements a lot faster; and he’d gotten here in record time. Fwhip skids down the side of the fishbowl, a little clumsier due to the boxes in his hands, and makes his way across the bottom of it until he finds the man he’s looking for.

“Sheriff!” He called out, spotting a very recognizable hat standing a few feet away. The blonde was leaning against a lamppost, watching something in the distance when Fwhip spotted him. At the call of his name Jimmy jumped, his tail swishing in surprise behind him, and his ears turned backwards towards the sound in fright. The goblin can’t help but giggle, and keeps masking his way towards where his friend rests. 

The Sheriff spins around, arms flying out a little to balance himself. Something he looks quite silly while doing, with his ears still pinned backwards and all that. The absolute goober the Sheriff could be sometimes, honestly. “Fwhip, hi!” He says, reaching up to fix his hat's position. Something he does a lot, the goblin has noticed, anytime the accessory moves even slightly. It must be a very important hat to him then, if it needed so much adjusting.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Sheriff!” Fwhip says, coming a halt. He sets the boxes down behind him, in what he knows is a half hearted attempt to hide them. Jimmy ignores the obvious boxes for the sake of the bit, focusing all his attention  on the goblin in front of him. Plus, asking about them would ruin the whole surprise, and that wouldn’t be fun at all, now would it?

“It’s alright!” Jimmy says, casually resting a hand on a hip. When he next speaks, he exaggerates his slight southern accent for a silly effect. Fwhip can;t help but smile at the sound, and has to hold back a small giggle or two. “What brings you to Tumble Town?”

“I have come to offer you a deal, actually!” The goblin says, tail swishing behind him with a sort of dramatic flare. He shifts himself further in front of the boxes, hiding the two tall stack behind his head just slightly. It’s the best he can do, really, without having thought out the surprise plan. He’d really just grabbed the shulkers in his excitement to get here, and had decided to improvise along the way. This was, rather sadly, the best he could do with improvising right now.

Jimmy looks curious, his eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Have you?” He asks, gaze pointedly avoiding the two shulkers boxes just barely hidden behind the goblin’s small frame. He’s being a really good sport about not spoiling the rather obvious surprise for him, Fwhip has to admit! Bravo Sheriff!

“Yep!” Fwhip said, dragging the shulker boxes out in front of him, his tail flicking in even more excitement than he had been feeling beforehand. He ignores the scrapping sound they make along the grass, and presents them proudly in front of the Sheriff. “You can have all these rocks and all this bonemeal! And access to my bone farm!” 

“In exchange for..?” Jimmy asked, trailing off at the end there. Despite that he eyed the shulkers excitedly, seemingly eager to see what was inside them. And Fwhip did let him have a peak, so the other would know he wasn’t lying about the deal or anything; and that the boxes really were full of a stupid amount of rocks and bonemeal.

“Just an alliance!” Fwhip says, watching as the Sheriff inspects each box in turn. He lifts both their lids open, and his eyes seem to sparkle at all the contents inside. The goblin, who had been watching the reaction closely, can’t help the happy grin that stretches across his face.

“You have yourself a deal then!” Jimmy snaps the lid of the second box shut, and reaches out to shake his hand. Fwhip takes it quickly, feeling his tail curl up in joy behind him. His foolproof plan had worked! Like it always would! Like all his plans totally did! Tumble Town was now Gobland’s first official ally!

“Great!” Fwhip shakes his new ally’s hand maybe a bit too aggressively in his excitement, but the Sheriff just laughs it off. He returns the energy of the handshake happily, also excited to have this alliance it seems, and causes the both of them to giggle at the force of it all. This had been a great decision so far, just like the goblin thought it would be.

“When I get my gunpowder trade set up, you’ll be the first to get some.” The Sheriff promises after their handshake, going to tip his hat for effect. His ears are upright too, a further indicator of how thrilled he is about this deal; even if his tone of voice and other body language is showing it less. The ears always betray emotions, something the goblin knows far too well.

Fwhip’s tail moves in joy behind him for what has to be the million time that day. “Oh that’ll be great!” He doesn’t even know what this gunpowder farm could possibly look like, but he’s getting excited about it regardless. He’s sure however Jimmy builds and decorates the farm, it's gonna be all western and amazing, just like he is!

“And I really have to see your empire now, if we’re in an alliance.” Jimmy adds, picking up one of the shulker boxes. Presumably to take it to his storage area, and dump all the materials off there. A much better plan than Fwhip’s had been, which was just to let them sit there or something. They weren’t his materials anymore, after all, and therefore he didn’t really have to think about what to do with them.

“You can come over whenever!” Fwhip picks up the second box, his arms still a little achy from the trip over here. But the pain was manageable. He’d carried far more materials across a dangerous cave in much worse conditions many of times before now. This really was nothing compared to that.

“Are you sure? Aren’t you busy a lot?” Jimmy asks, starting off towards the storage area with a shulker box now securely in his arms. Fwhip scurries after him, struggling to keep up with the Sheriff’s longer stride. He almost drops the shulker he’s carrying because of it, but manages to keep it in his arms, thankfully.

“Eh, I always need to take a break.” The goblin says, shrugging the best he can with the cargo in his hands. Jimmy notices he’s lagging behind after a minute, and starts walking slower; which the goblin greatly appreciated. The long walk back home would really suck if both his legs and his arms were already achy.

“I’ll stop by soon then!” Jimmy says, right as they reach his storage room. Which might also be his house. Fwhip isn’t too familiar with the layout of this place yet, which he was keen to change very very soon. They are allies now, after all!

Fwhip makes an excited sound in response, and sets his shulker box on the ground next to Jimmy’s. And after that, he spends the rest of the afternoon unloading and sorting them with the Sheriff, all the while they discuss when the Gobland tour will be. Tail flicking in happiness the whole time, Fwhip insists that Jimmy can come over anytime as they discuss it, and mentally clears his shedulce in preparation for it. 

They sort through the alliance gifts together, and Fwhip knows the next few days are gonna be horrible for the waiting factor, but will be so, so worth it in the end. It will all be so, so worth it when Jimmy can finally see the empire he’s so proud of making.

He just hopes the Sheriff will love it just as much as he does.

______________________________________

Barely two days later, the Sheriff finds himself standing at the entrance to Gobland. Fwhip had no idea he was coming, unless he’d checked the message Jimmy had sent when he’d left Tumble Town. And it had been over an hour since then, one with no response, so he really hoped the goblin had just seen it and forgot to message back. He didn’t wanna be rude about anything by barging into his empire unannounced. Even if Fwhip did do that to him all the time, so maybe the goblin wouldn’t think that's rude… 

He gets off Bullseye slowly, one of the two wild horses he’d taken in recently. He and his brother Arrow had been found injured in the mesa a month or so ago, and nursed back to health. Now they were the Sheriff’s loyal steads, furthering that old western look he had, and the current quickest way of travel. Minus elytra, which he hadn’t gotten around too yet. The End still scared him after their last rather disastrous excursion into the dimension.

The Sheriff shoots Fwhip a message, expecting him to take a minute or so to get up here. Let alone see the message. But, to his surprise, the goblin seems to sprint from wherever he is straight towards the entrance. He pushes open the big door less than five minutes later, and the Sheriff can only blink down at him in surprise while his brain tries to process the sudden appearance of his friend.

“You have a horsie!?” Is the first thing Fwhip says, gaze instantly landing on Bullseye. His eyes widen, and seem to light up like stars at the sight of the Sheriff’s trusty steed. Like he’d never seen a horse, or anything like it, before. Which, considering that he lived almost exclusively in a cave, was probably the case.

“Yeah!” Jimmy says, giving his horse’s side a small pet. He could be rather nervous around strangers, and affection tended to help calm him. He didn’t want the horse freaking out and trampling Fwhip, especially with how small the latter was. “His name’s Bullseye.”

“Can I pet him!?” The goblin asks, walking forward cautiously. He looks up at bullseye with a mixture of fear and curiosity, and still that sense of wonder lingering in his eyes. It’s like a little kid seeing a dog for the first time, his reaction is so wholesome. And also cute as hell, the Sheriff might add. Like, really really cute.

“Of course!”  Jimmy says, grabbing one of Bullseye's reins. He slowly moves the horse closer to Fwhip, giving him comforting pets on the back just in case. But it seems his worries were a little on the overprotective side. Bullseye seemed to be getting used to people more and more as the days went on, and actually seemed curious about the small man in front of him. Fwhip reached up slowly, and looked absolutely amazed for about five minutes as he pet the horse on his spotted muzzle.

“Sorry. We don’t see many horses in the caves, obviously.” Fwhip says, sounding rather sheepish. He runs his fingers through the horse's coarse fur, being very gentle due to his sharp claws. He’d feel downright horrible if he scratched the first horse he ever got to meet, especially one so nice too. Especially if it was one that belonged to Jimmy.

“Is this your first time seeing one?” The Sheriff hums, his earlier suspicions all but confirmed. He wondered what other above ground animals Fwhip, and by extension the other goblins, hadn’t seen. Which made him wonder what cave animals he also hadn’t seen before, and made him wonder how different they would be from the ones he was used to. Living underground and in the dark was sure to produce such different creatures from ones that lived in the air and trees and under the sun’s rays after all.

“Up close, yeah.” The goblin confirms, looking absolutely smitten as Bullseye starts to nuzzle into his palm. Jimmy smiles at the sight, and makes a mental note to bring Bullseye or his brother arrow every time he visits in the future. Even if he has elytra. The happiness on Fwhip’s face is absolutely worth a few more hours of travel.

“We have a whole herd in Tumble Town! You have to see them next time you come over!” Jimmy exclaims, seeing a spare fence post near the door. Probably for this exact reason, actually, since horseback was a common mode of travel for a lot of people. He ties the horse to it, and let's Fwhip get a handful more pets in before he directs his attention away. The Sheriff is sure if he didn’t do anything, the goblin would spend a week mesmerized in front of this horse.

“You mean it!?” Fwhip’s tail flicks in excitement for the first time all day, and Jimmy can’t help but he proud that his words caused it. He wanted to make Fwhip happy all the time, every day, because he loved seeing him happy. He loved seeing him so much he could hardly believe it. If he could make this goblin smile everyday fir the rest of his life, the Sheriff knows he’d be the luckiest man to ever walk the earth.

“Of course, they’ll love you!” The blonde says, deciding now is a good time to move his friends' attention back to the original purpose for today’s meetup. He was itching to finally see this cave empire that had been so personally hyped up to him over the months, after all. “Now, about that tour you promised me?”

“Ah, right, of course!” Fwhip says, hurrying back over to the entrance door. “But first, I also have a friend to show you!” The goblin says, and pushes the empire’s door open. And as soon as they step inside it, the Sheriff is greeted with what the clearly a rather large hog, one that has to be native to the caves for it to even be down here in the first place.

“Woah!” Jimmy exclaims, taking an instinctive step back from the rather large and intimidating hog now infront of him. “That’s a big pig!” This was probably how Fwhip had gotten here so fast, now that he thought about it, This thing was definitely fast as hell, he didn’t even have to see it run to know that. Heck, it could probably keep up with Bullseye on a good day.

“His name is Snort, and he’s my personal stead!” Fwhip says, sounding very proud of that fact. The boar is very clearly dear to him, if his flicking tail and happily perked up ears say anything. “His brother Boris is the Gobland ambassador of Animalia!” The hog himself isn;t actually the ambassador, as Fwhip will explain later. He just accompanies the actual goblin ambassador, but that’s basically the same thing to the goblin king anyways. The animal empire would probably like an animal representative anyways.

Jimmy blinks, impressed by the statement. He didn’t have anything like an ambassador yet, and should probably look into all that political stuff when he gets home. Even if politics aren’t really his forte . “Is he friendly?”

“Ohh he’s very friendly,” Fwhip says, walking closer towards his pet. He beckons the Sheriff forward, and Jimmy approaches slowly. He’s still rather hesitant, considering how big the animal is, and how he’s never been around anything bigger than a horse. “Loves being pet, too!” Fwhip is clearly inviting him to meet the animal, just like the goblin had done with Bullseye not even ten minutes earlier. So the Sheriff decides to get it over with, and meet a giant pig for the first time ever in his life. And it certainly won’t be the last.

Jimmy reaches his hand out slowly, hesitant as it gets closer to the frankly massive hog in front of him; one that could totally kill him if it wanted to. But Snort does not kill him, or even attack him, all he does is make a sound as the Sheriff gives him a scratch behind the ear. He seems to be enjoying the feeling, and Jimmy gives him a few more scratches before eventually pulling his hand away.

“Not so scary is he?” Fwhip asks, giving the boar a big hug. Well, the biggest hug he can give, with how big the animal is compared to its owner. And how small the goblin is in general. It’s still a cute sentiment regardless, and the cave hog makes a happy grumble in the back of his throat. It seems to be a big sap, just like it’s owner was.

“No, not really.” Jimmy says, smiling at Snort. He really wasn’t that scary, not after a few minutes at least. Even though he still had tusks that could one hundred percent impale a man and a bad case of resting bitch face. But, despite that, he was friendly, and maybe kinda cute. Oh, and also Fwhip liked him a lot, so Jimmy decided he would too. Anyone or anything his ally is fond of is a friend of the Sheriff’s, after all!

“And he’s gonna help us on the tour!” Fwhip exclaims, crawling up onto the saddle that rested on Snort’s back. Jimmy watched him in amusement, his ears flicking passively as well. Once the goblin has situated himself on the saddle, he points forward, and pulls on the hogs reins lightly. “Onward! For the grand tour of Gobland!” He exclaims, and then they set off deeper into the caves, the tour he’d been waiting for for so long finally starting.  

They start on a tour around the empire, Fwhip showing him nearly every building and telling him what each one’s function is. Jimmy appreciates the detailed explanation, but is a little surprised. It’s certainly more than he would, and has, done for tours of Tumble Town before. He also hopes he can remember all the information being thrown at his ears, knowing he’s gonna feel a little bad if he forgets on future visits; so he pays attention the best he can. Even if it's hard not to get distracted by the big flashy signs and complex railways.

The goblin tells him about everything he’s built in these last few months it feels like. The Sheriff is told about the blacksmiths and the stone masons, the most recent and profitable shops for the empire that Jimmy just has to check out some time because they have the best deals on rocks and tools. He tells him more about the bone farm he mentioned, and how successful the endeavor has been, how half of the other emperors are gonna get scammed when he changes the pass for it. But not Jimmy though, the Sheriff will never be scammed by his most loyal ally. He points out the broken cobble farm he’s proud of regardless, all the new roads that had been built, the rather impressive pen and barn for the pigs and hogs. (Much better than the horse’s pen at home, Jimmy does have to admit to himself He’s really gotta work on those building skills.) If, in his excitement, the goblin accidentally slips up and says something about secret railways while they put Snort in said animal pen, then Jimmy chooses to ignore it. Especially since one of those definitely not real tunnels is said to go to Joel’s empire, and the Sheriff totally does not want to take advantage of that. Not at all.

He listens to Fwhip’s whole ramble as they walk, soaking up every word he can. Even if the goblin is rambling, and talking much too fast for most people to keep up with. But Jimmy still tries to do so. He likes hearing Fwhip speak, likes hearing his voice. He thinks it's cute too, how the other emperor has a tendency to go on these passionate rambles, seemingly by accident, jumping from topic to topic as they flash across his mind. He clearly has a lot of love for his empire, his people, and all the recent improvements and additions, and the Sheriff can’t help but find that trait both admirable and enticing at the same time.

(He wants Fwhip to rant about him like that, one day..)

The Sheriff caught a small glimpse of Fwhip’s storage room as he walked past, a shine from inside it catching his eye. A pile of gold was stacked against the very back wall of the room, parts of the pile reaching from the floor to the ceiling, while other parts were just small piles of coins scattered across the floor. He only meant to observe the room for a second, but the universe had a different plan; it seemed. Ths Sheriff blinked once, and suddenly the storage room was replaced with another sight, another room and a different place in time, one that felt vaguely familiar to the Sheriff. But only if he really concentrated on the feeling.

He thinks this is a vision of somesort, and has no idea why one is happening to him right now. And when he had really wanted things to go well with Fwhip, too. But regardless of what he hopes, his vision goes black before he blinks, and then he is transported to a whole different place in time entirely.

A pile of what was presumably old and failed inventions crowded the corner of a study room. Some were broken and had missing pieces, while others were covered in rust. Parts of the pile almost reached up to the ceiling, and he'd never figured out why the failed items were kept, having chalked it up to hoarder tendencies. To each their own, but J̵̮̥̲̻̳̭̠̿͒i̸̡͕͕̓̍͋̿̚m̵̩̟̳͙̙̣͝ḿ̷̡̻̺̼̲̑͌͌͝ỹ̵̛̮̬̗͙̼̺̻̝̾̒͘ didn’t really see a point in keeping such junk. Maybe F̵̩̻̺͕͍͊̂w̷̧͙̙̭̯͎̲̒͊ͅh̸̢̦̹̳͙̼͐̈́i̶̧̯̙̻̳̣̲͝ͅp̸̺̰̣̻̓̀͐̑͑͛̓ was just reallt attached to his inventions, or saw some possible future use in them. Somehow 

The walls were lined with various blueprints in sketches. All of them were quite detailed, nothing J̵̮̥̲̻̳̭̠̿͒i̸̡͕͕̓̍͋̿̚m̵̩̟̳͙̙̣͝ḿ̷̡̻̺̼̲̑͌͌͝ỹ̵̛̮̬̗͙̼̺̻̝̾̒͘ could decipher, especially not at a distance. Or up close, probably, he wasn’t good with all that stuff. The papers were all clearly of varying ages, some just barely turning yellows while some of the blue sheets looked ready to fall off the wall. F̵̩̻̺͕͍͊̂w̷̧͙̙̭̯͎̲̒͊ͅh̸̢̦̹̳͙̼͐̈́i̶̧̯̙̻̳̣̲͝ͅp̸̺̰̣̻̓̀͐̑͑͛̓’s artistic prowess was quite impressive, and the ability to draw was something his fellow rulers rarely saw. Usually they saw his sketches when the drawings had been turned into full functioning inventions. One’s trying to kill or explode him or something, usually.

Jimmy feels his vision go black again before he blinks for a second time, and leaves the weird vision just as quickly as he had entered it. The strange study room was gone, and he was looking at the storage room and the large pile of gold once more. Fwhip was now standing next to him again, the little goblin giving him a worried look. ‘Sheriff, you okay?” He asks, hesitantly giving his vest a tug, careful that his claws don’t catch on the fabric. “You just kinda stopped walking and zoned out..”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jimmy says, shaking his head a bit. His vision seems to be spotty from his, well, vision he’d just had. Hopefully it will clear up in a few minutes, or this visit is gonna have to end early. He can’t really admire Gobland’s greatness if he can’t see it, after all. “You can carry on with the tour!”

Fwhip does not carry on the tour like his guest wanted him to. Instead he raises an eyebrow, and lightly tugs on the Sheriff’s vest again. His friend is still worrying, despite the Sheriff’s reassurance. (An admittedly bad reassurance after that, but whatever. It was good enough in Jimmy’s head, and worked on the people back in Tumble Town well enough.) “Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive!” Jimmy insists again, hesitantly putting a hand over Fwhip’s. That seems to convince him just a little bit, the expression of his face softening slowly. He lets go of the vest, his movements still reluctant, and Jimmy moves his hand away as well. The goblin gives him one last worried glance for a bit, but slowly starts up the tour again regardless. For Jimmy’s sake more than anything, probably. They move past the storage room, and go towards what else Fwhip has yet to show him. Even if there wasn’t a lot left to tour, really.

The tour is now just showing him small bits and pieces of the empire, and recapping everything as they head back towards the entrance. But with a lot less rambling this time, and a lot more digestible information. Oh, and Fwhip shows him where the bone farm he mentioned is, and also gives him a pass. A forever pass, as he calls it, tipping Jimmy off that he’s probably gonna scam all the rest of their friends with their own passes. Or that’s the plan, at the very least. And as the Sheriff, Jimmy should probably stop him from doing that. But no one’s actually been scammed yet it seems, and this is Fwhip , so he guesses that it’s fine for now…

Speaking of Fwhip, his occasional glances back at Jimmy for the remainder of the tour, ones that still held concern, do not go unnoticed. The Sheriff finds himself rather endeared by them, and cannot help the small flutter in his chest whenever their eyes meet. But Fwhip doesn’t need to worry, because he’s not lying. He truly is fine after the vision, other than being a little startled and put off by the whole experience.

To reassure the other, Jimmy does reach for his hand towards the end of their walk back. Fwhip doesn’t take it immediately, having to process what’s happening. But eventually, he does take the Sheriff’s, faces a little red, and gives his hand a squeeze. Jimmy feels his heart flutter at all of that, and squeezes back. Judging by the heat on his face, he’s pretty sure he’s turning red because of his goblin friend, and not for the first time either.

Fwhip is…. handsome. Cute in his own goblin-y little way. Enough to tug on the Sheriff’s heartstrings and make him blush ever so slightly whenever they would talk. It causes a new type of feeling to flutter up in his chest, one that is not unwelcome. It is just unfamiliar. And like all new things, Jimmy needs time to adjust to it, even if it is an amazing new thing.

Being so attached to a boy is also ….a new thing for the Sheriff, to say the least. Well, he knew he could be into other guys, he’d known that for a few years now; it’s just…different to actually be living it is all. Very different, when it's real instead of some fantasy. And especially when it's a short goblin king instead of any buff dude he’d been imagining so far. But not much can be done about that, really.

This feeling feels vaguely familiar if he thinks about it, kinda like how that room in that vision had felt; familiar . He doesn't know how or why either of those things feel like that, but the Sheriff doesn't mind it. It makes all the newer feelings feel a lot less scary. It makes being with Fwhip like this a lot less scary, which he likes more than he would ever admit.

The tour ends as quick as it starts, and they are back where they started at the tunnel leading to the surface. The tunnel who’s copper roof needs some cleaning, Fwhip notes, spying the rust on top of it. He also groans about having to get up there, and how many hours that would take him and how much honey he would need. Jimmy frowns at how disappointed his friend sounds, and decides to extend a helping hand.

“I can help!” Jimmy offers, taking a glance up at the tunnel’s roof. It would take hours for one person to clean this by themselves, especially a goblin like Fwhip. The roof is rather low down, to where Jimmy has to bend over a bit to avoid hitting his head, but the goblin would still have to do a bit of maneuvering to reach most parts of the roof.

Fwhip looks over at him, clearly surprised by the offer. “You really don’t have too.” He says, tail flicking behind him. He sounds so sincere, like he wouldn’t want to make the Sheriff stay any longer. Or make him do anything he wouldn’t enjoy doing. But Jimmy likes spending time with the goblin, and likes helping him out, so this is no big deal at all!

“I insist! It’ll go quicker with the two of us.” He says, taking another glance up at the roof. Two people really would make it go faster, considering all of the roof is either fully oxidized or halfway through the process. This would genuinely take hours to do single handedly, and would also be a horribly unpleasant thing as well. He would feel bad if he just left without even offering to help, or without making any sort of attempt too.

“Well, fine, if you insist.” Fwhip agrees, and then runs off to get the honey from his storage chest. He says he’ll only be a minute, and is true to his word. It feels like Jimmy blinks once and then the goblin is already running back, arms full of the sticky substance. This guy has to have like, super speed or something, or maybe all goblins are just fast. Which is definitely something to inquire over later.

Or his head is still messed up from earlier, which is also equally as possible. But again, that was something else to inquire over later. When this roof was clean and he was back at home; and therefore could properly check himself for any side effects or injuries that vision may have caused. He doesn’t think there are any side effects, but better safe than sorry as they say.

Fwhip hands him a bunch of the honey he brought, and they make quick work of the roof together, probably cutting the usual cleaning time in half. The goblin tends to the lowest parts of the roof, while Jimmy bends his arm awkwardly to reach some of the highest ones; the ones he has to duck to not hit his head on. It takes a bit to get each section clean, but it’s a pretty satisfying process. Even if his arm does start to hurt a bit in the process.

Fwhip even scurries his way onto Jimmy’s shoulder, reaching for the highest part of the roof neither of them can reach on their own. The highest point of the roof towards the entrance, where it opens up to match the height of the rest of the cave. Fwhip cleans it quickly as possible, and Jimmy tries not to think about the warmth on his shoulders. It’s nice that the goblin feels comfortable enough and already trusts the Sheriff enough  to climb on him like this; the thought making him feel all fuzzy inside.

Fwhip hops down once he’s done, and starts  heading back towards the entrance once again like nothing had happened. Though the happy movement of his tail betrays him, and Jimmy watches it fondly as he follows the little goblin back. He smiles fondly at the sight, and goes to hold Fwhip’s hand again. The goblin takes it instantly this time, and they both squeeze each other's palms once more; just like earlier. 

They end up outside Gobland’s entrance door once again, Fwhip giving Bullseye even more attention before the Sheriff departs. The two leave each other with promises to see each other soon, sooner than they had this time. Jimmy agrees to meet up in a week from now with a smile, and feels his face turn red at the beaming grin the goblin gives in return. They’d just set the date, and he already can’t wait for the week to pass.

Fwhip gives his hand one last friendly squeeze, and then lets go so the Sheriff can mount his horse. He calls out goodbyes as Jimmy rides off into the sunset, all the way until his friend has disappeared into the tree line and is no longer visible. The goblin ruler only stands outside for a minute after that, before darting back in the cave excitedly. He has to tell Snort and the other hogs all about today, just like he tells them about all the fun things; even if they can’t understand him. (They like hearing him talk regardless, Fwhip is pretty sure.)

The days before the visit will not go fast enough, even as Fwhip works to make them go faster. He cannot wait for that fateful day, and knows the excitement will bubble up inside him no matter what he does. He can’t help feeling like this, not when it comes to the Sheriff, and won’t try to either. Today had been the best day of his, and hopefully Jimmy’s, life so far, and he knows the next time they meet will be even better.

[ettaevie]

I got tagged by @fyodorkitkat to make a little fishbowl of my blog using this picrew, but the reblogs for the post were turned off. So I'm starting a new thread!

Tagging (with no pressure obvs): @archive-of-bones, @freshcupofangst @luneariann @qikirin @dandybabbler @2383-lines-of-code @sugarcarnationn @shardofsunrdofsun

[yurizzsblog]

Lyrics For Prompts

Fleetwood Mac - "Landslide"

"Well, I've been afraid of changin' 'Cause I built my life around you"

Bob Dylan - "The Times They Are A-Changin'"

"For the times they are a-changin'"

Simon & Garfunkel - "The Sound of Silence"

"Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again"

Nirvana - "Smells Like Teen Spirit"

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us"

Johnny Cash - "Hurt"

"What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end"

The Beatles - "Let It Be"

"And when the night is cloudy There is still a light that shines on me Shine until tomorrow, let it be"

Radiohead - "Creep"

"But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here"

Coldplay - "Fix You"

"Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you"

Queen - "Bohemian Rhapsody"

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality"

Eagles - "Hotel California"

"You can check out any time you like, But you can never leave"

David Bowie - "Space Oddity"

"Ground Control to Major Tom Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong"

U2 - "With or Without You"

"I can't live with or without you"

Adele - "Someone Like You"

"Never mind, I'll find someone like you I wish nothing but the best for you, too"

Pink Floyd - "Wish You Were Here"

"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year"

The Rolling Stones - "Paint It Black"

"I see a red door and I want it painted black No colors anymore, I want them to turn black"

Bon Jovi - "Livin' on a Prayer"

"Woah, we're half way there Woah-oh, livin' on a prayer"

The Police - "Every Breath You Take"

"Every breath you take, every move you make I'll be watching you"

Green Day - "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)"

"It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right I hope you had the time of your life"

Lynyrd Skynyrd - "Free Bird"

"If I leave here tomorrow Would you still remember me?"

Journey - "Don't Stop Believin'"

"Don't stop believin' Hold on to that feelin'"

[alittlextrathatway]

Line: "Show me the places where the others gave you scars." Location: CFD Christmas party.

Alright 5th and final part of the Firehouse 40 AU.

You can find the rest here: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

***

It’s been a while since Matt had an official date to a CFD function. The last time was with Gabby, right before that relationship completely fell apart.

Gabby’s moved on — in her personal life and her career — and so has he, but he forgot how much of a fishbowl the CFD can be. Especially, when a guy walks into a room with Sylvie Brett on his arm. Sylvie Brett in her duty uniform is appealing enough, but Sylvie all dressed up for a holiday party? She’s bound to draw a few slack jawed stares.

When he picked her up, he nearly had a heart attack at the first glimpse of her form fitting holiday red dress. It was low cut, with a neckline that reminded him if the top half of a heart, and thin straps framing her sternum. The way it emphasized her neck and collar bone left him with the urge to lean down and bite the graceful swanlike line her features seemed to draw. The fact that he’s managed to keep that whim to himself is a testament to his self control.

She’s gorgeous to him all the time though, even when returning from a call drenched in unknown substances. The image of her crawling out of the back of 61, just over 24 hours ago, covered in a poor kid’s vomit is fresh in his mind. Her first shift as PIC on 61 didn’t quite go the way she hoped, but she bore it like the consummate professional she’s always been.

That level of proficiency is sexy as hell to him. She faces the ugly stuff head on and never flinches or compromises in her empathy. She’s not only gorgeous on the outside, but the inside too. However, he recognizes he could potentially be biased. It comes from knowing her heart as well as he does, and from being fortunate enough to have spent the last two months sharing space with her at one residence or another.

So, he assumes most of the people in the room are staring because she makes such a striking picture, even when compared to all the festive Christmas decorations that surround them. It’s not until Sylvie quickly directs her gaze down at the floor and squeezes his hand in a vice-like grip that he realizes anything’s wrong.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Um, yes, but I need you to keep standing there, blocking me from view for the moment, and I also need to tell you something I probably should have mentioned by now.” When she looks up at him again, her face is pinched and her eyes are apologetic.

“Okay,” he says, bracing himself for a deep dark secret. Something that might flip the last couple of months on their head.

“You know the CFD Chaplain we’ve had for the last few years?”

“Yeah, Sheffield, right?”

She nods. “That’s him.”

“What about him?”

“Well, uh, we were briefly engaged a few years ago.”

Matt has no idea what to do with that information. “How briefly?”

“Just a month or so — until he suggested I should think about quitting my job once we got married and then I very quickly realized it was never going to work,” she confesses. “I should’ve said something sooner but I just — I mean how do you bring up a failed engagement in casual conversation?”

She bites her bottom lip and stares at him with wary expectant eyes as if she thinks he might blow up at her at any moment.

“Sorry I sprung that on you,” she whispers, her eyes leaving his and widening slightly. “But he’s headed this way and more than a few people in this room know I jilted him so we’re for sure gonna have an audience.”

He wants to tell her not to worry. He has no room to be critical of botched engagements or trying to make it work with someone who simply isn’t the right fit. His entire romantic history is full of those exact same things.

“Sylvie,” the Chaplain greets as he joins them.

“Kyle, hi,” she says with a too bright false smile. “Have you met Matt Casey? He’s a captain over at 51.”

“Your new house,” Kyle states with a nod, turning to offer his hand to Matt. “We’ve met a few times over the years. Haven’t we, Casey?”

“We have, yes,” Matt replies, suddenly remembering a conversation with Sheffield about where to take his new fiancée for her birthday dinner. Matt had given him a couple of suggestions but never followed up on whether or not he had taken them. In light of what Sylvie just revealed to him, he realizes she must have been the fiancée. “Been a while since you dropped in on 51 though.”

And now Matt understands why.

“You’re right. I promise I’ll work on correcting that soon.”

Yeah, he bets he will based on the moon eyes the Chaplain keeps throwing at Sylvie. For her part, Sylvie definitely isn’t returning them. She looks antsy and uncomfortable. Matt tries to imagine running into Gabby tonight and has to rein in a wince. Sylvie doesn’t know about Gabby. He imagines it would be just as awkward as this moment with the chaplain.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Matt says, pointedly threading his fingers through Sylvie’s. “Our chief and his wife are right over there, and Sylvie hasn’t had the chance to meet his wife yet. I don’t want her to miss her window.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Kyle says, stepping aside. “We can all catch up later.”

“Sure,” Sylvie agrees, still holding her blatantly forced smile. “We should definitely do that.”

Like hell they will. He doesn’t care that this man once had a relationship with Sylvie, but he does care about Sylvie’s unease. If she doesn’t want to be around Kyle, then she won’t have to be.

He leads her away from the chaplain, but stops just short of Boden and Donna.

“I am so sorry, Matt,” she immediately begins to ramble. Her nerves exploding to the surface as she talks. “I should have told you, I know, and I’m sure you’re furious with me but I swear I wasn’t trying to hide it. I—“ She cuts herself off when she realizes he’s smiling at her with with warmth and amusement. “Wait, you aren’t mad at me at all, are you?”

“No,” he states, chuckling slightly. “In the grand scheme of things, we haven’t known each other that long. There’s no timetable and learning things about each other.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking owlishly at him. “Okay.”

“And in the interest of full disclosure, you’re not the only one with a failed engagement under their belt,” he reveals, blushing slightly. “Personally, I have two.”

She gasps, eyes bright and full of mirth. “No way. You too?”

Her incredulity cancels out any shock he might have experienced from her news and he finds himself laughing at her. “Sheffield was fiancé number two?”

She nods. When talking about the chaplain she looked more embarrassed than haunted, but this first fiancé was clearly different. Worse. “The first one is why I came to Chicago. At some point I realized I was living his life, not mine. So, I left.”

There’s more to the story than that, he can tell. But she can have her secrets. She’ll tell him when she’s ready. After all, he’s yet to tell her about Hallie. If anything now he knows they both have scars that run deep, deeper than they may appear at first glance. It’ll all come out with time. Something he hopes they have plenty of if he gets his way.

He’s spent two months getting to know her — eagerly filling in the puzzle that is Sylvie Brett. He doesn’t have all the pieces yet but he has enough of them to understand the most vital parts of her. Her good heart, her empathic soul, and her resourceful mind. She impresses him more and more every day and, in truth, there’s no one he’d rather spend every second of his free time with than her.

His hands land on her waist, urging her toward him. She follows his lead, bring her arms up to wrap around his neck. Intentionally, he meets and maintains her gaze. “The guy sounds like an moron,” Matt tells her. “But if he led you here to me then at least some good came from him.”

“It’s funny,” she says, thoughtful expression on her face. “If I had a chance to go back and change anything about my life, you would think I’d use it, wouldn’t you? That I’d use it to spare myself some pain or humiliation or something.” She sighs contentedly, running one of her hands through his hair until it can rest at the nape of his neck. “But I wouldn’t.”

“No?” He asks, curious about where this conversation is headed. “Not at all?”

She shakes her head. “It’s too big of a risk. I mean, change any part of my past and…maybe I don’t find my way to Chicago, the CFD, or you. And I don’t want to imagine my life without you. Not if I can help it.”

The sentiment rocks through him like a seismic shock. It shifts his entire being and sends happiness like he’s never known breaking through the surface. An irrepressible smile overtakes his face and he can’t stop himself from kissing her. It’s a short but firm kiss. Maybe a little deeper than is perhaps decent in a room full of their colleagues, but he doesn’t care. Because in this moment he knows something with as much certainty as he knows the compartments on 81. Backwards, forwards, and with his eyes closed.

“I love you,” he declares. If he doesn’t say it now he’s afraid he’ll come up with a million reasons to chicken out.

Her breathing hitches and for a moment he worries he’s misread their entire relationship, but then the moment passes and she smiles so bright she nearly blinds him. “I — god, Matt. I love you too.”

“You do?” He asks in disbelief. “You really do?”

She nods, smile never faltering. “I really do.”

He kisses her again and this time he doesn’t give a single thought to who’s looking. Sylvie Brett loves him. She picked him. And he’s going to make sure she never regrets it, not for a second. He always wants her to feel as if all their struggles and their broken journeys were meant to bring them together — to believe being with him in the end is worth the pain.

Because that’s what he believes too. The disappointments and the losses hurt a lot less now that he knows they were preparing him for her.

[themirokai]

Hob turned at a landing and his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen this room, of course, but he knew it in an instant. Stone columns, a water-filled moat, and suspended from chains in the middle: a cage of iron-bound glass.  Dream was lying in the bottom of the sphere, naked.

After Dream gets stuck in a nightmare of the Fawney Rig basement, Hob and Matthew help him get back to himself.

Seven - A Dreamling & Matthew the Emotional Support Raven Fic by MiroKai

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or below the cut.

This story is a sequel to Loverboy, and while that isn't required reading, it does set up the relationships between Dream, Matthew, and Hob that I've delved into here.

Back in December I raffled off a ficlet in order to get to know new followers, and @icurlybooks was the winner! She asked for a fishbowl rescue fic, and while I didn't have any good ideas for a straight up fishbowl rescue, I was super inspired by Chapter 11 @ibrithir-was-here's Endless Heirs AU which everyone should go read right now. And instead of a ficlet I ended up with over 7k words and 3 chapters! The other two chapters will go up over the next week or so. Enjoy!

-----

It was getting dark, but Hob wasn’t worried. He continued along the path, using Dream’s pull to find his way through the Dreaming. Dream was probably just dealing with a nightmare, he assured himself. 

“CAW!” 

There was a flapping in the gloom around Hob’s feet. 

“Matthew?!”

“What the fuck, loverboy? You almost stepped on me!”

“Sorry! What are you doing just standing around in the dark?” 

Matthew didn’t speak for a moment and Hob squinted to try to see him in the darkness.

“You can feel him, right?” Matthew’s voice was quiet. 

“Yeah. He’s nearby. That way.” Hob pointed ahead into the murk. 

“Right,” Matthew said. “But I can’t get to him. It’s like… he’s locked me out but without a door. See if you can keep going.” 

Hob took a step forward and then another. As he passed Matthew he began to feel resistance, like something was pushing him back. Hob pushed harder and advanced. 

“There’s definitely a barrier,” he told Matthew, “but I think I can make it through.” 

“Good! Good. Go make sure he’s ok. I’ll - I’ll be here.”

Hob pressed on and the resistance decreased, the barrier apparently traversed. He became aware of the fact that there was a wood floor under his feet and walls around him. Another few steps and he was at the top of a staircase. He could see light flickering at the bottom. That was where Dream was, he could feel it. He took a breath and started downwards. 

Hob turned at a landing and his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen this room, of course, but he knew it in an instant. Stone columns, a water-filled moat, and suspended from chains in the middle: a cage of iron-bound glass. 

Dream was lying in the bottom of the sphere, naked. 

“Dream!” Hob dashed forward. 

Dream flinched at the sound of his voice, then sat up, moving like his muscles had forgotten how. 

Hob’s heart twisted at the flinch and shattered when he took in Dream’s body. Hob had seen Dream naked in a variety of forms, but never like this. His lover was all sinew and bone and muscle, as if his body had been stripped down to the least amount of mass needed to hold it together. 

“Dream…” Hob whispered, stepping forward more slowly. “My god, love, what’s happened? Where are we?” 

Dream brought his knees to his chest and hugged his arms around them, not looking at Hob. 

“I was in the Dreaming,” Hob continued, “I saw Matthew and I was coming to find you. Did I cross into somewhere else? Are you alright?” 

Dream’s eyes looked wet and he squeezed them shut, then shook his head. 

“Can you get out of there, love?” 

Still no response. 

Hob took a breath. This was wrong. That was definitely Dream in there and he felt certain that they were still in the Dreaming. He and Matthew had both felt Dream’s presence. He had to find a way to fix this. 

“Love, will it be alright if I break this? I won’t hurt you will I?” 

Dream hugged himself tighter and didn’t respond verbally but in the back of Hob’s mind there was a whisper. 

“Binding circle.” 

It didn’t happen often, but there were times when Dream couldn’t be bothered to speak out loud in the Dreaming. Usually when they were making love. Hob would just suddenly understand what Dream wanted him to know. This wasn’t quite like receiving direction on how Dream wanted to be touched, but it was familiar enough that Hob didn’t question it. 

He looked down at the floor and saw the circle of runes. Hob spit on it, then scuffed his shoe through it, leaving a large gap. 

When he turned back to Dream, his lover was finally looking up at him but was now visibly trembling. Hob pressed a hand to the glass. 

“I’ve broken the circle, love. Can you get out now?” 

Dream stared at him mutely, expression scared and miserable. 

Fuck. 

Hob took another breath. Okay. Dream had been teaching him how to manipulate the Dreaming. Hob closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to disappear the cage, but he could probably get himself a tool. It would have to be something that he could picture vividly. He thought for a moment. 

Hob had spent most of 1865 and 1866 in America, building the Transcontinental Railroad. His Cantonese had never been better. He could still smell the dust and sweat, still taste the horrible coffee and beans, and still feel the sledgehammer in his hand. Hob focused on that memory. From the thick calluses on his palm and fingers, to the grain of the wood handle, to the weight of the thing. 

Hob opened his eyes to see the trusty sledgehammer in his right hand. Perfect. He raised it and looked back at Dream. 

“I’m going to break the glass, love, alright?”

Dream gave a tiny, slow nod. That would have to be good enough. 

“Alright, move back a bit, yeah? I don’t want it to cut you.” 

Dream scrabbled backwards until he was against the wall of the sphere farthest from Hob. 

Hob gave him a reassuring smile, and raised the sledgehammer. 

He didn’t have to hit it hard: the weight of the hammer was enough to break through. The tricky part was wielding it delicately enough to open a hole big enough for Dream to get through without cutting himself, and without bringing the whole thing crashing down on them. 

He managed it after a minute, then dropped the sledgehammer, which dissolved into shadows before it hit the ground. Hob reached his hand through the hole towards Dream. 

“Come on, love. I’ve got you.” 

When Dream hesitated, Hob reached further into the sphere. The only part of Dream he could reach was one foot and ankle, but he gently wrapped his hand over the cold skin and stroked his thumb over Dream’s ankle bone. 

“Come out, Dream. Let’s fix this.” 

Slowly, moving without any of his normal grace, Dream inched himself out of the sphere and Hob pulled him directly into his arms. Dream was only as tall as Hob’s chin, and he sagged his slight weight against Hob’s chest. 

“Hob.” Dream’s voice was faint and cracked. 

“I’ve got you,” Hob whispered, stroking Dream’s hair and his back over and over. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” 

Dream was still trembling in Hob’s embrace. 

“How about some clothes, love?” Hob asked gently, wondering if Dream could manifest his robe of shadows or his star-filled coat. 

Dream made a small noise in the back of his throat but no clothing appeared. 

“Alright,” Hob soothed, rubbing Dream’s arms, “it’s okay. I did well enough with the sledgehammer, let’s see if I can get something.” He thought for a moment. “How about that throw blanket from my couch that you like? The soft blue one.” 

Hob closed his eyes and pictured the feel of the fleece blanket. Saw himself pull it off the couch and wrap it around Dream’s shoulders. When he opened his eyes, the blanket was there, enveloping Dream. Hob allowed himself a momentary flare of pride. 

Dream took a breath, and the trembling stopped. “Thank you,” he murmured. 

Hob wrapped his arm around Dream’s back. “Should we get you back to the palace?” 

Dream shook his head quickly. “The Waking. Please.” 

Hob frowned, but considering where they were, he supposed the request wasn’t surprising. 

“Of course, love. Can we tell Matthew that’s where we’re going? He said you had locked him out. I think he’s already worried sick about you.” 

Dream grimaced and a shudder ran through him. A moment later and the scene around them brightened. It was the same horrible room, just slightly less dark. 

“Boss?” Matthew was suddenly flying towards them but nearly stopped in the air when he saw where they were. “Holy shit! Boss! What the fuck?” 

Dream flinched and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Sorry!” Matthew said much more quietly as he landed and hopped towards them. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?” 

“We’re going to the Waking,” Hob said, drawing Dream closer. “Matthew, will you tell Lucienne?”

Matthew looked between them, his mouth hanging open before he collected himself. “Yeah, um, of course. Hob, what is going on?”

Hob glanced at Dream then gave Matthew a sympathetic grimace. “I wish I knew, mate. But we’ll figure it out. We’ll be at my flat. Come check in, in a little while, yeah?”  

“Yeah. Okay.” The raven’s tone was definitely not okay.  

Hob sighed. He knew Matthew was nothing if not resilient so he turned back to his primary concern. 

“Dream, if I just wake up will you come with me?” 

A tiny nod. 

Matthew hopped closer. “Boss, I’m sorry I startled you. I - I just… I just want you to be okay.” 

“I know, Matthew,” Dream whispered. 

Hob tried to give Matthew an encouraging nod, then forced himself awake.

Hob opened his eyes in his bed. Dream was still in his arms, naked and wrapped in the fuzzy blue blanket. Hob leaned forward to kiss his forehead. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “Do you want some clothes?” 

“Yes,” Dream whispered. “Please.” 

Hob pulled himself out of bed and over to his dresser, where he retrieved a thick sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. He helped Dream into them, then perched beside where he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“You don’t need to talk until you’re ready,” Hob said, rubbing Dream’s back. “But if you can tell me anything that you need or want, I’ll make it happen.” 

Dream sat with his shoulders hunched and palms pressed into the bed on either side of his legs. “Would you. Open the window?” 

Hob glanced outside. “It’s raining.” 

“I know.” Dream’s head hung lower. “I … the air. And outside. Please.” 

Shit, that damn glass sphere was airtight, wasn’t it? 

“Of course!” Hob sprung to his feet. “Of course.” 

When Hob returned to the bed, Dream was laying down with his eyes closed. Hob was about to head for the armchair in the corner when thin fingers closed around his wrist. 

“Hold me?” 

Hob smiled and climbed back into bed. 

Hob wasn’t sure how long he dozed, holding Dream’s body against his and listening to the rain. 

“There are seven.” 

Hob stirred himself. “Seven?” 

“Seven people. Living. Who saw me. In the cage.” 

Hob was wide awake now and listening intently, his arms tight around Dream’s chest. 

“The guards were told that I was a dangerous monster. Trapped in a human form in the cage. But a danger to all mankind if I ever escaped.” 

Dream was faced away from him and Hob placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder blade. 

“I did nothing to disabuse them of this notion. It was, after all, largely correct.” 

Hob pressed his forehead against Dream’s back. 

“They all dream of me sometimes.”

Hob felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn’t thought of that. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Dream had told him that Burgess had been punished, but what of the guards?

“At first I was distracted by the search for my tools and rebuilding the Dreaming and then Rose. And lately their dreams of me are mostly nightmares in which a monstrous facsimile of me stalks and preys upon them.” 

Good, Hob thought. He hoped they were terrified to close their eyes. 

“But one of them. Dreamed the actual memory of me and I -” 

Dream curled into himself, squeezed his eyes shut. 

Hob pulled him closer. “It’s alright,” he murmured. 

“I got caught in it!” Dream’s voice was a harsh whisper. “Ridiculous and weak. It was a dream! The paltry dream of a mortal human!” 

Hob freed one of his hands to stroke Dream’s hair. “It wasn’t just a dream though, was it? It was a memory. Your memory of something horrible. There must be precious few mortals in creation who have ever been able to do that to you. And it sounds like there are only seven - in the entire universe - who can do it now. Of course it caught you off guard, love.” 

Hob pressed more kisses to Dream’s shoulder, and Dream gave a shuddering breath but seemed to relax a little. 

“I only managed to push the dreamer out and close myself off before I was lost in it,” he murmured after a moment. 

“You will never stay lost for long again, Dream. I promise you.” Resolve tightened in Hob’s gut. He would keep that promise. 

Dream squeezed Hob’s arm in acknowledgment, and they let the silence stretch. 

“Um, tap tap?” 

Hob and Dream both started and looked up at the window to find a very wet Matthew standing on the sill. 

“Sorry,” Matthew said, ducking his head, “I would normally tap on the glass but it’s open so… can I come in?” 

“Yes, Matthew,” Dream said, pushing himself up to sit. 

Matthew shook himself vigorously, fluffing out his feathers and spraying water over the sill. He looked around him with an expression Hob had come to recognize as embarrassment. 

“Uh, sorry Hob.” 

Hob, now leaning against the headboard, gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Matthew flew to the foot of the bed where he perched. 

“Boss? Are you okay?” 

“I am… better. Than I was.” 

“Good! Good. Um.” Matthew shifted from foot to foot. “Can I … ask what happened?” 

Dream pinched the bridge of his nose. “One of the people who guarded my prison dreamed of the memory of me and I was … caught in the dream.”

“Oh shit,” Matthew said quietly, hopping closer to Dream. “That must have been terrible. I’m so sorry.” 

Dream grimaced and swallowed, then reached forward to stroke a finger over Matthew’s head. 

“Do you know why I was locked out but Hob wasn’t?” Matthew asked. 

Dream gave a shuddering sigh. “I did that.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“What? Why? Boss, I could have helped you.” 

Hob noted with approval that Matthew kept his tone gentle. 

“Jessamy tried to help me,” Dream whispered, drawing into himself. 

“Oh, Boss,” Matthew’s voice cracked with emotion and he hopped into Dream’s lap. 

Dream gathered the raven into his arms. “I could not bear to see you killed, Matthew.” 

Matthew pressed the top of his head against Dream’s chest. “I get it. I’m so sorry you went through that, Boss. But I’m here and you’re here, and it’s gonna be okay.” 

Hob moved closer to Dream so that their sides were touching, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned over to kiss Dream’s hair. 

Matthew looked up after a beat. “I guess knowing your boyfriend can’t die has some advantages huh?” 

Hob chuckled. “One or two.” 

They sat quietly for several minutes, Hob holding Dream and Dream stroking Matthew, before Matthew spoke up again. 

“So how do we make sure this doesn’t happen again? Or if it does happen, how do we get you out quicker?” 

Hob cleared his throat. “I have an idea for the former.” 

Both Matthew and Dream looked at him. 

“The seven people, the ones who are living and have memories of you that they could dream about, do you know who they are?” Hob asked. 

“Their books are in the Library,” Dream answered hesitantly. 

Hob nodded. “Good.” 

Matthew cocked his head to the side. “Why is that good?” 

“It’s good,” Hob said, looking out the window, “because I can borrow the books from Lucienne and then I can find those seven people and I can kill them.” 

“What?!” Matthew squawked. 

Dream shifted away and turned to look at Hob, holding Matthew closer against his chest. “That is not the purpose of my Library, Hob Gadling.” 

Hob shrugged. “If you don’t want me to use the books then I’ll find them another way. They can’t be too hard to track down. I’m resourceful.” 

Dream’s frown deepened. “You would take greater vengeance than I myself can take?”

“It’s a bit of vengeance,” Hob said, turning to fully face Dream, “but it’s more to protect you from this happening again. You can’t kill mortals who aren’t active threats, but I can.” 

“You’re just going to murder seven people?” Matthew’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. 

Hob sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Matthew, I’ve fought in a dozen wars. I’ve been a criminal of various stripes involving a wide range of violent acts. I’ve been in any number of fights that I’ve chosen to end… decisively. Seven people…” he took a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s a drop in the bucket. A big drop, but still a drop.” He reached out to cup Dream’s cheek, locking eyes with him. “And if it keeps you from this pain?” Hob shrugged. “I’ve done far worse for less.” 

“Okay, wait.” Matthew hopped out of Dream’s arms and onto the bed where he could face both of them. “Boss, there has to be another solution than letting Stabby McMurderpants loose on seven people!” 

Hob decided that he rather liked ‘Stabby McMurderpants’. 

“One of them,” Dream said softly, looking down at his hands, “broke the binding circle, which allowed me to escape. He was Alex Burgess’s lover but he was not involved in Jessamy’s murder or the original trap. I would not see him harmed.” 

“Well,” Hob reasoned, “if I take out the other six that will greatly reduce the chances of someone dreaming of you.” 

“No,” Matthew said firmly. “There’s another way. Boss, you took away Joanna Constantine’s nightmare memory, didn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Dream said slowly. 

“So you can do that with these people, can’t you?” Matthew asked. 

“I … would need to touch the dream to remove it from their minds.” 

Hob covered Dream’s hand with his own. “Could you get caught in it if you touched it?” 

Dream looked away from both of them and nodded. 

“Not worth the risk,” Hob said. “Let me take care of it.” He squeezed Dream’s hand. 

“But Boss, what if we were there with you when you touched the dream? Couldn’t we keep you from getting caught?” 

“I do not know. Perhaps.” 

“Well, Bloodthirsty Killerson here seemed to do a pretty quick job of pulling you out once he got to you so if he was there from the start it seems like he could get you right back out again.” 

Hob brought Dream’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “If Matthew’s right and this is a viable way to permanently eliminate those dreams, I could have the sledgehammer ready to go, love.” 

-----

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2 is up now!

Thanks to @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising for her encouragement and ridiculously helpful beta reading.

Thanks also to @karalynlovescake and @tryan-a-bex for giving the first two chapters of this an early read when I was craving some feedback.

You can find my master post for the Matthew the Emotional Support Raven series here.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Master Posts Links

All the dabbles I have posted on my DC x DP account. Under a read more due to how long it is. Broken into three categories:

Multi-parts - Dabbles that have more than one part written.

One-shots- Dabbles with only one part written.

Requests- Dabbles written for the requests of readers. (Note: If a request is for a continuation of the other two categories, they will be filed in Milti-parts)

Master Post 1 Link

Master Post 2 Link

Completed AUs Master Post Link

NSFW (+18 ) Link

Master

Please read the indexes to determine which master post each au is filed in.

As of 02/10/2024: The newest stuff is inside of Master Post 2. If there are many parts from Master Post 1, they will remain on that one.

MASTER POST 1 INDEX:

Multi-parts:

The Royal Consort,

Child Support

Alfred's Boy

The Adoptive Son

Phantom's Number 1 fan

Danny and The Fan Blog

Congratulations! It's Triplets!:

Ghost King Summon dare

The Dauntless Matchmaker

Demon and Angel Brat

Single Dad

Jason's Doll

Alley Boyfriends

Misplace Baby

One-shots:

The Assistant

The Ghost Trio's Food Trip

Legal Compensation

Love Among Fans

Lex Luther's Youngest

The Infinite Realms Hobby Store:

Obsession Runs in the Family

Farm Hand

Vague Threats

Game of Deadly Love

Retired-Rouge

The Real Blood Son

The Kid of Candles

Magic Older Brother

Keep The God Kid Busy!

Dog walker

Clockwork's Cookbook

Respawn and Relive

The Summoning Conditions of the Ghost King

Finders Keeper

What's the rule again?

The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord

Big Fish in Gotham Pond:

Immunity system:

Wrong Number:

Timeline Prevention Squad

Requests

The Masters are Aliens

Ghost Zone Read

Red Hood's Snow

Jason Sees Dead People

Ghost Dad

Wayne Manor Ghost

The Siren of Iceberg Lounge

The Orginal

The Ghost King's Fibs

Red ParentHood

Woo thy Butler, My Lord

Double Vision

Dealeyed Soulmates

Rescue Mission

Danny's Online Persona

Practice makes perfect

MASTER POST 2 INDEX:

Multi-Parts

Cass the Halfa

Danny's Grill

Freelance Inventor

The Audit

Why Ten?

Mr. Flavor

Cluster of Cores

Demon Head Slightly to the left

Danny Fenton's Ex

New Management

Billy's Parents

Phone a friend

Passion for Fashion

Super Robin

Cassandra's Curse in Gotham

One-Shots

Red Yummy

It's all Fun and Games Kids!

Professional Protector of Love

The Backroads

In 30 Minutes or less

One hell of a good bellhop

Corporate Rivals

Rude Kryptonian

The Summoned Demon

Ecto-Specialist

Side Hustle

Copyright

Love at first (club) meeting

Catnip for heroes

Old Friends

Danny the Nanny

Lights and Camera

Hot Wings

Marriage trap the Office Supplier!

The ones who got away

Vanishing Bookstore

Petal to the metal

Lover Boy

PenPal

Fishbowl Bones

Unwanted House Guest

Requests

Batman with a gun's lover

IRS's boogie man

Dear Elder Brother's mistakes

The Undead Florist

Pit's Merman

Dullahan is my roomate

Nightowl Appartement

The one with Sunset Hair

The Cinnamon Roll's son

The lost In-Laws

The Lady and The Dad

Big Brother does not approve

Gotham's star and Shadow

Pride in Gotham

Revenant Prompt

COMPLETED AUS MASTER POST INDEX

The Bakery is a Front!....right?

Cave Boy

[stabbyfoxandrew]

May I also request also a little bit of Vampire Andrew 🙏🤍?

If Neil were to be hit with the racquet again in the first meeting and for some reason fall and get scratched, I can only wish him to have a terrible blood 😅

WIP Wednesday (9/27)  | Vampire Andrew AU

Luckily, the roadkill stench is less obvious in the stands. Andrew can still smell it, but it’s heavily masked by the hundred or so humans crowded around him. The bad part about sitting in the stands though, is that all these small town idiots have at least semi-functioning brains. Andrew’s got a migraine before the game even starts. 

One woman hates that her daughter doesn’t get as much play time, a man considers whether he wants Coke or Pepsi, a couple little kids are playing under the bleachers and thinking about how fun it would be for them to get to play. Andrew inhales his popcorn, sharing with Coach when he reaches for it. The bag is nearly as big as Andrew’s head, so there’s plenty to go around. Until Kevin tries to get a handful. Andrew moves it out of his path and Kevin turns to look at him, looking like dog begging for a bone.

“Can I have some?”

“Yes.” Andrew relents and lets Kevin take as much as he wants. Then the game actually kicks off and Andrew goes back to trying to ignore the onslaught of thoughts around him, but it’s nearly impossible. He much prefers games where he’s on the court. 

Andrew’s brow furrows. Did he really just think that? Thankfully, Kevin isn’t the one with powers. If he'd heard that, he'd never let Andrew hear the end of it.

What Andrew meant is that the fishbowl over the court seems to help shield his mind. Somehow. He doesn’t know how it works, but that’s the part he likes. The dampening effect. Not the game. And certainly not the players.

<- previous | first | next->

[gabessquishytum]

I only seem to write you here when I’m incoherently tired so sorry in advance.

Im thinking about the wonder that hob and dream look on the world with together. Mr “they invented chimneys” and mr “I’ve never been a human and was locked in a fishbowl for the largest boom of human technical innovation” find joy in /everything/. Running water?? That’s hot?? Every type of food from the whole world available in a ten minute walk??? The fucking internet???? You can call a helpline if you’re sad??? Super tall buildings??? Making tea together every morning and there’s so many kinds? They wake up on different brightly colored sheets each day because dye is no longer as expensive as gold. Dream takes the tube so much he becomes a local cryptid. They stand and hold hands in the national portrait gallery. They watch every rocket launch livestream, no matter what time. They look on Hobs young students with joy. There’s new kinds of bread to eat, new shows opening. New languages to learn (for hob at least) new technology to break with his presence (for dream). There’s cat cafes and science museums and tesco and so many books coming out every day. They love the world together

-🦐

Oh I'm so soft about them!!

I'm convinced that sometimes Hob just has to go lie down on the floor and have a little cry over the sheer availability of THINGS. Abundance is the ultimate joy for any hedonist, let alone one who's been around since 1389. Imagine the delight he takes in Poundland, in international food buffets, in public transportation!! I'm fully convinced that one of Hob’s greatest love affairs is with the London Underground. It's there, under your feet! All the time! You can travel to the other side of town (not necessarily quickly, but it's quicker than walking... sometimes).

Mr Depression Personified, freshly unfishbowled Dream of the Endless, is gonna seem like he just took a fat dose of Duloxetine every time he hangs out with Hob. The joy is bone deep, and so infectious. Watching Hobplay Just Dance at 3am because he just remembered that he owns a Wii genuinely heals some part of Dream that shattered long, long ago.

Imagine what it's like for Hob, as well. Spending time with someone who knows that he's actually a medieval peasant who's lived well past his sell-by date. He gets to be honest in his excitement for things like ibuprofen and chocolate flavoured vodka. He can go to museums with Dream, and Dream will understand why he gets that distant misty look in his eyes when he sees a certain familiar object.

Other people can stare or laugh at Hob’s joy, but Dream will never do that. Its never silly or funny to see Hob rave about some entirely ordinary object, it's just. Important. And quite beautiful. For Dream, it's possibly the most beautiful thing in the world.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower: Book 1, Chapter 5

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: drinking AN: Sorry for the delay- I got sidelined yesterday by the company Holiday party, a fishbowl and peer pressure. I don't think the country club expected the company president to lead frat party level shenanigans during a Ortho Surgery company holiday party but it was, as is always when Pres can sneak a fishbowl in behind the CEO's back, legendary. Bone Bros may be the jocks of the healthcare and surgical world but they're the best to party with.

Chapter 4 Masterlist Chapter 6 ~~~

Chapter 5

Shame. 

That’s what she felt as she pulled onto the street. 

She hadn’t told him, she didn’t know how to. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe she would pull in and he would bulk before she had even had a chance to park. Maybe he would say he was too good to be seen in a place like this. Maybe he wouldn’t even get out of the car. Maybe he would demand to be taken back.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

The gates to the apartment complex were wide open. That wasn’t anything new. They had been broken for as long as she had lived in her unit though the complex advertised themselves as a secured complex. 

They would be fixed this winter, or so she was told every single winter.

“Is this it?” 

She answered his question with a noise as she turned into a wing of the parking lot. 

Trash littered the sidewalks and kids were yelling on the playground as the car slowly pulled up in front of a crumbling set of concrete stairs. The buildings was painted what she affectionately called ‘shit brown’ with tan trimmings. Balconies overhung the three floor apartment buildings.

When the engine cut, he didn’t hesitate to open the door and step out. He didn’t show any hesitation either as he pulled his suitcase and carry on from the back of her car. 

“Lead the way.” His voice was level, calm, and schooled giving her no insight as to what may have been going on behind his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip nervously. 

“Are you trying to scare me away?” A small smile tugged the corners of his lips.

“No, but-”

“Than yes, I’m sure.” There was that steel in him again. It was something she had only gotten fleeting glimpses of. There was a harder side to him, hidden under charming fluff. When he put his mind to something, it seemed that the steel would surface to ensure there was follow through. 

Without a way to convince him otherwise, she lead the way up the flight of stairs. He carried his bags easily, though she had a deep hatred for these stairs thanks to the hassle they caused her every time she went to do laundry.

A note was taped to her second floor door. The AC had managed to get fixed, thank god, it was supposed to be in the hundreds in the next few days. 

“Everything okay?” Tom asked as he set his suitcase on the landing behind her. 

“AC’s fixed.” Crumpling the paper, she tossed it into the small trash can beside the door and made a mental note to deal with it later. What she didn’t tell him was that the apartment complex blamed her for the broken unit and demanded she not set the temperature below 80 degrees. 

Unlocking the door, she stepped inside. At least for the moment, the temperature inside the unit was a relief. It was a mater of time though and it would feel suffocating.

“This is it.” She held the door open for him and waved her arm inside. “Don’t worry about your shoes- it looks like the repairmen didn’t think twice about tracking dirt inside.” 

The front door opened into a small living room. Next to the front door was a sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony that Tom saw from the ground. Across from the front door was a flight of stairs. A small kitchen was in the back of the living room. Three simple barstools were tucked under the island bar.

Dirt was tracked in from the front door, leaving a trail lit up by the desert sun across the impersonation wood floors. There was a small couch -there was no way he would fit on it- on one side of the wall and a TV stand and flat screen TV across from it. A bookshelf packed full of books stood next to the TV.

“You can put your bags where ever.” She gestured to the small space. “I guess I’ll give you the grand tour.” 

Never in her life had she felt so ashamed, while she watched a small bug crawl along the wall by the door. Hopefully he hadn’t seen it.

“This is pretty much it.” There wasn’t much to show him. “There’s upstairs too.” 

The stairs creaked under their weight as they climbed the narrow staircase. He was quiet behind her, only adding to her anxiety. 

If only he would say something. Anything would be good enough. Tell her it was too small. Say the apartment wasn’t good enough for him. Insist that he couldn’t stay there. Change his mind. Insult her. Something. Anything. 

“Here’s the bathroom,” She turned into the room doorway on the left and gestured to the fixtures. The room was long and narrow with a sliding door separating the sink and toilet area from the shower area. At the other end, just in front of the foot of the tub was another door which she led him through. 

The design of the apartment was weird, she knew it. The doorway opened up into a second sink area with a rod for clothes. There was no door on this cubby of a room, allowing it to flow right into the bedroom. 

She grabbed a cordless vacuum, reaching down and unplugging it quickly. It wasn’t loud when she turned it on, running it quickly over the floor and into the hallway.

“What’s behind this door?” Tom pointed to the door that was skipped by going through the bathroom. 

“Oh.” Her heart sank. “It’s nothing-” She rushed him downstairs, vacuuming behind his feet. She had slipped her feet out of her shoes and kicked them back toward her bedroom. 

“Can I help with anything?” Tom asked as she ran the vacuum around the living room. She assured him that she had it under control, and she did, leaving him to look at the books. 

There were novels, old and new on the shelf of many genres. There were also coloring books, workbooks and children’s books. 

On the shelf was a framed picture of a small family. A younger Mia was center holding a small baby with sandy blond hair. A tall blonde man had his arms wrapped around them both. 

“Is this him?” Tom asked, picking the frame up when the vacuum cut.

“What?” Her heart dropped when she saw the picture. It was such a part of her environment, she had forgotten it was even there. There was no more hiding. There was no more pretending. There was no more protecting. 

"Yeah,” She took the picture from him and looked down at it for a moment. It was a snapshot from when she thought she could never have been happier. “The woman in this picture thought she was going to marry a man who would support her always. Who would love her always. Who would be their for his daughter. Instead she was a woman being run around on.”

“Daughter?” Tom looked down at her as she set the picture back in it’s place. 

“That room, upstairs. It’s my daughter’s.”

“How old is she?” Tom turned to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Look, I don’t- I don’t want you to think I agreed to get to money or to use you.” She couldn’t look at him. 

“Than why did you?” His voice was soft. 

“It seemed to matter to you a lot, that’s all.” Stepping away, she put space between them. “I don’t want anything from you. I just-” The ringing of her phone cut her off. Ashely’s name lit up the screen in her hand. 

“It’s okay.” Tom nodded toward the phone.

“Are you still alive?” Ashley’s teasing tone did little to cover her worry. “Where are you?”

“I’m home. Still alive. Haven’t been murdered yet.” 

“You’re home?” 

She directed her attention to Tom, “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable?” He nodded to her as she directed her attention back to the phone. “We’re home.”

“What?!” Ashley squawked. “You brought him home. To your apartment. Your s-h-i-t bag of an apartment?!” 

“I didn’t have much choice.” But she knew she did. Tom offered, he pressured lightly but as far as the time she can remember with him, he has never really forced anything, just pushed with that hard edge.

“I got called into work. Justin is working tonight too…”

“Shit. Okay. It can’t be helped.” Mia ran a hand through her hair. What was she going to say. How was she going to explain this. How could she know, really know, that her daughter was safe. 

“I’ll feed her lunch first so you can sort whatever mess you’ve made of your life out.”

“Gee, thanks. Love you too.” The line disconnected, leaving Mia alone with the consequences of her actions.

“Is everything alright?” Tom crossed the room in a few strides. There simply wasn’t a lot of room to cross. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” It wasn’t nothing. She wasn’t sure how she would manage to sleep tonight with a strange man in the same house as her daughter. 

~~~~~

With time ticking down, they sat on the couch and talked. Mia was perhaps the most honest she had been. There was no going back, Ashley would deliver Sally to the apartment soon. 

She told Tom of the wonderful five year old that lived in the house, how she had a perfectly fine bed but insisted on sleeping on a blanket on the floor. Tom listened to her as she talked about picky eating and noise. He listened as she told him of tearful nights crying for her father- a man she remembered the idea of far more than anything else.

“She sounds lovely.” Tom smiled.

“You’re not angry I didn’t tell you earlier?” 

A warm hand rested on her back and rubbed between her shoulders. These small acts of tender affection were far and few between. Again, the kind touch caught her off guard. 

“You wanted to protect her. I can’t fault you for wanting to feel out a man you’re bringing into her life- even less so in our current situation.” 

“How are you with kids?” A text to her phone let her know Ashley would be arriving in a few short minutes.

“I think I do well enough. I don’t have any of my own, of course -” That felt like a needle to her “- but my sisters have them as do some of my friends.”

Knocking on the door told Mia her time was up. It was either introduce Tom to Sally as… something or ask a neighbor to watch her. There wasn’t enough notice for her to ask neighbors, she’d been counting on Ashley. 

~~~~~<3

“Oh no,” her head swam on a sea of alcohol. It had been years since she had this much fun and even longer since she had this much to drink.

“What is it?” The man- his name- asked her. What was his name? 

“I lost my necklace.” She pouted. It wasn’t an expensive one or anything but she had so very little nice jewelry.

“Oh dear!” He pulled her to face him and leaned down to inspect her neck and chest before declaring as if it was news, “It’s gone.” 

“I know.” She pouted before sighing. “Oh well.”

With him leaning down just so, he didn’t tower over her nearly as much. It was impulsive but she threw her arms around his neck. Leaning up on her toes, she kissed the tip of his nose. A boyish grin lit up his face and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“We need to get you a necklace.” He decided. 

“I can’t.” She pouted. “No money. No jewelry. Naked neck.” 

“We can’t have that.” He decided, pulling away from her only to take her hand in his. Pulling her along, he lead the way to the first jewelry store he found that was open. 

“I can’t afford any of this stuff.” She sighed, looking at sparkling necklaces and bracelets. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m poor.” She laughed, dragging out the word as if it was a joke but tears gathered in her eyes just the same. “Gotta make sure I’ve got money for rent and groceries.” 

“Do you need a prince to sweep you off your feet and save you?” He joked, dancing her down the length of the jewelry case.” 

“Princes don’t exist in real life. They make you think they do and leave.”

“They do in England.” Tom nodded wisely. “I’ll buy you a necklace. Any one you want.” 

“You can’t!” She protested. “They’re expensive.”

“It’s my fault you lost it.” He leaned down and kissed her nose, much like she had done to him. “And I can afford it.” 

“I can’t. I’m drunk but I’m not drunk enough to take handouts.”

“What if we were married. Then could I buy you a necklace?” They nearly tripped over the chairs in front of a lower section of the counter. 

“It would be your job.” her smile was as intoxicating as the whiskey they had drank all evening. “Too bad we’re not.”

“Then let’s get married.”

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72

[deluxewhump]

Erik's Journals pt 2 (2011-2013)

Content Warning for entire series: institutionalized slavery of a minor (11-18), emotional abuse and manipulation, dubious comfort, pet whump, disordered eating, violence, guns, mutilation (off screen, no main characters), corporal punishment, sexual content/dubcon ( character is 18+), broken bones, death of a parent, unreliable narrator

2: What the Fates Allow

December 2011

Feelings toward my new pet that are paternal in nature have been growing for some time, but last night I felt them so acutely I feel compelled to record the instance.

I had just come home from a week’s absence. (I was in Stockholm with Mathilde and our cousin Karl, settling some family business and enjoying an extended visit.)

I was exhausted from jetlag, and I’d spent all that afternoon until it was dark with Keith in the warehouse going over the minutiae of that side of the business. Though I needed to catch up on emails for O&H, I found myself absentmindedly watching a movie with Carlo.

Besides the TV, the only light in the room was the warm yellow glow of the Christmas tree in the corner. Its thousand tiny bulbs reflected against the black panes of the bay window like Van Gogh stars. Carlo was on the opposite end of the sofa, wrapped in a beige quilted blanket.

It was pleasant to share the room with another person, even a quiet pet. Poor thing. He’d been alone all week but for visits from his tutors and the maid.

It’s not just any pet you could leave alone for a week and not worry about. I called him a few times, to say hello. He always gave polite, perfunctory answers to my questions, though they were meant to be conversational. To a warm “how are you?” he’d answer “well, Sir, and you?” My gently exasperated laughter did nothing but push him into longer, more uncomfortable silences. I could picture him standing in my study, the cordless receiver to his ear, tracing patterns on the sun faded oriental rug with his toe in the socks I’d bought him.

I was an uncomfortable business call to him. He gave me the same stilted, self conscious reports as when I called one of my lower management team unexpectedly. “Did Anna make you your Italian wedding soup yet? I put your favorites on the menu for the week.” “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

Eventually I would put him out of his misery and let him go. He is still adjusting. Despite my measured efforts to reassure him, he is so acutely aware our relationship to one another, my status as his master and head of the household that has become his fishbowl-world. I know he will grow more comfortable with me over time. 

More importantly, I had no doubt he’d be here when I got back, lessons done and house clean, no trouble. His behavior so far has been exemplary, and I try to remember to praise him on it. 

The movie took a sad turn (to ramp the ethos of the genre up to ten). The aging matriarch of the family was hiding a medical diagnosis, probably cancer, from her adult children so as not to put a damper on Christmas, and they had all just found out. I happened to glance over at my pet. In the soft light from the tree, I could see he was crying. 

“Carlo,” I said without thinking, my voice infused with nearly amused concern.

He turned his head away from me.

"Oh, hey now." I patted the spot next to me. I regretted the tone my voice may have taken when I said his name. “It’s alright. Do you want to come over here?”

Without looking at me, he did as I suggested, curling up fairly close. He didn’t touch the tears on his cheeks, as if acknowledging them would be worse than ignoring them. 

To preserve what he clearly considered as his dignity I said nothing further, but I wondered if it was just the tear-jerking tactics of the film with the doomed mother, or a mother-shaped ache of his own that had gotten him to cry.

I very much doubted if his mother hadn’t died that any of this would have ever become of him. As you can imagine, the trade is filled with orphans, runaways, drifters, and those with similarly tenuous ties to society. And even then, the state rarely offers up one so young as this one- still only a child. I put my arm around him.

“Things always work out in these types of movies,” I said. “Don’t you worry.”

He must’ve felt the affection in the weight of my arm, for he was bold enough to lay temple against me. The movie was coming to a relatively happy close a few minutes later, and I pulled back just enough to look down into his face.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded unconvincingly.

“You miss her, don’t you?”

This brought fresh tears, and he turned away again to hide his face from me, muffling a choked sob as he did. He said something that was lost in the tear-tight back of his throat, but what I think was an apology. 

That unfamiliar, deeply personal ache, what I can only describe as something akin to paternal affection slipped painfully as a knife between my ribs. Gently, I turned him back towards me by his shoulders and held out my arms in an offer to hold him. He accepted, placing his cheek against my chest and letting me wrap my arms around him. 

“Of course you do,” I soothed, rubbing my hand between his shoulder blades. “It’s not fair, is it? I know it isn’t. It’s okay to miss her. You’re home, you can feel however you need to feel.”

I shushed him rhythmically and repeated any comforting nonsense I could think of until the tears subsided and he sat up sniffing, wiping his face like someone who’s just tripped in public hurries to brush themself off, afraid to look and see if everyone is watching.

“You’re my pet, Carlo Holstrom. I know you know that, but do you know what it means?”

He managed a wobbly, obligatory answer, keeping his chin and eyes down. No, Sir.

”It means it’s my job to look after you. Just like I’ve shown you your jobs, I have one too. It’s to take care of you. Always. You’re not alone, and you’re never going back to a state home, or with anyone else but me. I know I have to go on trips sometimes, but I’ll always come back.”

”It’s like family, then?” he glanced up cautiously. His eyelashes were wet, his nose red. “I know the difference,” he hurried to add. “But, kind of?”

”Oh yes,” I agreed seriously, and with fondness smoothed down a stray curl of his hair. “It is just as binding.”

Jet-lagged, compelled by his innocence and my own apparent sappiness, I made a promise. “I can’t bring your mother or anyone else back, Carlo. But I promise you that as long as I’m living, you’ll always have someone in your corner.”

-

That night I pulled an extra quilt from a linen closet to drape over his bed on account of the cold temperatures the weather channel had called for. When he thanked me for it, he said thank you, Papa, from his pillow, already half asleep.

I turned out his light and walked down the dark hallway with a feeling like a physical weight in my chest. This boy was only here because of misfortune and the banal ugliness of the world compounding one onto another sure as misery loves company. And of course, because of my own casual participation in a thing as tainted and archaic as the pet trade. One day he would understand my participation for what it was. I was complicit in all the ubiquitous systems of the world that put him on that block for sale or slaughter. 

Tonight I had shown him an ounce of human kindness, mostly because I have been pleased with his good behavior, and he had responded with generosity and trust tenfold. I know the difference, he’d said, assuring me he knew his place in the world. Papa, he had called his master, his captor. Half asleep. Like a lullaby. 

I had forgotten how beauty is sometimes made, crushed under the oppressive weight of the ragged world like a diamond. How it can persist not because of, but in spite of. I had forgotten how painful it could be to witness. 

3: Classically Trained

January 2013

In addition to English and math, I hired a piano tutor for Carlo, an old acquaintance who came recommended to me by a friend.

I know a little of the piano myself, just enough to substitute when Claude can’t make it, until Carlo advances beyond me. 

Yesterday was one such day. Claude canceled late, citing a toothache. I sat down at the piano bench with Carlo after dinner in the music room, a shoe-polish black baby grand surrounded by the seeking branches of potted plants striving hopefully towards the windows. Outside, the nighttime sky was bright with a corona of blue-grey light, heavy with unfallen snow.

“Show me where you left off last time.”

He flipped forward in his scorebook to Schubert’s Der Tod und das Mädchen, everything about his manner careful and stiff. I thought at first he might be nervous to play in front of me, which was alright.

“Show me your placement,” I said gently, and he did.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He began to play, slowly at first like the first laborious push of a bicycle pedal, a timid touch gaining momentum on the mournful opening notes of the Leid.

At a transition, his thumb missed its intended note. Discord barked where the other notes sang, a dropped set of car keys among wind chimes. He froze. At this point I still assumed his behavior was just shyness of me, and his usual sensitivity to criticism. 

“Pick back up from here,” I said, pointing to the last half note. “Slow down over that transition to C. Piano, not pianissimo. You’re doing well.”

He seemed not even to breathe, fingers still poised over the keys where he’d made his mistake like it was the scene of an accident. I noticed not for the first time he had been biting his nails, some of them down to the tender quick, leaving pink half moons on his fingertips. Momentarily, he did as I asked, tread slowly past the note where he’d faltered before. It seemed it was his relief and pleasure that made him lose his concentration next. He faltered again when he picked back up to speed, his small back as straight as an ironing board next to me.

This time I reached over to lay my hand on his, guide him over how the movement would have felt if he’d mastered it. He flinched from my touch. I pulled back.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said automatically. Eyes on his fingers, fingers on the mute keys. He glanced up towards his sheet music, then away as if shocked by static electricity.

I followed his gaze carefully. How had I not seen it before? Tucked behind the sheet music on the music rack was a long black switch like an antenna, metal alloy tapering to an end as thin as a pencil. At first I thought it must be a pointer, like a conductor's wand. After a slow moment of understanding it occurred to me it might just as well be an instrument of discipline and punishment. Like a nuns right-hand ruler, it was perfectly made for inflicting pain.

“What’s this?” I asked, drawing it out by the tip. I held it flat in my palm like a carrot.

He avoided my eyes.

“I asked you a question.”

He drew his hands into his lap, his shoulders losing some of their rigidity. “It’s a switch,” he offered, in case I was just stupid.

“Is this your tutor’s?”

A reluctant nod.

“What is this for?”

No answer.

“Carlo,” I said in low warning.

“To correct, Sir. Only when I make a mistake. Or don’t sit up right.”

“Where does he hit you with it?”

“My hands. Fingers.”

I sighed. I almost told him that he should have told me, but he probably assumed I knew about Claude’s methods, since I’d hired him. Communication requires trust. I am still working on that with him. 

Claude is a decent pianist, but a twit. Julliard trained about a hundred years ago, which everyone knew by virtue of him letting everyone know. Roman Catholic, though no longer practicing. He fancied himself an outcast of the Church now, prone to Marxist commentary and mystical in ways he was sure they found threatening and lately sporting a bristly fundamentalist beard. Rasputin minus the charisma. Still, the sin and corporal punishment crowd often struggle to forget their roots.

But to presume to touch— let alone hit— my pet without asking my explicit permission? I’d given his manners too much credit. I would not soon forgive his overstep, making my own pet flinch from my touch in learned fear. I hoped his toothache pained him fiercely.

“That particular tutor won’t be invited back here,” I said, and tucked the switch into my jacket pocket. “He’s not fit to teach you.”

For the first time since I’d sat down beside him he dared turn his head to look at me. “What about when I make a mistake?”

“You try again, until you are making better mistakes on harder pieces. Mistakes and disobedience are not the same thing. And pain is excellent kindling for art, but not the kind inflicted on children with a switch. You understand the difference?”

“Mistakes are not the same as disobedience.”

I nodded at him to ready his hands at the keys again.

“From the beginning,” I told him. “Take a deep breath. Lower your shoulders.”

Next

[virgo-dream]

9 and/or 17 for the ask game!

Hi Seiya!!! 💖 I’m not going to answer 9 in this post because I honestly have memory issues and I don’t currently remember something I wrote that I’m particularly proud of right now :(

17. Are there any writers and/or stories that you consider an influence?

Uuuuuuuh I think I’ve said this to them a billion times but I’m definitely tagging them here too!

@avelera is fully the reason why I’m on tumblr for Dreamling and even writing fic! I love the way she develops her plots, the impeccable grasp she has on the minds of the characters, and just how well she does writing stories in different genres. Also, Maggie has the ability to not coddle the characters and show their ugly sides too, which is something I admire a lot.

@softest-punk has to hear me scream whenever they post anything because soft has the gentlest, kindest and most hopeful writing I’ve ever seen. Everything is imbued with an inner light and just fiercely loving. Soft, like Maggie, also has incredible grasp of the technical part of writing (which is the reason why I’ve bothered both of them for writing advice).

@landwriter is an absolute master of themes and language. Just unhinged levels of drenching a story in symbolism even in the smallest little details. Also, the way Gloam does research is insane. I wish I had the same level of brain power to do research for work that Gloam does for fics.

@moorishflower’s writing is wild, vivid, unapologetic, experimental… moorish is just out here writing about themes and in ways that I’ve never allowed myself to even consider trying. Another master of language, like Gloam, and constantly pushing the boundaries.

@chiron-crow just goes there with his fics. He’s exploring pain, darkness, honesty and healing in an incredibly raw way that I think even scares him sometimes. I love how Chi organises his writing, how methodical he is in his process and how deeply he cares for the themes he chooses to tackle (Also his poetry fucking slaps ok?)

@valeriianz’s Bolt In The Blue has such a strong grip on my heart that I actually wrote fic for Kris’ fic lol. It’s a true slow burn, which I enjoy reading but am terrible at executing in my own writing. I love how Kris is able to take something that is not a common experience (being a touring musician) and stripping it down to the bare bones of it, the points of connection where everyone can identify with the characters.

@beatnikfreakiswriting’s “would you let me know” is one of the most delightful fics I’ve had the pleasure of stumbling upon. The exploration of Dream and Hob’s relationship, how Dream slowly opens up, all while dealing with the academic environment as a backdrop. I’ve steered away from academic AUs because I have deep academic trauma, so this fic made me feel seen and I was happy to have given it a chance. I just remember being happy reading it.

MonstruousRegiment is not on tumblr as far as I’m aware, but both The Uses of Adversity and The Stars Move Still are in my kindle fic bible for continuous reading because damn, those fics are good. There are so many original characters that just feel native to the universe they’re exploring. Their take on the “Hob saves Dream from the fishbowl” trope is one of my favourites to date. In the second instalment of the series, they manage to do yet another incredible canon divergence take. I’d read a thousand of those, just exploring how things could be different at different points of the story.

[smurphyse]

A Moment in Time | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist

Summary: Spencer spends his nights wandering, watching life go on without him.

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of sadness, happy open ending

Spencer wanders a lot. His mind rarely lets him rest, and as a result he often finds himself on the streets of DC at night. He likes to take pictures, to encapsulate a single moment in time forever just for himself. It’s like hoarding sights from inside a fishbowl, keeping his face pressed up against a shop window knowing they’ll never let him in.

There’s a series of stores he loves in an older part of the district. All of the buildings are laced with history, from the museums and pamphlets being handed around outside to the very stone they’re carved from. Large windows backlit with bright lights lay nestled between the shop walls, little worlds all within themselves as he passes restlessly in the night. 

He often comes to a point where the near-constant exhaustion staining his eyes and pushing downward on his shoulders lifts. For a few precious moments, his chest is light, his eyes sharp as he takes in everything this city has to offer. He’s free… to just enjoy himself for a small window of time that he covets more than anything in the world. It’s addicting, more enticing than sleep, and he searches for it more often than he doesn’t.

Tonight, he wanders down that avenue of shops. They lay undecorated for one of the few times of the year there isn’t some commercial holiday to litter the streets. Instead, fairylights and lanterns illuminate his way down the snowy street, the late February chill biting his bones. Spencer pulls his coat tighter around himself and lets his mind get lost in the little universes going on inside the storefronts.

The bakery is empty, soft orange lighting shining in the display cases as a harried-looking woman in a battered apron wipes sweat off her brow. The small wooden sign reading Sorry, we’re closed! clatters off the window in the cool wind off the Chesapeake. She sweeps up the dirt from customers long gone, mouthing the words to the music Spencer can feel humming through as he passes by. Does she have kids at home? Does she live in the apartment upstairs? He doesn’t know, but a thousand possibilities rip through his brain, and he quickly lets them fade.

The scent of bread and cookies fades as he continues down, peeking into the shop next door. Snow crunches under his feet as he slows. The crystal shop is dark, the glittering amethyst and sparkling citrine shining only from the lamplight outside. Strings of gems dangle from the ceiling, still swaying from the many hands that ran through them as people wandered inside.

The record store still stands open, lights on and music pumping through the speakers. The plant store’s grow lights shine purple and orange streams out onto the street. The dispensary smells terrible, and Spencer winces as he passes it, but that is quickly remedied by the coffee shop next door. 

Spencer reaches the end of the line, and now it’s time to head across the mostly-empty street and head back the way he came. The snow collects on his shoulders as he walks, small flurries that land on his nose and melt as quickly as they come. Nobody notices him out here, he’s nothing, an outsider looking in. Always too late and too quiet, he’s a shadow in the night collecting his moments of peace.

Spencer smiles to himself as he comes up to his favorite shop- a twenty-four hour bookstore and coffee shop. Velvet couches always line the floor, the walls coated in shelves and novels. Large cafe mugs litter tables and windowsills under the soft lights, so homey and sweet. 

He’d never gone inside, never had the guts to. Spencer didn’t belong to these moments of tranquility. His snapshots of them on his phone belonged to him, and he lived vicariously through them. His life was too hectic, and these pictures gave him calm in the eye of his constant storm.

Coming up slowly, the muted sound of snow crunching beneath his loafers, Spencer peeked inside. Sure enough, the dangling lights still hung, people still perused the shelves, and a few waited patiently at the coffee counter for their late-night espressos.

But she was what caught his eye. 

Scrunhced up in the corner of the window, one thigh pressed against the glass, the other balancing on the arm of a chair, she read from a book splayed across her lap. The Lady of the Sea’s cover was so wellknown to him now he recognized it immediately. Her hair piled messily on top of her head, a few errant strands tickling her cheek as her eyes flicked quickly across the pages. 

Spencer dug through his pockets for his phone, trying in vain to catch his breath at this glorious sight. From the outside looking in, he wanted to keep it forever, to wonder about her and her life and how he didn’t fit in it. 

He held up the phone and watched her through the screen for a moment before snapping her picture. He checked to make sure it was what he wanted, but as beautiful as the photo was, it didn’t hold a camera to the way she looked to the naked eye. Her engrossed face and reading posture was too much for him, and he wished he could save this moment in glass and put it on his bookshelf for safe keeping. 

Just as he was about to turn away, her head snapped up. Almost as if she knew he was out there, her sharp gaze went straight to him though he was nothing but an onlooker in the livelihood of this street. Spencer went still, as if hoping he really was Mr. Cellophane and she could see right through him, but the strangest thing happened.

She smiled. At him.

Her hand lifted from the book enough to flash him a delicate wave, her eyes latching onto his in the darkness. She looked an angel, flooded by light and warmth and here he was out in the dark and cold. Spencer swallowed thickly and looked around to make sure she was checking out someone else.

When his eyes came back to her, she cocked her head to the side. That wave turned to a beckoning hand and a raising of her coffee mug. When he furrowed his brow, she put down the book and pointed at the bright blue cup.

Coffee on me? 

A jolt ran through him at the realization that the familiar lifting of his chest was happening in slow motion. The falling snow stilled mid-air, her wavering hair tickling her cheeks from the heatvent lifting and hanging there as she smiled at him. The moment encased itself forever in his mind. It was sealed, and he no longer feels lost.

That split second of peace lasts another, and another, and another as his cheeks break out in a returning smile. The snow falls to the pavements and her hair lands against her glimmering skin. But the moment isn’t gone, it continues, and a shy blush dusts its way across her cheeks. 

And then his hand is on the doorhandle, still watching her through the window. If he steps inside he’s no longer watching the world from the outside… he’ll be a part of it. He’ll become a part of the universe he always photographs for proof they exist. 

The door pushes open, and warmth floods his cold and tired body. She follows his gaze as he crosses the threshold, out of obscurity and into the light. Spencer lets it fall shut behind him. He stuffs his phone in his pocket. 

He slides onto the windowsill next to her and smiles, “I’m Spencer.”

She smiles back, and the moment continues. 

“I’m Y/N.”

It never ends.

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