#I promise I will tag someone eventually!! I feel kinda shitty for just dropping it

[plutos-roleplay-hub]

hey ppl who are doing art tag, I'm so sorry I got tagged and then just dropped it. I haven't had the spoons for it currently but I am still planning on drawing for it. If you wanna skip me for now to get the game going again feel free to!

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Heat of the Moment | Damon Salvatore x reader

Requested by @fandom-strumpet / Summary: You confess your feelings to Damon during a heated argument and fear of rejection and embarrassment, you run off. 

A/N: the ending is kinda choppy aka shitty. I’m sorry I took so long to get this out, I hope you still enjoy it! xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

As you entered the Salvatore boarding house you were immediately hit with the smell of blood and bourbon. Damon had been this way for days after his precious Elena left him high and dry for another man, proving once again she didn’t care about anyone but herself. 

You were Damon’s best friend, the first friend he made when he arrived back in Mystic Falls. You two bonded at a liquor store over brands of bourbon (you two practically got into a pissing match about which was the better bourbon). At the end of the conversation he invited you over to try his brand and you would try his favorite. By the end of the night the two of you found yourself switching brands. 

You may have been a human, but Damon was in one of his good moods when the two of you met, so there was no need for you to become his next meal. Plus, he promised Elena only blood bags from now on. 

You grew up in this town so you knew Elena well and knew how self centered she was. So, when you found out Damon and her were together, you couldn’t believe it. And to be honest, you were kind of hurt, hoping this time a guy would choose you over Elena. 

Damon was dancing with some human, blood dripping from her neck as you walked into the living room area. The music was booming and you immediately went straight for the music. 

“There’s my favorite girl!” Damon calls out, dropping the girl like a bag of bricks when he notices you. 

You slammed your hand against the button to turn the radio off, earning a “hey!” From Damon. 

You turned just in time for him to practically be chest to chest with you, “You stink.” You scrunched your nose up in disgust and at his bloody face and chest.

“What are you the party police?” He slurs, “You’re the one who stinks.” 

You snatched the bottle out of hand before he could even react, “She left you Damon and this is how you decide to spend your time?!” You stomp toward the girls, making sure they were alive, however to your dismay they were dead. Great. “These girls are dead!” 

“They were fun while it lasted.” Damon chuckles, taking the bottle from you hands, motioning to the bottle, “i’m sorry would you care for some?” 

“You can’t keep doing this,” you motion to the room, “This isn’t you Damon. You aren’t this guy anymore.” 

He scoffs, taking a swig of the bourbon, “Yeah well, it’s fun being this guy again.” He followed you as you picked up trash that littered the room, “Quit cleaning up. Just leave it.” 

“You can’t live like this. This is disgusting. You smell horrible and the house smells horrible.” 

“I said just fucking leave it damn it!” Hitting it out of your hands the litter scatters once more, “Why do you care? Why does my appearance or how I choose to treat my broken heart matter to you?!” 

“You stupid prick!” You gave him a hard push against the chest, but he didn’t move at all so it was useless on your part. 

“She obviously didn’t care about me, so why would you care?!” He stepped toward you, towering over you by a couple feet, “Just let me rot!.” 

“Because you stupid bastard, I love you!” 

That sobered him up real quick. He staggered back a couple steps from you and you realized what you’d let slip. The secret you’d been holding in for months. Damon’s eyebrows are furrowed, “you.. you love me?” 

Your heartbeat picks up it’s pace as you realize you’d made a stupid and embarrassing mistake. “I-I need to go.” You didn’t even grab your purse as you turned and ran toward the door, putting as much distance between you and Damon as you could. 

“Wait y/n-” He tried to recover but it was too late, you were already gone. 

~ 

He continued cleaning up like you were trying to do. He disposed of the bodies properly and eventually took a shower. He used this time to think over what you’d said; what you’d confessed. 

Had he really been that blind to not notice your feelings? No, how could he? His mind was always on Elena. and well, that shown to be a mistake. 

He walked through the woods to your secret spot next to the woods. As he neared he heard your heart beat and then heard your sobs. 

“You really shouldn’t be out here a lone. A vampire might walk up behind you.” 

You quickly wiped your tears from your cheeks, “I see you finally showered.” 

He motioned to the spot on the fallen tree next to you, “May I?” 

You nodded and wiped another tear, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier.” 

“Oh good. I’m glad you didn’t really think of me as a stupid bastard and prick.” He teased. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. He was the one person who could make you laugh when you wanted to cry, “No you asshole.. about loving you.” You picked at your sweater, “I didn’t mean it. It was a heat of the moment thing. I know you’re still in love with Elena.” 

“I think I fell in love with the wrong girl.” He glances out at the river and then back at you, “She didn’t leave me because she found some other guy. She left me because she knew my heart belonged to someone else.” 

“Oh great.” You groan, “another girl for me to compete with?” 

“there isn’t no competition.” He grabs your hand, stopping you from picking at your sweater, “Quit picking at your sweater, it’s your favorite one.” He mutters quietly before continuing on, “She was the one who told me I was in love with you. She saw it before I did.” 

“How did you know this was my favorite sweater?” 

“Way to change the subject while I’m being honest with my feelings.” 

“I’m sorry.” Heat fills your cheeks, “Seriously.. how did you know?” 

“Because it’s the one you messed up that day in the woods. You were all upset about it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, looking up at him, “But Caroline gave me this for Christmas.” 

He clears his throat, trying to divert the “Anyways, yeah so, she left-” 

“Caroline had no idea about this sweater; That it was my favorite one.” 

“Fine. Alright? I bought the damn sweater after you ripped that one in the woods and told Caroline to give it to you for Christmas because I didn’t want you to be the only one I bought a gift for. Happy?” He stands from his spot next to you, “That’s when Elena knew I was in love with you. She wasn’t dumb and figured it out pretty quickly.” 

“So you’re saying..” You slowly stand from your seat, “You’re saying that you’re in love with me?” 

“Yes.” He faces you, “Did that get lost in translation? I’m not too good with my words. You know this.” 

You bite back a laugh, “No it didn’t get lost in translation. I thought I fucked it up earlier telling you I loved you.” 

“No, you didn’t.” He sighs, “I was angry with myself for not seeing it. and took it out on drinking and those girls.” His hand runs down your arm, stopping to take your hand in his, “I love you, y/n and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” 

You soaked in the moment, hearing him admit those words, “You’re choosing me?” your eyes are glossy, “Right? I’m not hearing it wrong?” 

“No..” He rubs his knuckles along your cheek, “I’m choosing you. I love you.” 

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafejjwhore​ , @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​ 

The Vampire Diaries / The Originals tag list: @thefandomplace​ , @taylordrunkonwhiskey , @somewhatasoftbaddie , @toomuchtv95​ , @losers-club6​ , @daddydobrockk , @akshi8278​ , @idkhaylijah​ , @harpersmariano​ , @dpaccione​ , @hellotvshowtrash​ , @malfoys-demigod​

[whumperooni]

I'd love to be mutuals with you but now really sure how to approach you off-anon.

I've been holding off on answering this one because I'm not quite sure how to respond without coming off as rude or bitchy or grouchy or stuck up or just straight up ridiculous

So pretty please take this as a general answer for everyone wanting to be moots and not just you, okay? I promise it's nothing personal (specially since you're a nonny and idk who you are anyways)

tldr; I'm a bad moot and if you wanna be a moot it has to happen naturally

But

I'm a terrible mutual, tbh. My online presence is flaky at best and I rarely look at my dash. I'm happy to chat with my moots if they reach out and I'm happy to interact with them...but I don't really approach them and I go through long periods of time where I miss their content because a) I'm too busy to be on tumblr, b) my fixations have shifted and I don't wanna interact with stuff that's not centered on them, c) I'm feeling particularly tired and/or angry and I'm off tumblr because I know I'm going to lose my temper and lash out at someone.

I try to be nice to people and I try to keep an open mind and I really try to let people do their own thing even if it bothers me. But the thing is?

I'm not a super nice person. I have a minimal tolerance for bullshit and I have a problem with general fandom fuckery. (Like across all fandoms- not just here)

I get angry at fandom and I get angry at my dash and I get angry at myself and, honestly, my presence in fandom is more like a stray cat that wanders in when they're bored or hungry and leaves when I grow bored or irritated by whatever drama is going on that day. I'm selfish and standoffish and, honestly, jealous of a lot of things and people too.

They're not awesome qualities to have in a moot. They're not awesome qualities to have as a person. I try my best to maintain a more positive vibe but, really, it's not always strictly genuine.

And the thing is? It gets tiring trying to pretend that I'm not rolling my eyes at every post on my dash. I'm too old and tired to pretend to like people that get on my nerves. I don't follow those people. I try not to interact with them. I blacklist their tags and I'll block them if they really get under my skin.

I monitor my circle and I do it in a way that's strictly selfish. I refuse to follow someone who sends me into a rant every other day and I'll absolutely dump a mutual if seeing their posts starts to get under my skin. I've done that before and, honestly, it hurt to do that because I did enjoy their content a lot and I thought that we could actually be good friends....I just didn't enjoy them or entertain those daydreams anymore once they decided to dump me like a hot potato.

I've been on all the sides of being a moot- bestie moots, enemies to friends to moots and back to enemies, casual headcanon exchanging moots, the moot that's been dropped because the other found more popular friends + more clout, and the moot that's dropped the other because they started shit talking about things that are Extremely Personal to me and I wasn't about to deal with that.

It sucks being a moot with someone only to find out they've dumped you. And, honestly? That's a veryyyyyyyyy likely possibility when it comes to being moots with me? Which I hate because people don't deserve that and hurt feelings suck and I don't want to upset anyone if I don't have to. But the thing is? I have to monitor my experience on tumblr or I will spiral and become miserable and nuke my chances of being welcome in fandom during an inevitable, public meltdown.

And that means....well that means that things just have to happen naturally?

(God, I'm so sorry I'm rambling but I'm trying so hard to explain myself)

Like. If you come to me and you're like "I wanna be mutuals with you. I wanna be friends" then I'm going to recoil- especially if we've never interacted before. For one, something like that is supremely uncomfortable to me. How can I say no without coming off as a bitch? It feels like a trap- even if it isn't, even if it's purely just enthusiastic and sincere- and I'm a prickly, hermetic person by nature who literally talks to one person irl on a daily basis...who also happens to live with me and is my boyfriend.

I don't seek out friends. I don't seek out relationships. I don't try to make something happen when it comes to people? It just...idk man I have to let it happen naturally or eventually it's gonna blow up in my face because I will feel restless and trapped and resentful. (Even if you literally do nothing wrong. Please understand that I'm a kinda shitty person, I work two jobs and I'm always stressed, and I'm bipolar and unmedicated. Please understand that I try and I'm not using these as excuses but just stating facts- my mental and emotional state are often shit and I lash out at people once my stress becomes too much...which is often these days. That this has happened to me before and I know myself and I'm trying to be truthful and not set up any rosy expectations just to disappoint anyone)

Like...if you still wanna be a moot, all I can say is to just...interact with me? Maybe I'll check out your blog and vibe with what I see????

But there are layers and layers of why I'm Not a good moot and there are layers and layers of reasons I'm not going to follow just anybody just because I'm asked.

I...I don't know. I don't know how to end this and I don't know if this makes any sense at all or if it's too much explanation or not but...

Just...don't have any expectations when it comes to me. I'm making no promises to anyone and I'm trying to be transparent.

I won't be mutuals with someone just because they want me to be. It's gotta happen naturally or it won't happen at all.

And I am sincerely sorry if it causes hurt feelings or if it comes off as rude or mean or bitchy or something. Rejection fucking sucks, you know?

But I have to look out for my mental and emotional health and, unfortunately, that means setting boundaries and limits and monitoring my experience very carefully.

So...yeah.

I'm sorry. I know this is probably super unsatisfying and I'm deeply apologetic over it.

But...yeah. That's that and I'm going to shut up now.

(Sorry)

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Baby Love - Part 9

A/N: OMG its been a while!

Hope your all doing okay 💕

This is just a chapter full of fluff im not gonna lie! 💕

Waking up the day after the premiere i dreaded looking at my phone so i just left it on the side and headed to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I wasn't ready to read all the hateful comments again, as long as i didn't look i could just pretend they didn't exist and enjoy my day with Chris. I switched on the radio and hummed along to the song on the radio as i started cooking the bacon and eggs, i actually felt pretty good.

Once breakfast was ready and i had fed Dodger i headed to the bedroom to wake Chris up, he'd had a few drinks last night and had slept like the dead!

"Hey babe.... wake up i made breakfast" i said leaning against the doorframe as i admired the naked man in front of me... he was laying face down hugging my pillow with the sheets just covering his ass. He cracked one eye and looked at me, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he reached a hand out to me.

"Come back to bed" he mumbled.

"Nope, ive cooked breakfast its getting cold" i chuckled crossing my arms and waiting for him to get up.

"At least come and give me a kiss first"

"I forget how needy you get when your hungover..." i rolled my eyes shaking my head but took the few steps forward and took his hand. Chris pulled me closer and rolled onto his back with a wicked grin. As he pulled me onto the bed with him we both laughed before i leaned forward and gave him the kiss he wanted. I suddenly pulled back with wide eyes looking down at him, i saw the worry flashing over his face.

"What is it? Did i hurt you?" He sat up suddenly trying to work out what was wrong. I slowly shook my head before a smile spread on my face.

"The baby just kicked.... like a proper kick. Not just the little flutters i've been feeling....shit! it did it again!" I laughed grabbing Chris's hand and placing it on my stomach where id been feeling movement.

"I can't feel anything..." he said sadly shaking his head.

"Just wait.... give him a minute"

When the baby kicked again Chris's eyes went wide before he started laughing, excitement in his eyes as he brought his other hand up to cup my baby bump.

"Shit..... i felt that!"

"I told you!"

"That was something else....." he muttered staring at my bump his eyes tearing up, I leant forward pressing a kiss to his lips quickly.

"God i love you"

"I love you too. But come on, your son is hungry.... and mama needs sustenance" i laughed jumping up and rushing back out to the kitchen, i heard Chris laughing behind me and i turned round to catch him following me as he finished pulling on a pair of sweats.

"We're going back to bed after though right?" He asked catching up and wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"I think that can be arranged".

Scott had called around lunch time and Chris had obviously told him all about feeling the baby kicking..... half hour later Scott was at the door!

"Uncle Scott is here to feel the kicks!" He said sounding far too excited when he came bursting through the door.

"Sorry Uncle Scott but your nephew is not very active at the moment" i frowned rubbing a hand over my stomach.

"Thats fine i can wait..... i brought chinese" he smiled holding up the bag of take out, my eyes lit up instantly!

"Ooh did you get..."

"Yes! Of course i got you ribs! Do you take me for a fool??" He asked looking insulted that i would even consider he forgot the ribs.

"Your the best!" I beamed over at Scott suddenly overcome with hunger at the mention of ribs! "Hey babe?...."

"I'll get the pickles" Chris called back before i even asked making me laugh, i could just imagine the looks being exchanged between the brothers but i didn't care. Weird pregnancy cravings were the norm by now. A few seconds later Chris walked in with a plate of ribs, a few pickles on the side.... as soon as the smell reached me i felt the baby kick.

"Hey Scott.... your nephew is kicking!" I called out to Scott who was still plating up his food, be came running out and dramatically dived into the empty seat next to me.

"Hey! Be careful!" Chris scolded his brother shaking his head as he handed me the plate.

"Sorry but i didn't want to miss it again!"

"Give me your hand" i held my hand out for Scotts hand and placed it where i was feeling movement "okay just wait a minute......" i said casually as i tucked in to my food, a moan escaping at how good this food was!

"Jesus, you really like those ribs don't you?" Scott laughed.

"You cant even begin to imagine the satisfaction i get from this right now" i pointed to my plate "its even better than sex!"

"Hey!" Chris moaned looking at me like i spat in his food.

"Im not saying the sex is bad.... because wow i cant get enough of you..."

"Ewww" Scott grumbled making me and Chris laugh.

"Sorry Scotty! But its true!" I took a bite of my pickle and moaned again "honestly, you have no idea how good this is right now".

As if the baby was agreeing he gave a kick right where Scotts hand was resting, his eyes went wide for a few seconds then he was leaning closer talking to my bump, introducing himself as Uncle Scott promising to be the best uncle ever!

"Scott you do know the baby cant hear you" Chris rolled his eyes at his brother as he sat the other side of me.

"Of course he can! Babies can hear in the womb Chris and this baby is gonna know his Uncle Scotts voice!"

I looked at Chris smiling and shaking my head "his right, the baby can hear some stuff.... don't worry" i grabbed Chris's hand "he already knows your voice"

"You don't know that...."

"Sure i do, he moves more when you talk" i smiled "he knows his daddy's voice".

"Promise?"

"Promise".

We eventually finished eating and Scott was happy enough that he had felt the baby kicking. We were halfway through some movie the two of them chose when Scott looked up from his cell phone.

"How was your social media this morning after last night?"

"Not a clue.... i refused to look. I was in a good mood this morning , i didn't need to read all of those shitty comments....it stresses me out and thats no good for the baby....."

"You may be surprised, i've seen nothing but nice things being said. Obviously theres still the odd comment.... but most are saying how their happy for you both"

"Seriously....?" I looked over with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah"

"Wow..... i didn't expect that after the last time i was seen in public with you"

"Anything about the baby?" Chris asked his brother who shook his head.

"Funnily enough no one has mentioned it! Im surprised to be honest i thought they'd be all over that, you weren't exactly hiding that bump of yours"

"Maybe you should make an announcement before it gets out some other way...." i looked at Chris and ran a hand over my swollen belly.

"We can do that if your comfortable with it?...."

"Honestly i just want to be able to leave the house without worrying what i'm wearing, worrying that someone will see that i'm pregnant before we've had the chance to break the news ourselves....."

"Okay..... we'll sort something out".

At some point in the evening i must have fallen asleep because one minute i was watching the movie with Chris and Scott and the next i woke up in bed. The room was dim the only light coming from a lamp on Chris's side of the bed. He was laying close i could tell from his body heat, i was just about to turn to see if he was awake or not when he spoke, but he wasn't talking to me..... he was talking to the baby.

"Hey buddy..... i'm your dad....." he said quietly and i felt him gently stroke my stomach "god i suck at this...." he sighed "i just.... i guess i just wanna make sure you know me and that i love you and your mama so much. I promise i'm gonna take real good care of you both....."

"You already do take care of us" i said quietly reaching a hand up to run through his hair....he looked up at me looking a little embarrassed.

"You wasn't supposed to hear that"

"Are you really worried that the baby won't know who are?" I asked looking into those gorgeous blue eyes of his that i get lost in way too easy!

"Well i wasn't until Scott opened his big mouth but now its all i can think about"

"Chris i promise you your son knows your voice already......"

"How can you be sure?"

"He goes crazy whenever your around especially when your talking"

"He does?...."

"Yep" i smiled moving his hand over to the other side so he could feel the constant kicking currently going on.

"See!"

"Thats kinda crazy"

"I know right?..... so can you please turn off the light and come to bed im exhausted" i chuckled, Chris quickly kissed me and bent to drop a kiss on my baby bump before switching off the lamp. He got into bed pulling me against his chest, his hand spread on the bump and mumbled a goodnight.

"Goodnight.... we love you"

"I love you both too".

I fell asleep with a smile on my face thinking about how god damn sweet this man was and i couldn't help but think about what a great dad he was gonna be.

Baby Love tags: @jennmurawski13 @mybabyboytony @ms-betsy-fangirl @vampgirl1997 @ajosieface @afuckingshituniverse @chmedic @esoltis280 @southerngracela @bethabear12 @letsdisneythings @sellulii @patzammit @katiew1973 @princess-evans-addict @deidrahouseofpain @siren-queen03 @shipatheart @little-dark-empress @barnesandrogersworld @dumblani @xxloki81xx @jesseswartzwelder @lizzyclifford13-blog @booktease21

[tonystarkbingo]

Tony Stark Bingo Party Prompt Meme

http://generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=25057 -- we took tags from this random generator and then made up more detailed prompts from them. These prompts are open use, even if you’re not participating in the bingo, but please tag us if you write one, we’d LOVE to see what you did with it! nonsense + everyone is gay + denial : Tony+harem - Tony, while an incorrigible flirt, does not believe that anyone actually likes him, let alone as many as do. They come up with increasingly ridiculous ideas to ask him out or at least let him know they like him, while he innocently thinks they're all just such awesome friends superpowers + bodice-ripper + sad Stuckony - something set in the Regency(ish) era but with secret superpowers as an added bonus. Let’s of angst over trying to hide their secret powers, and wanting to save people without revealing themselves and also cause they’re gay. clones + nighttime + wishes Coulson/Strange (StrangeAgent? AgentStrange? DrAgent?) - Coulson ends up spending the night in the NY Sanctum. Some of the artifacts happen to be particularly sensitive to subconscious fantasies... and isn't it lucky that cloning himself happens to be one of Strange's powers? cruising + flashbacks + bad boys Winteriron possible future Stuckony - small warning for drinking mention - Tony is driving around to distract himself so he doesn't get drunk. He gets in an accident because he is not actually in a state to drive. The accident is comparatively harmless, the flashback to his convoy being attacked in Afghanistan is less so. When Tony wakes up in the hospital he learns that the person who dragged him from his car to safety is one James "Bucky" Barnes, resident motorbike riding bad boy heartthrob and friend/visitor of Steve "regular ER customer" Rogers, who's his hospital roommate. room service + lifeguards + sharing Tony is a lifeguard who takes his job very seriously. He's attending a convention-slash-training seminar at a posh uptown hotel, but then there's a knock at the door. He opens it to find two room service carts, both with order slips on them that indicate they're actually destined for another room. Rather than call the obviously harried and beleaguered bellboy back, he pushes them down the hall himself and knocks on the door... which is answered by none other than the hot beefcake fellow-lifeguard that's been distracting Tony all day. They end up sharing the enormous amount of food... and then maybe some more. :wink: overthinking + pity sex + customer service Tony just turned 40, he's been friends with Bucky and Nat for forever, and they'd been each other's marriage backups for the longest time, like, if they weren't married at 40, they'd marry whoever wasn't married either in their little trio. Only, two years prior, Buckynat became husband and wife and so he's having a little pity party on his floor at the Tower, drinking virgin mojitos and seriously consider a particular customer service to cheer himself up in one way or another - might as well get an orgasm, as shitty and sad as it may be, it's his birthday ffs - but then Bucky and Nat appear in his elevator, and they pull him off the couch he's been sprawled on for three hours, and Nat is the first to kiss him, and he's too stunned to react much but when he does question wtf is happening, Bucky shushes him and Tony lets him. The next morning he is evidently convinced it was all just pity sex, or a kink of theirs or whatever.... certainly nothing to do with the fact that they've been courting him forever and got tired of waiting for him to step out of ObliviousStarklandia. Of course not. wolves + romantic friendship + wigs Okay, so, someone has been doing an excellent job of hiding his baldness from someone else, with whom he's been in a long term best-friends-but-in-love not-quite-relationship. He's got an elaborate series of wigs, and over the years he's gradually been replacing them with slightly more grey ones so that someone else doesn't realise. Aaaand then someone gets bitten by a werewolf, and when he shifts for the first time he is completely bald and the secret is out. accidental relationship + butt dialing + warlocks Tony Stark is not happy with today's mission, not like there's an occasion to enjoy dealing with magic. But now he's in a relationship with Bucky, which is not bad, that man is gorgeous, but this is not the way. He's ranting about it to Jarvis and doesn't realize that he sat on his phone nor that he dialed the other supersoldier in the team until he hears a muffled laugh beneath him. He's going to kill that warlock smuggling + fear + road-trip okay, a Star Wars AU. Farmboy Peter is fleeing from stormtroopers who found out his parents were Jedi. He runs into smuggler Tony and they take off in Tony's ship for an extended road trip in space. possession + loving marriage + gardens & gardening Pepperony, Morgan insists there's a spirit possessing the garden because she's seen the plants dancing. Turns out they've accidentally created sentient plants and Tony is like nope, call somebody else, I do mechanical engineering and they call Dr. Cho to fix it. The marriage is in there somewhere I promise  idiots in love + bonding + resurrection Ironhawk - Clint tries to get Lucky back after he goes over the rainbow bridge, but he can’t actually read latin and ends up bringing back Tony from the 18th century.  And poor Tony gets Clint as his guide to the 21st.  Shenanigans and eventual fluffy ending improv + cultural appropriation + shield maidens After the Battle of New York, Tony's interviewing Thor about Asguardian tech and learns that they have all kinds of shielding devices, and gets interested in trying to replicate what Thor describes just in case aliens decide to pay a call on Earth again. Thor, for his part, is kinda shocked that Earth doesn't have any such shields, though on the other hand it is Midguard, so. You know. Tony gives it a shot and a couple weeks later he's launching the satellites into orbit for a preliminary test of the shields. He intends to test them with SI tech developed from seized Chitauri tech, but before he can get the chance an alien army shows up, guns blazing and very mad about something. The shields hold, thankfully, and the aliens send a strongly worded letter informing him that he has infringed upon their religious and cultural traditions by putting the Stark logo on them. Their planet was visited centuries ago by time-travelers that greatly influenced their culture, religion, government, etc. These time travelers carried devices with that same Stark Logo on them. The Stark Logo has become a complex cultural symbol over the centuries, and they don't appreciate him using it on war tech, even if on shields. Eventually, they figure out that the time travelers' tech was Tony's tech, and agree to leave in peace, but only after Tony spends a terrifying couple of days trying to improvise his way through a diplomatic disaster with an alien power. vampire family + slapstick + loss WinterIronWidow: So, Natasha's been a vampire for a long time, and she's lonely, so she decides to take on some mates, enter established relationship WinterIron. She vampirises them, which leads to Tony having fits about GARLIC and my god, I'm ITALIAN, you horrible woman!  And Bucky's like "I'm... CATHOLIC?? OM-- I can't even say G-- now??" awkwardness + chatting & messaging + shyness Tony doesn't understand why everytime Bucky comes into the lab, Dum-E tends to drop whatever he's holding and go hide in his charging station. Dum-E's always a bit clumsy and silly but this is more than usual and Tony's worried that Dum-E doesn't like Bucky or something like that. Anyway after much discussion, with JARVIS as translator and go-between, it turns out that Dum-E has developed a bit of a crush on Bucky's fancy robotic arm. Which ends up of course being a hilarious & awkward situation for all involved. candles + explosions + blind date tony gets bullied by pepper to go on a blind date to get out of his funk, she insists that this Matt Murdock character is the perfect date and Tony will like him. reluctantly tony goes to fancy restaurant and meets Matt Murdock and they hit it off instantly the little snarky assholes. they have a nice dinner by candle light and it's all going so well up until dessert when they order some kind of chocolate lava cake which was tragically not cooked properly and ends up exploding on both of them and bam they fall in love and live happily ever after skeleton puns + reincarnation + deus ex machina A snap, that was all it took to snuff out something so bright amidst the rubble of what was once New York City, and, with Tony gone for good, the living seem rather, well…dead. Until, one day, someone they all thought long dead returned to them, a blue cube glowing in his grip and a sweet promise of a new beginning dripping from his lips. But of course, no new beginning comes without a price laundry + tenderness + dialogue “I hate laundry,” Morgan declared after trying to refold her sweatshirt for the seventh time. “Me too kiddo,” Tony whispered back, sneaking a glance over his shoulder to Pepper who was putting clothes into the wash. “But that’s why we do it together. It gets done and we don't have to do it alone.” world domination + paranoia + everything hurts Tony knew what was coming, he knew. He’d seen the future and he knew. The Kree were coming - why would no one believe him? Not his husband, not the team, not even his own son. He kept convincing them they had to suit up and defend the planet and Steve and Peter kept telling him that a engineering professor from Cal Tech can’t do that, that this suit he talks about is only in his delusions. But he’s not paranoid. Or crazy. Or any of those other words. He is Iron Man. He just has to convince everyone else. feels + useless lesbians + Santa's workshop Toni doesn’t think anyone could accuse her of overflowing with Christmas spirit. That hasn’t stopped the rest of the Avengers from turning the “festive cheer�� dial up to eleven, and Toni thinks she might just have to spend the whole next month hiding in her workshop. (Hey, she let DUM-E wear a Santa hat – that has to count for something.) Too bad Jamie Barnes – cyborg superassassin extraordinaire, Captain America’s best friend, and Toni’s big gay crush – has gotten the exact same idea. Now the rest of the team thinks they’ve got a “thing,” and Toni can’t decide which is worse: putting up with the Avengers’ not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, or spending all her time with the woman she loves and who she is absolutely, 100%, totally certain doesn’t reciprocate. Getting through this holiday season without having her heart broken might just take… a Christmas miracle. shapeshifting + secret organizations + nurses “C. Barton - Orderly.”  That’s what his tag said.  But only a very few people knew exactly what kind of hospital Saint Natalis actually was, and just how busy they could be during the full moon. kissing games + pirates + book stores Tony always thought that the shop had a mind of its own. The books were one thing, whispering their secrets to patrons who managed to find their way to it. Jarvis always did warn him not to touch any of the artifacts. The "DO NOT TOUCH" signs plastered all over the crates. So maybe it was his fault that he managed to summon 'Buccaneer Barnes' after touching the shiny pirate sword. "Let's play a game. If you win, I'll help you put all those runaway monsters that jumped out of the books. If I win, you owe me a kiss. Whatdaya say Stark?"

[bionicdragonguardian1]

Ranma 2/4

Yup... I’m doing it... yes this how I plan, shut up

Part One: Chapters 1-12

Genderfluid Ranma Saotome

Bisexual Akane Tendo

BAMF!Akane if it kills me

More modern America take on LGBTQIA+ themes

Bisexual Ryoga Hibiki

Fuck the Kunos

Full Series AU because I am a fool who doesn’t know restraint

Magic Rules are a thing

I am actually going to keep a consistent timeline if it kills me

I have a PLAN

Very Minor changes to the actual plot cuz economics

Bad Parenting is addressed

Harassment is Addressed

I will make them acknowledge Physics/Medical because I’m an asshole

Pulling from both the Anime and the Manga

Still working through the Manga as I plot

Friendly reminder that Genma is crap

Friendly reminder that Nodoka is crazy

Poor Mousse

Soun Tendo TRIES really hard but grief fucking sucks

Nabiki is morally grey

Toxic Shampoo

Kasumi gets Character Development or so help me

polyship cuz surprises

I promise I do love this anime

I’m just stunned that so many people didn’t get a lot of character development

Actual fucking ENDING

I do actually hate Shampoo tho

I watch dubs

Ranma slowly starts using they/them pronouns vs switching

Ranma wears a bra, fuck you

Yes I’m using 2020 LGBT stuff BUT I will keep the tech as close to the 90s as I can (tho fair warning I was BORN in the 90s)

Toxic Masculinity addressed (yes I mean Ranma’s)

Ranma is awkward as hell

bc that’s what happens when you isolate a child, Genma!

Also, they spent closer to 1-2 months in China bc of how many things happen while they’re there

Homophobic/Transphobic Language

Ranma uses Ranko WAY more often cuz it makes sense

Tatewaki is actually not as stupid as he is in canon, but he’s worse

Kodachi… on the other hand... IS stupid

Canon Heights are used (hence the “actual magic” tag, it’s how Kuno explains it and is still wrong)

Ranma is a shitty liar, and trusts his friends (kinda)

I’ve never like Shampoo, I don't hide that

While reading the manga I’ve realized how often Ranma wears a hat in the early chapters

I love it

Laws Exist

Rule Enforcement

Adults aren’t useless

Demiromantic Ranma

Ace/Demisexual Ranma (I haven’t decided yet)

Demiromantic Akane

Pansexual Ryoga

YES Akane is Bisexual AND Demiromantic. It’s a thing!

Genma is a sonnova bitch and piece o shit

Diasuke x Hiroshi

Sayuri x Yuka

Polyamory discussions

Hiroshi x Yuka

Protective Ranma

Protective Akane

Protective Ryoga

Tendos adopt Ryoga bc they care

Cologne sucks, I didn’t realize that was justified until now

Minor Anime over Manga Arc Choices

People aren’t oblivious those around Ranma a lot pick up on the transformation thing (eventually)

Ryoga’s crush on Akane turns into something normal, I may be ~Aro but even I know that’s bad

The “Akane Can’t Cook” Joke was funny once or twice; NOT the whole series Akane learns to cook

WAY fucking sooner than she did in the Anime

Look, I get the stereotype but it’s NOT funny!

Manga Chapt6Pt3 cover gave me too many ideas for what I want to do to Ryoga & IDK how I feel (Tiny pigtailed girl Ryoga is just too cute that I want to drop him the niángnìquán)

I will use Wiki-Mandarin-Spellings for Jusenkyo Springs cuz I don’t understand a lick of Chinese

Certain Arcs will be skipped entirely because I HATED THEM (any time they showed up)!

YEET Tea Ceremony Arc(s), mainly cuz an outsider I didn’t get it like I’m sure I was supposed to

If I could just kill Happosai I would, but I can’t

Expect him to be VERY dead/gone post-Canon

Fair warning tho cuz I hate him more than I hate Shampoo or Cologne

Shampoo still sucks

I wish the scene w Hiro/Dai was in the Anime cuz it’s hilarious

Ranma’s hat is back! I love it!

Is… is Ranma ADHD or is that me projecting again?

God, these two are hopeless dorks

Was someone going to TELL me that Ranma’s classmates figured out the transformation BEFORE the Romeo thing or was I just supposed to sit there stunned when it happened?!?

Goddammit, I hate Romeo and Julliet

I don’t mean the ep, I mean the play/movie/etc cuz my school years have done it 1.6 million times that I just can’t stand it anymore

Gosunkugi… wtf is wrong with you?

STILL hate this play

I’m American, ok

this has been shoved down my throat since I was 8 so It never occured to me that Ranma not knowing Romeo & Julliet at all wouldn’t be weird

Ranma learns his lines (kinda)

Kuno is 600% the reason they go off script

...And Gosunkugi being creepy af

TBH where they go off script (like Akane’s sleep scene) I’ll probs redo purely cuz I know this play

Still hate this play

Lol, tape ain’t a thing, that’s hilarious

Ranma kissing Kuno, yes

Akane kissing Ranma, NO

It’s called FAKING it

You either get over it or learn to fake it

Is it wrong that it’s tempting to get rid of P-chan in chapt8?

Don’t answer that… I know it is

Akane you need to learn to trust Ranma

Like seriously… that’s the 1 thing that drove me batty

100% going for the Anime version of the Japanese Speong of Drowned Man cuz it’s funnier

(I’m still tempted to change Ryoga)

Since the Cookie thing came before any comment about Akane’s cooking (Anime) I just figured Ranma was like me and can’t eat a ton of processed sugar (yes, make you that sick) so... HEADCANON!!

But Ranma’s still awkward af talking about it

Yup, subbing out Sasuke for Gosunkugi

Ranma not realizing his dad was committing crimes NEEDS to be handled better

I see angst potential

Ukyo is def still cis-fem, that point at least works

Ukyo’s dad is NOT in the clear here

Friendly reminder that Genma TOLD Mr. Kuonji that Ranma had a fiancée

Jealous Ranma’s fun

Ranma… just cuz you’ve 6.5k fiancé doesn’t mean everyone does

I’m just saying, Ryoga only falls for Ranma

Is Ranma wearing a binder while cursed bad? I honestly don’t know…

Poor Ranma, I’d DIE!

Obvs changing the rules of the pill from “first person of the opp sex”

I’m thinking “first person you’d be attracted to” cuz it’s nice and inclusive and won’t make someone fall for someone they wouldn’t normally

I’m just tryin’ to avoid some gayboy from fallin’ for a girl or some straight girl fallin’ for a girl

I mean Ranma’s still gonna Insta Cologne

Rule gets stricter the longer the pill lasts

also incest needs to be excluded

Look, I am NOT condoning Mousse’s obsession

but Shampoo still sucks

Is me making Tsubasa mtf bad?

Someone tell me cuz I’m not sure

I think I accidentally made Ukyo transphobic… oops

Redemption? Hopefully, idk yet

Do you realize how much anti LGBT shit I have to work through?!?

Tsubasa’s issue is 600% that she’s a lesbian so Ranma being a guy (even sometimes) weirds her out which for the record is FINE since they haven’t been dating at all & Ranma didn’t tell her!

The ½ white ½ brown dog IS actually Ryoga’s?!?

I didn’t know I needed this!

Also she’s staying!

Is Sasuke an Anime character?!?! Idk how I feel about this…

Ranma is a little shit & I love it

My idea may’ve been wrong (and Ranma!) but I love the idea had that I’m tempted do it anyway

Alright, Ranma is def going too far… even I can admit that

I’m quite sad this arc wasn’t animated

I don’t know which one I want! Kuno sick vs sneezing cat?

I can’t pick!

They’re both perfect!

Yup, Shampoo is evil

Akane… tone down the weapons kay?

[onthepyre]

nyc streets

CHAPTER 4

TW: crying, anxious virgil, also my dislike for organized religion kinda jumped out

Summary: Roman and Virgil have dinner

Pairing: eventual prinxiety

A/N: so sorry for the radio silence!  school got hard and i had tech week for a show

read it on ao3

1 / 2 / 3 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

The nearest soup kitchen was nearly a mile away.  Roman could hardly keep up with Virgil as he sped along, dodging through alleys and between tourists traps.  By the time they stood beneath the looming arches, Roman’s feet hurt and his lungs burned.  Virgil threw open the door, waving Roman inside.  

“Normally we’d go in the back,” Virgil began, “but since you’ve never been here I figured I’d show you the chapel.”  He swung his arms out in a lazy gesture to the room around him.

Roman was dumbstruck.  The religious symbols meant nothing to him, but the stained glass windows were intricate and the statues were detailed and it felt wrong because it seemed so expensive yet Virgil had told him the food was bad.  They could spend seemingly millions on decoration, but couldn’t spare enough to serve decent meals?  Roman thought Christianity was supposed to be about loving others, not who had the best painting of a dead guy.

“It’s… so much.”  Roman ran a hand down the side of a velvet-covered pew.

“Yeah.”  Virgil fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket as he spoke.  “It’s a lot.  You don’t get used to it, either.”

Roman looked around, at the statues of a dying Jesus and the massive crosses and the gigantic windows.  “Can we go to the kitchen now?”  Virgil nodded and stepped off.

He led Roman through winding staircases and thin hallways until, at long last, they stopped before the kitchen.  A crowd of people milled around the waiting area, all talking as loudly as possible.  And all smelling like death.

Roman figured he probably didn’t smell much better, but this many people with limited access to showers in such close proximity wasn’t a pleasant scent.  Instead of complaining, he turned to Virgil and asked, “When do we get to eat?”

Virgil scanned the room for a clock.  “Fifteen minutes,” he said.

“Is there, like, etiquette that I should know?” 

“Don’t jump the line.  Don’t take more than your fair share.”  Virgil shrugged.  “Don’t be a shithead.”  

Roman grinned.  “Can’t promise anything.”  He turned away, taking in the crowd.

There was more variation than he thought.  There were plenty of people that looked like he expected, with layers upon layers of unwashed clothing, but just as many seemed like any upper-middle-class suburban family.  There was a tall man in a crisp suit, a woman in heels, someone his age in a college sweatshirt.  A little girl clung to her mother’s pleated skirt.  A pair of highschoolers held hands on the edge of a crowded couch.  And Roman couldn’t help but wonder where he fit into the strange puzzle.

As if he could hear Roman’s thoughts, Virgil began to speak again.  “They feed anyone.  Doesn’t matter if you walked miles for your only meal today or you drove five blocks because you didn’t feel like making dinner.  They’ve got enough to sustain a small army.”  Roman smiled.  They lapsed into half-hearted conversation for a few minutes before Virgil went quiet.  It seemed to Roman that he shrunk inches within moments.  He crossed his arms, leaned against the wall behind him.

“V?”  Roman asked.  “Are you okay?”  He placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulder, which he shrugged off.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just…”  Virgil sucked in a deep breath,  “A lot of people.”  He scratched at the back of his neck.

“Do you want to go outside?”

“Nah, dinner’s in a few minutes.  I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”  Roman raised his eyebrows, unconvinced.  “We can be late.”

“Yeah.”  Virgil nodded far too enthusiastically, concerning Roman more.  “As long as we can get a table by ourselves.”

Before Roman could protest, a man emerged from the doors opposite where they’d entered.  The room fell silent, and Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.

“Come on in,”  the man shouted.  “Spaghetti and meatballs tonight.”  Roman grinned, but Virgil groaned beside him.

“Their spaghetti is the worst,” he whispered.  “It’s food, but it’s the worst meal they have here.”  They fell into the chattering line as Virgil complained.  “The sauce is essentially ketchup and the noodles look like worms.  The meatballs are always cold.”

“I think I can choke it down.”  Roman’s stomach had been growling for hours.  

When they finally reached the front of the line, Virgil’s face lit up.  “Gina!”  He gave a half-grin to the girl who scooped his worm-spaghetti out of the tray.

“Virge!  How goes it?”  She smiled back as she dumped a ladle of sauce onto the plate.

“I’ve adopted,” he said, glancing at Roman.

“Nice to meet you, my dude.  I’m Gina.”

“Roman.”  He stuck out his hand, but she waved gloved fingers at him instead.

“Sorry.  Sanitation.”  Roman nodded.

“Come sit with us if you get the time,”  Virgil said, and moved along.  Roman followed, collecting as much food as he could along the line.  He scanned the room full of different sized tables.  Virgil spotted one with two chairs in the back of the room and darted towards it, Roman at his heels.

They sat and dug in.  Virgil picked at the spaghetti, eating small bites, while Roman shovelled forkful upon forkful into his mouth.  It tasted exactly like Virgil had described it, but he didn’t care.  He was starving.

“Ro.  Calm down,”  Virgil scolded.  “It’s not like it’s been months since you’ve had shitty pasta.”

“Feels like it,”  Roman said around a mouthful of meatballs.  Virgil rolled his eyes.

“It still isn’t mom’s homemade spaghetti or anything.”  Roman stopped chewing to look up at him.  Virgil dropped his fork, held out his hands.  “Wait, no, I didn’t mean to like, glorify your parents or anything.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”  He swallowed.  “My mom made really good spaghetti.  I forgot how great her cooking was.”  And he was crying again, in the middle of a soup kitchen.

“Oh, Ro, I’m so sorry.”  Virgil’s hand shot across the table and grabbed his arm.  The touch brought Roman back.  He scrubbed at his eyes and picked up his fork.

“You’re fine.”  He shot Virgil a watery grin.  “I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They ate and left quickly, waving goodbye to Gina as she served seconds.  They stepped outside and Roman was instantly freezing.  He zipped up his stolen hoodie, but still shivered against the cold.

“It’s a bit nippy,”  Roman said as he flipped up his hood.

“You’re just cold-blooded.”  But Virgil pressed closer to him anyway, slipping his arm around Roman’s waist.

“It’s only October.”  He threw one arm around Virgil’s shoulder and shoved the other in his pocket.  “How are we going to do this during winter?” 

“We bundle up and stay close.”

And so they did stay close, for the whole walk home and all through the night.

TAGS: @datfearlessfangirl

[panticwritten]

“are you finishing that or…?” “Do it. I dare you.” But together in the same prompt. >:3

This took me so long to write because I kept having to stand up and walk away toward the end. I’m weak for fluff and shit but I almost never write it.

Anyway, content warning for blood drinking at the very beginning (the vampire’s here for two seconds) and sort of amnesia.

Tag list and the scene are under the cut!

@spirit-wizard-nerd @alextriestowritestuff @samueldeckerthompson @ishanijasmin @the-real-rg @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @authorarsinoe @asinwolves @cadewrites @fandomloverangel 

—-

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know what you asked and I’ll tell you again.” Jess sucks on the the tube of a bloodbag like a bendy straw. “He works Tuesday through Saturday, noon to six.”

I grind my teeth but don’t press it. If they don’t want to help, I’m not gonna change that by force. They’re like Sawyer that way. They are Sawyer that way.

“You’ll have to find him yourself.” They raise an eyebrow and lean back on their stool. “Or, you know. Ask the Cube-slash-Sawyer where he is.”

“I’m not doing that,” I say flatly. I huff at their shrug and hop off my own seat. I’ll be able to find him myself.

“Nine tonight, don’t be late!” they call out behind me. “And you’ll have to talk to them eventually!”

I wave my coffee cup at them vaguely without looking back. It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to them, I just… you know. I need to talk to Dominic, remind myself he didn’t actually die.

I push out of the Lounge and look into the In-Between from the entryway’s floor to ceiling windows. It’s definitely a view. It tickles something in the back of my head to look at from this vantage, from inside the Cube.

I shake my head and go on through the next door into the Cube itself. I’ll run into someone who knows where he is eventually. Hopefully. If I’m not too terribly unlucky.

He might be able to help me fill in these gaps in my memory. It all kinda feels like a dream now that I’m not just astral projecting or whatever. Fuzzy and not quite together enough to remember all the way. My memories of the Vampire have solidified after hanging around them a few days, hopefully I’ll get the rest of them cleared up.

There are some things…

Yeah, I need to talk to Dominic. 

All of the doors in this area are empty. They don’t connect to a specific universe, at least. The signs over them all read vacant. Knowing what I know about the different universes I’m not so sure. There’s someone out there.

V was there before Breaking Furnace, after all. I haven’t brought it up to them yet, but it makes sense! There have to be others! V was too focused on Furnace to also have been running other universes.

Ugh, it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for V. If I keep thinking about them, the Cube’ll just take me to their door instead of to Dominic.

I really missed this place. I can’t believe I was ever okay with leaving. With staying away when I could be somewhere that listens. Sometimes it can have a weird sense of humor, but it usually isn’t mean. 

Last time I saw Dominic—really saw him—was at the river. Cold, hurt, and so goddamn loyal he dragged Gamzee under at the cost of his own life. I hope I gave him a piece of my mind about that when I was ghosting around. I just don’t remember. 

I sigh and down a few gulps of coffee. Jess must have made this bottomless—I’m sure I’ve poured at least two mugs full down my throat at this point.  

Maybe I’ll just do it again, even if it turns out I did. After I see him and my bones stop vibrating. After I know how much of what I remember was real* and how much was just wishful thinking. Before I get to the other person I really do need to get around to talking to.

I’ll do that eventually. I have to stop jumping up the second they need me, though. They’re a big kid—they’re in college now and everything—they’ll be fine without me for a few more days.

…

Or not if I don’t stop thinking about them like a dumbass.

I lift a hand and feel the edges of the Cube’s consciousness. It’s not that hard, with how close to being Collective I am. I figure, maybe, if it won’t just tune into me and take me where I want to go I can just, you know. Ask it to take me there? Maybe?

If I can wave a hand and make tables and shit, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to do this.

It doesn’t always feel the same. It depends on what Sawyer’s brain is doing and how they are, I guess. Today, it’s kind of like sticking my hand into a whirlpool of, like. Static. And glass.

That’s worrisome. Tomorrow, I swear I’ll go talk to them tomorrow.

I flex my fingers and dig into the fabric of thought there. I’m still not sure if Sawyer knows when I do this kind of thing. Whether it’s really the capricious Cube that answers this kind of request or if it’s them.

I guess this is sort of what Jess wanted me to do in the first place.

Still, the question of where to go buzzes over my fingers and into the world around me. It sits there, the whirlpool jagged and grating on my own mind, while I walk on. I don’t get an answer, exactly, but I do see the next turn up ahead change from a left turn to a right turn.

It’s probably the best I’m going to get. I yank my hand back and motherfucker, I hate the tingling it leaves. My entire hand has that shitty almost-numb buzz, enough that I just grimace and tip my head back to chug my drink until I round the corner.

I almost choke and stop dead. I never actually thought about. What I was gonna say when I found Dominic. 

He hasn’t even seen me yet, though Jay’s gaze locks on me from the other end of the sizeable hallway. Their smile turns wry. They tilt their head only slightly, then return their attention to Dominic.

I don’t know what they say. I don’t need to know. He freezes on the spot and jerks his head up in response, whatever it is.

After a long beat of mutual wide-eyed staring, he grins and says something—he’s still too far away to really hear—and starts toward me.

At a fucking run.

“Coming in!” he crows about halfway to me and holy shit he isn’t— 

It would be really funny if I could complete the meme, but I kinda blank out for a second. Between the realization of what this idiot is doing and the second I have to catch him, I must have dropped the coffee because of course I did.

I stumble back because, okay, Nick’s kind of a big guy. His momentum, legs locked around my middle, knocks the breath from my lungs, the carefree laughter I’ve never heard from him keeps my throat a little choked up.

So maybe it’s understandable that my first nonsensical thought is that he might actually be trying to suffocate me when he kisses me. It shorts something out in my head. He wisely jerks back when my legs give out and I end up flat on my back.

With Dominic sitting on my chest and smiling at me like he didn’t just, like, try to kill me or something, his face—his eyes—maybe six inches from mine.

“That answers that question,” I wheeze with a thin laugh.

He cocks his head and sits back. “What question?”

“How’s that memory coming?”

Dominic jolts—meaning, he squeezes the air out of my lungs again—and twists to look at Jay, who stands over us just behind him. They aren’t looking at him, though. Their level gaze sits on me. So does their phone camera.

“Better than it was.” I huff and try to sit up. Without any prompting, Dominic shuffles back just enough that I can lever myself upright. He stays in my lap, though, which is a little bit of a comfort. “I think they just need, uh, reinforcement.”

Something sparks—literally—in their eyes. They don’t comment, though. In fact, they pocket their phone and start back the way they came with a shrug. “I doubt you’ll find many complaints on that front.”

They wink before they actually turn around. I’d throw something at them if I weren’t. You know. On the ground and also finally face to face with the boy.

And, of the many brilliant and witty things I could say, I land on…

“You made me drop my coffee,” I inform him blandly.

He leans bodily back and, hey! I catch sight of my mug, which somehow managed to land upright with just a ring of coffee that must have splashed out. I reach for it when he hooks a finger into the handle and sits back up.

The fucker doesn’t give it to me.

“What’s wrong with your memory?” he asks brightly with my caffeine held hostage.

“Brain machine broke,” I mutter. “Turns out, a slice of a person doesn’t make very reliable records.”

He blinks once, twice, then sets the cup to the side.

“It’s not a big deal,” I assure him. “I just need to, uh. Do the whole memory association thing.”

“I just—” He reaches out and seems to change his mind a couple times before he just rests his hands on my shoulders. “What all do you remember?”

I make an uncertain sound in the back of my throat. “We hung out a lot, right? And there were some flashes, of—”

I look away and he squeezes my shoulders reassuringly.

“Anyway, the short answer is not much.”

I jolt when he snorts. His head drops down against my shoulder, his hands trail down my arms in his laughter and I do not know what to think about that. 

“I can’t believe you caught me!” He cackles into my shirt. “The Cube screwed up your memory and you just went with it.”

It takes a beat for me to decide that, yes, I’m probably allowed to, and cling to him, fingers dug into the back of his shirt. He still trembles in now-silent laughter.

Thank christ I was right about all this.

He straightens up suddenly and his concern even alarms me.

“Crap, I kissed you, I’m sorry.” He shifts back, and I have a feeling if I didn’t tighten my grip he would be standing up. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have—”

“I promise, it’s fine,” I say a little too fast.

It takes a few seconds, long enough for him to make sure I’m not lying, I assume, but his worry slowly melts back into a gently smug smile. It smacks me right into a memory.

A good day. A view of the In-Between. Scars, sharing, and a shit-eating grin over a plate of stupid cucumber sandwiches. It flits through my mind in an instant, doesn’t give me time to recover before Nick rolls a leading look at my coffee. 

“So, are you finishing that, or…”

I level as calm a gaze as I can at him. I want nothing more than to snatch that cup, but come on. Come on.

“Do it.” I don’t think I quite manage to keep the smile out of my voice or the laugh in my head from leaking into the air around us, but I’m not about to let that stop me. “I dare you.”

He doesn’t wait before he grabs it and downs it.

Or, he tries to. It’s a bottomless cup of black coffee, okay, and the guy has a sweet tooth. He lasts maybe five seconds before he splutters out a perfect spit take and coughs into the cup.

I mean, we’re both covered in coffee now. Does that make it any less worth it when I take the mug and take a long drink?

No, it absolutely does not.

[giranswife]

Tagged - Q & A

Pick one of your muses. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were your muse in a new post. Tag five people to do this meme.

Tagged by @self-shipping-angel

Ooooo this is fun, I’m going to do Ash for this! Her attitude was just fun to write for these XD

1. What is your name?

Not going to just release my real name like that, but I go by Ash now. My full name is Ashley, but I dropped that a long time ago. But it’s the female werewolf as far as you’re concerned.

2. What is your real name?

Not using my real name, like I said. I’m a villain, not an idiot.

3. Do you know why you’re called that?

Not really. I never knew my parents, so I can’t tell yah why. Not that I care all too much considering they didn’t care enough about me so.

4. Are you single or taken?

Taken. Not that it’s any of your business anyway. I wouldn’t try anything, Gi.ran’s kinda not the kinda bitch to mess with. Neither am I though.

5. Have any abilities or powers?

I’m a werewolf. A scary one at that.

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah.

Bitch. Go fuck yourself with a rake.

7. What’s your eye color?

Like a baby blue, I guess.

8. How about your hair color?

Blonde, but I died the tips of my hair purple. I’m thinking about going full purple eventually. Gi.ran seems to really want me to...

9. Have you got any family members?

Not anymore. Good riddance too.

10. Oh? What about pets?

Nope. Not really a pet person, though I don’t necessarily hate animals. I just can’t take care of them, plus Gi.ran would kill me if I brought one home. I do have pet pack wolves I can call very easily, if you ever wanna try something.

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

Annoying people. Well, that’s not true, because I hate people that think they’re above it all way more. But if we’re talking just something in general... I guess... stupid questionnaires. 

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

Sleeping... and eating.

13. Ever hurt anybody before?

Oh yeah. I mean... I’m a villain... it’s what we do best.

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

Yep. Mostly not unless I have to, but if someone gets in my way I can’t make any promises. Unless you count my shitty abusive uncle.

15. What kind of animal are you?

......what part of werewolf do you not fucking understand.

16. Name your worst habits.

*narrows eyes* Why should I tell you that... well you said worst habits and not weaknesses so... I dunno I guess I’m a little emotional and loud. I tend to get really angry very easily. the wolf inside me gets super territorial, and it’s not so good. I cuss a lot, but I find that to be colorful speech if anything else. God damn t, I’m starting to sound like Gi.ran.

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Uh.... is myself an option? Nah, I’m fucking joking. Honestly... I look up to a few villains, but I won’t say names because then they’ll get cocky as all hell. We don’t need that. And I guess I kinda look up to Gi.ran in a way. Not like... fully because he’s got his own shit, but... I don’t know I always liked certain aspects of him that I don’t have. Like he’s actually pretty smart and savvy and I wish I was like that.

18. Gay, straight or bisexual?

Oh, I’m a flaming bisexual.

19. Do you go to school?

I dropped out of high school. Pretty much taught myself after that.

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Hell no. I mean... technically we’re married, but that was all after a drunken night. I’m still not sure if this is... whatever I didn’t plan for this. But kids, I definitely don’t want. I’d rather not bring kids into this life... I wouldn’t be a good mother anyway. Besides, have you seen the guy I’m with?

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

Pffttt. I’m sure there are fans for us villains, but I haven’t met any. I’ll let you know if I do, because that’d be hilarious.

22. What are you most afraid of?

Nothing. Alright, fine, I’ll humor you. I guess being forever alone. Contrary to my attitude, I actually don’t like being alone. At least not now that I’m used to having someone with me... ( cue her making sure Gi.ran isn’t leaving her XD)

23. What do you usually wear?

A crop top and ripped jeans. Sometimes I’ll wear a leather jacket or a plaid shirt. Gi.ran sometimes buys me fancy shit, but I don’t wear it unless I have too. Although, the fishnets are really cute. Sometimes he gets my style.

24. Do you love someone?

......I uh.. that’s a very personal question. But I mean, I wouldn’t have this ring on my finger, if I uh, didn’t.

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

I’ll give you about ten second head start, then I’m shredding your clothes for that question.

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

Oh, great. I totally wanted to spend my afternoon answering stupid ass questions.

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

Well, I started off low class with little money to my name, but now that I’m living with Gi.ran I guess I’d consider middle to high. More high with how much fucking fancy shit I have around me a lot of the time. It’s more than I’m used to, but... oh well he’s paying.

28. How many friends do you have?

Not many. I mean, I don’t really consider a lot of the league friends. Except Dabi and Himiko. Though, I do have two friends named Sayeko ( @self-shipping-angel and Mai ( @wispy-selfship-eden ).

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

I’ve only had it once, but it was fucking delicious. Maybe I’ll have some tonight.

30. Favorite drink?

Tea. Oh, and coffee. I can’t go a morning without my fucking coffee. It’s like a drug to me and it’s what helps me wake up in the morning.

31. What’s your favorite place?

Home. It’s been a lot of different places these past few years, but... w Gi.ran it feels the most like home. Just don’t fucking tell him I said that. He’ll never leave me alone about it.

32. Are you interested in someone?

Uh,,,, yeah? Do you even listen.

33. What’s your cup size and/or how big is your willy?

PFFFTTTT. Bitch, you wish you knew, didn’t you?

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or ocean?

Ocean. Lake’s are usually kinda gross. I’d live by the ocean if I could.

35. What’s your type?

I don’t fucking know, really. It’s changed a lot over the years. Usually I like strong, sarcastic types. Apparently I’m into older men.

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

Wouldn’t you like to know? You know, if you’re not fucking me, I don’t see the reason to answer any of this.

38. Camping or indoors?

Both are good. I like indoors whenever it’s hot, but outdoors whenever its cold. Gi.ran has totally had to stop me on many occasions during the fall because I will want to sleep outside.

39. Are you wanting the quiz to end?

Yeah, I got better shit to be wasting my time with.

40. Now it’s over! Tag five people:

Sure, whatever. Least it’s over.

Not gonna be tagging anyone, just if you want to do it you can! lololol

[ambiencespectrum]

Rococo Kids

Fandom: Homestuck. Pairing: Dave Strider <> Rose Lalonde. Words: 5,060. Additional Tags: One Shot, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Hurt/Comfort. Cuddling & Snuggling. Trigger Warnings: temporary character death, suicide attempt, past child abuse.

AO3 version.

A/N: i haven’t written for these two in ages, let alone ever actually posted on tumblr for them. guess it’s time to try it.

He finds her floating there, suspended and pale. The full-length lavender dress she’s wearing is drifting like smoke around her form, loose as the pale hair haloing her head. The black of her lips stand out stark against her ivory skin, smudged on the left side like a bleeding ink stain.

Like this, Dave unwillingly thinks of how some people would describe his sister as unearthly and beautiful. Mostly, he just thinks this is sad.

“Dammnit, Rose,” He mutters, and lets his sneaker skim the surface of the pool. The one Rose has drowned herself in. “We talked about this shit.”

She remains as still and lifeless as she has for the past five minutes- exactly that, as Dave has that thought- and he sighs. Sometimes Rose has the sense to let resurrection do its thing and get back up on her own, and sometimes it’s like this.

Rose floats along the aqua green bottom of her pool, encased in water that is clearer than glass. The only disturbance of the surface comes from Dave’s brief toeing of it, adding to that impression.

Dave kinda really hates looking at her like this, even if he gets it. Kanaya is away with Karkat and won't be back for at least another few days; special moirail retreat from the public eye. Like Rose clearly has, Dave has also been getting away with things while his partner is absent. He only came by to see Rose because... he's not sure. Maybe because he wanted her to talk him out of stuff, or maybe because he somehow sensed he needed to talk her out of stuff.

Looks like he's too late to, fuck.

He captchalogues his sneakers, socks, and hoodie, and lets himself fall out of the air above the water. The pool is practically frigid as he splashes into it, and Dave is even less impressed with how his night is going. He swims downwards in long strokes, descending towards his sister. His aviators stay on his face probably from sheer force of will.

Rose is limp and colder than ice as he grabs her; the dress’s long folds tangling them both as Dave kicks around for a moment, remembers he can just fly them out, and does so. Pulling her out of the water takes away the effect of weightlessness, and Rose nearly drags him off balance as her stupidly heavy dress acts like deadweight.

Not that Rose isn’t literal deadweight, hanging in his arms like giant stiff porcelain doll. It’s only a little less disturbing than it could be, since this isn’t the first time.

Dave’s hair sticks to his sunglasses as he flies them to the edge, water dripping everywhere from them both. He sets his sister down gently on the tiles, sitting back a few feet and waiting for the rebound to start.

Only a Just or Heroic death can kill a god. Rose dunking herself in the nearest waterbody, for whatever reason it is tonight, hardly counts.

Rose jerks a few minutes later- two and twenty-six seconds, she’s resisting only a little now- and gaudy multicolor light covers her body. It’s blinding, and then fades to reveal that life has colored Rose’s cheeks again. Of course, Rose also starts choking on the residual water in her throat.

Dave rolls Rose on her side as she coughs violently, rubbing her bare back as she spits chlorine filled water onto the pool deck. The backless dress remains wet despite the resurrection because God Tier shit only extends to their game clothes. This is probably a lovely number Kanaya made for her wife, and while Dave knows shit all about fabrics, he thinks his sister has ruined it thoroughly.

Rose shivers and keeps taking gasping breaths, recovering from being dead for- Dave checks the history around Rose, and finds she’s been down for five hours and twelve minutes.

And she didn’t even text him before she did it. That hurts in a weird, uncomfortable way, and Dave doesn’t appreciate the feeling.

He’s mad at her, because they promised each other, but he’s also got no leg to stand on right now.

So Dave doesn’t point out that Rose broke their promise. He just slides an arm under her side as she settles from the coughing fit and helps her to sit up. Her dress sticks to her everywhere, revealing quite clearly Rose Lalonde, co-queen of a kingdom, goddess of insight and luck and light, saw fit to discard her bra tonight and wear a dress that goes sheer when wet.

Dave knows more than he’d like to know about Rose’s body, considering the years between them, and the years they spent on the meteor, so only the faint impression of old earth’s oh shit boobsattitude lingers. This is nothing compared to other shit they got up to as young and depressed teenagers. He just brushes the lank white hair out of Rose’s face and focuses on her strikingly purple eyes.

“You’re lucky some poor chess guy didn’t find you,” Dave informs Rose. “Would’ve given them trauma induced nightmares for the rest of their life, finding their god queen biting the big one in her own pool.”

“Which is why we got rid of the staff months ago, you know that,” She informs him right back, twice as hoarse in voice. She’s haughty in tone, but that’s just her default state. It would be more worrisome if she were to apologize.

Dave pulls his soaked t-shirt away from his chest, grimacing as it peels off his skin. Rose doesn’t even bother with her own clothes, just drawing her legs to herself and wrapping her arms around them. They sit in their joint puddle of unhappy feelings for a while, letting the chill creep into their bones until it’s more unbearable than the silence.

“You look like shit,” Dave comments eventually. Rose is back to full health, no longer corpse colored, but she still looks like something… drowned. Yeah.

“In the sanctity of my own home, I would think I am permitted to be less than stunning,” Rose replies derisively. “The double standards for gender roles were left behind three universes ago, Dave. A woman is allowed to look like shit rather than the epitome of beauty whenever she pleases.”

Dave tilts his head down, lips a thin line. “Wear a wet dress and ditch the undergarments if you want, but I’m pretty sure suicide is still illegal, Rose.”

Rose sniffs. “We’re gods, Dave. We can’t die unless we meet the qualifications of a nonsensical and interpretive set of rules.”

“You’re heart wasn’t beating for over five fucking hours,” Dave says, somewhat harshly. Rose goes quiet. “I’m not trained in any kind of medical expertise, but shit, Rose. That’s pretty dead.”

His hands twitch in his lap and Dave curls them into fists to avoid shaking. It gets easier but it doesn’t, handling someone being dead. Handling Rose being dead. Dave’s eyes sting dryly and he resists the urge to rub them. He’s too tired for this shit.

Rose runs a hand through her hair, dragging it backwards into a messy slick. It leaves her face exposed and reveals her long lashes, which stand out under the light from above them as she blinks once, twice. She shuts her eyes, sighing.

“I have no excuse,” She says softly, after a long beat. Dave grunts.

“What was it this time?” He asks.

“Kanaya is turning forty- ah, no. Nineteen sweeps. She’ll be nineteen sweeps this year,” Rose says, and looks so tired as she does. “I scarcely look eleven.”

Dave does a few calculations in his head- Rose tries hard to use Alternian chronology for Kanaya, but Dave is a little stuck on human earth calendars, given his powers and all- and comes up with forty and some months for Kanaya, and twenty-five for Rose.

“Midlife crisis, then,” Dave summarizes. Rose titters tightly.

“If only it were that.”

He shrugs. “Not like we’re in different boats here.”

Rose slides a violet iris to him, and reaches across the short space between them. With her thin little fingers, Rose slides his sunglasses off. Only she and Karkat are allowed to do that, and it’s only because of that fact he lets her.

Rose hooks his glasses on his shirt collar, lifting her hand back up to delicately trace the black circles under his eyes.

“And you deal with it in such a comparably stellar manner,” She responds finally, cupping his cheek and examining the sallowness Dave knows is in his cheeks. “How long has it been?”

Dave doesn’t answer.

“Dave.” Rose’s eyes glint. “How long.”

He relents. “One hundred and fifty-two hours, thirty-nine minutes, four seconds and counting.” Gods can go longer than the average schmuck before hallucinating, and even longer before they die.

Rose frowns at him, and her eyes show how much the number hurts her. She rubs his cheek with her thumb, biting her smudged black lips. “You didn’t tell me you stopped sleeping again.”

“You didn’t tell me you were looking to literally drown your sorrows, either,” Dave shoots back, and dislikes it when Rose’s hand drops from his face. He misses its presence, even if he’s a knot of frustration and hurt right now.

“Communication, for all our lengthy conversations, was never our strong point, was it?” Rose observes softly. She curls around herself again, looking at anything other than Dave.

“Nah,” Dave says, dropping his eyes to his soaking jeans. “Kind of a shitty irony.”

Rose doesn’t respond, and they sit like the emotionally stunted, uncommunicable assholes they are in the puddle of misery they made themselves. They’re supposed to support each other, look after one another and make sure they don’t do stupid self-destructive shit like this. Some moirails they are.

“We’re fucking awful at this,” Dave mutters, tired in a lot of ways he’d rather not be.

“An apt assessment,” Rose agrees. He hears the nearly hidden regret in her words, because even now they’re cagey about how they feel when they’re upset. Especially when they’re caught in a downward spiral of self-loathing.

Actions are a little easier, though. Like reaching out and pulling on the hem of Rose’s dress, silently asking. Her hand slips around Dave’s almost immediately, their fingers sliding together and holding tight.

A moment later, and Dave and Rose are winding around each other in a wet, desperate hug. He puts his face in her damp shoulder, smelling pool and his sister’s skin. Against his ear he feels her pulse, hears the air going in and out of her throat, and hugs her tighter to press the sensations into himself.

She’s alive, she’s alive and neither of them can die. Neither of them can die and as much as that terrifies them sometimes, it’s a god damn blessing here and now.

They can’t die, but without Rose Dave knows he’d find a way. She’s told him she’d do the same if it were reversed.

Rose’s sharp nails dig into his back as she holds onto him, a shuddery breath moving through her thin body and coming out hoarse. Dave’s eyes aren’t just stinging from lack of sleep anymore, and they’re considerably wetter as Rose makes a quiet little sound by his ear. Something close to a cry, but too short and dainty to be.

Sometimes she sobs for hours, sometimes he does. Tonight they just hold onto each other and blink tears away until they can breathe right again. It’s not so bad they breakdown completely, or maybe it’s so bad they’ve relapsed too far into old habits to do so. Dave can’t tell.

He doesn’t really care.

They’re both shivering, chilled by the air and by the mass of self-inflicted feelings inside themselves. It’s a lot less cold with Rose halfway into his lap and keeping her arms locked around his shoulders.

Dave rubs one hand up and down her back, feeling the bumps of her spine and ribs. He feels her hands find one scar he’s got on the back of his neck, a particularly nasty one from a strife when he tried turning his back on Bro to run away- her fingers run along it, icy to the touch, and different enough from the agony of steel and hot blood that Dave barely thinks on the memory longer than a second.

“I told you why I fell off the wagon, Dave,” Rose says in a hushed voice, leaving the scar be and moving to tangle her fingers in his wet hair. “Tell me why you did.”

Dave shrugs, keeping his world dark as he hides in his sister’s neck. “Nothing really. Dumb shit.” She waits, massaging his scalp, and Dave continues after he wrangles his own feelings into submission again. “It’s his birthday next month.”

Rose hums; the sound warm and full in Dave’s ear. She doesn’t ask who the person is, because she knows. “And?”

“And I made a dumb mistake by getting lost in my head,” Dave continues. He can usually handle the weird hang up he has on Bro’s birthday- they never even did much for it, it makes no sense- but he fucked up this year. “Ended up wandering around the city, headphones on and everything- and I just, forgot to pay attention to where I was headed. There’s too many parks in trolltopia, you know? I can’t tell them all apart even when I’m on the ball, and fuck if I know west from east when I’m full on dissociating.”

Rose keeps massaging his scalp, patient.

“Strife hobbyist group,” Dave finally explains, voice dropping low despite his attempts to keep it level. “There were swords involved. I wasn’t even all that near, Jesus, but I just- got stuck, and it’s fucking stupid but I couldn’t move until they stopped strifing and noticed their local godly ruler was having a stroll right by their weekend sparring field.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. They might look young but he’s a grown man. He hates being unable to handle this, even now. “Should’ve just walked away instead of staring into space like a braindead tool.”

“And I should have confided in you that I was being drawn back into a spiral of fear and self-loathing again,” Rose comforts. She presses her lips to his neck, sighing through her nose. It’s warmer than either of them are. “We both made some bad judgements as of late.”

Dave draws back, partly reluctant to. Rose watches him through her lashes, and like always, it feels like she’s seeing way deeper than most people ever will into him. Dave kinda wonders why it feels like that, when really, there’s not that much depth to him at all.

People (Rose, Karkat) tell him otherwise. He still doesn’t quite believe them.

Dave looks over his sister, who is pale as ever and resembles strongly a white cat dunked in water. Almost too thin everywhere she isn’t gently curvy, and built out of somewhat vicious tendencies, meticulously kept aloofness, and an impulsive streak ten miles long.

She’s beautiful, even if she’s as much a mess as Dave is.

Because they’re alone and it feels right, he leans close again and presses his lips to her forehead; then tilting his chin down and putting their heads together. Her eyes are close enough they blur into whites and purples, and Dave counts the nearly invisible freckles under them.

“I think we need to actually read one of those handbooks Karkat gave us,” Dave says wryly. His partner used to unsubtly leave moirallegiance handbooks out everywhere when he and Rose first started figuring this out. Dave never actually read one, since he’d thought it can’t be that different from just being friends/estranged siblings, right?

“I already have,” Rose says, because of course she has. “I can’t say I’ve been all that good about following the advisory tips, unfortunately.”

“I live with the guy who’s favorite hobby is dissecting romcom relationship dynamics. Loudly. I thought I could get by with just osmosis.”

“Perhaps relationship counselling?” She suggest.

Dave makes a please no noise, grimacing deeply. Rose huffs. “I take that as a no.” She pauses, and then says softly, “Dave, I’m sorry.”

“Oh shit, a sincere and straightforward apology from Rose Lalonde? I think the world’s ending again,” Dave doesn’t flinch when Rose draws away from him to give a flat stare, but he does feel a little bad for interrupting. “Sorry, go on.”

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “I attempt to apologize like a civil, non-complex afflicted individual, and you mock me for it. My therapist will be in tears of frustration at my lost progress.”

“The day you actually set foot in a real therapist’s office will be the day you give up overanalyzing every Freudian slip our friends make. And you have so much fun with John’s dickups. I mean slipups.”

Rose smiles faintly. “No you don’t.”

“Nah, definitely do not,” Dave smiles back. “But seriously, say what you need to. I, uh, I’ll keep things mature until you’re done.”

Rose’s shoulders rise, and then fall. She still looks tired, if less suicidal. “I’m sorry, Dave. We both may have been keeping our rough patches from one another, but I am the one who took the most direct action of self-destruction.”

Dave quirks an eyebrow. “It’s not like I wouldn’t have dropped in a few more days.”

“There’s a difference between keeping yourself awake until sheer exhaustion knocks you out, and holding yourself underwater until you drown.”

“Not much. Exhaustion kills you when it gets to a point.”

“A watery asphyxiation by my own hand is still more severe than that.”

“So’s drugging yourself with enough energy shots to give your heart an arrhythmia.”

Rose purses her lips. “Let’s agree to disagree. Competitive comparisons of mental health failings helps no one. Anyway,” She says before Dave can butt in. “I offer you my apology for what I did, whether you accept it or not.”

Dave doesn’t hesitate in his response. “Course I do, Lalonde. But you gotta listen to mine, too, if you’re going to get all pale like that.” He smirks at her. Rose gives him an exasperated look. “I’m sorry, too. We literally had an in writing accord that when we get bad, we fucking talk to each other about it. I spent way too long an afternoon on that thing with you to ignore its existence now. We both broke it, not just you. So… I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Rose replies, taking his hands into hers as he reaches for them. His are a little bigger, now that puberty is long done, and they’ve got scars in a hundred different spots hers don’t. But they’re still close enough in resemblance he sees their relation.

It’s a comfort, to know that however badly they fuck themselves up, lie and keep secrets from each other- genetics ensures they’ve got a connection that won’t break by any means.

Maybe they can’t die, and will have to watch the people they love age in ways they won’t- Jane and Dave together can rewind their ages, regenerate youth, but it’s just not the same as being a God Tier- but at least through all that, they’ll have each other no matter how long time stretches on.

Dave feels he’s still riding the unfortunate bump of fresh trauma from earlier, the way his thoughts keep getting mushy with his consent. It’s not something that really bothers him in the moment, wrapping himself back around Rose and sinking into the mutual apology and acceptance. Alone on the pool deck together, they sit and just mend themselves in the presence of their twin, not talking for a length of time.

  “Kanaya will be so disappointed,” Rose mourns, once they try to stand again. Her dress still sticks to her in places, and otherwise hangs heavy everywhere else. “I think this was a birthday gift.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Dave snorts. “You can’t just toss yourself in the drink and be done with it. Nah, you need to be a twelve out of ten and ready for the president’s cocktail party before you’re fit to drink your poison.”

“Last I checked, we have no presidents to speak of anymore.”

“Eh, old world government tiers still work if it’s in the presence of in-the-know individuals.”

“Hispter.”

“Cauldron calling the kettle black. Don’t think your Sappho collection ever got forgotten.”

Rose sniffs. “Classic lesbian literature is quite different from an outdated patriarchy based power system, thank you.”

“Fair, but you’re a hipster in your own ways, Rose.”

She doesn’t respond beyond a dismissive hum. They’ve had this conversation nine times already and it’s gone in loops for hours if they let it. Best to wait until they’re dry to start it up properly.

Rose leaves the ground, stepping into thin air and flying out across the pool towards the exit. Dave follows slowly, and watches as her dress trails against the water. The ripples they leave disturb the mirror perfect surface a third time since he found her.

Dave hooks an arm around Rose’s waist, and she returns the gesture. He banishes the memory of her lifeless body under that rippling surface, even though he knows it’ll come back to haunt him at least a few times before this can be processed completely.

Because carapaciens have only one mode when it comes to their gods- undying adoration is the least extravagant way to say it- the veritable mansion Rose and Kanaya ended up in is barely not a castle. The swimming pool on the middle level isn’t even the most lavish thing.

They pass by the bigger rooms, headed for the one they always use when it’s been a Night for them. It’s on the eastern side, where the sun will rise tomorrow and shine through the curtains to burn their sleep deprived retinas out of their skulls and force them into the land of the living. A full-proof plan that usually works if one of them doesn’t shut the curtains and pull the other back under the thick comforter.

There’s an ensuite bathroom attached to the wide bedroom, big enough that it makes the tiny closet washroom in Dave’s old Houston apartment look even smaller than it had been. The whole set up might just be larger than that old place; thick carpets and actual drapes and furniture that’s fit for royalty. Dave drops onto the first loveseat he passes, dampening the rich purple fabric with his soaked clothes.

Rose bends briefly near him, turning her back and gesturing vaguely at the straps holding her dress up. Dave obliges her and unhooks the clips. As she stands and walks away, he decaptchalogues his phone to start mindlessly scrolling social media while she takes first shower. He doesn’t even glance over as she drops her dress at the door, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

When Rose emerges again, wrapped in a wide and thick towel, she looks better all around. Dave stands and takes his turn, dropping a kiss to her temple as they pass each other and then dropping his itchy, half dried clothes on top of Rose’s. He shuts the door as she starts getting changed in the bedroom, and walks right into the still running shower. It’s hot enough it burns a little, chasing the chill out of his system.

Dave shuts it off when he no longer feels the itch of dried chlorine on his skin. There are still plenty of big warm towels for him on the rack, and he wraps one around his waist. Another smaller one goes around his head, just for the hell of it.

Rose is on the bed already when he walks out; dressed in a baggy old t-shirt proclaiming Foxy Grandpa she probably alchemized years ago, and soft pajama pants. Her hair is still a mess, and her black lipstick has been wiped clean. She’s brought out her laptop and is probably scrolling through whatever her video library has to offer.

Rose slides her eyes from the screen to Dave’s face, and she gives a faint smile. He decaptchalogues his own pajamas into his arms, smiling back at her before he starts changing. They’ve been around the Harley-Englishs way too long to be bothered by nudity, let alone each other’s. The tenth time Dave wandered into Jade’s personal garden and she was sans shirt under the hot sun, he’d gotten over it. Mostly.

It’s different with Rose, versus Jade who is twice their size in a lot of ways and not his sister. It’s mostly like glancing at a reflection of himself, really. Just with slightly different parts and heights.

Dave slides onto the cloudlike mattress once his undershirt and shorts are on, scooting to the middle of the bed where Rose is. With a mountain of pillows propping them up, they settle into the position they want to have tonight.

Dave opts to put his head on her chest, listening to the steady tempo of her heart for definitely trauma related reasons. Rose’s cheek rests on the top of his skull, arm under his neck and holding him close. Their legs end up tangling together as they rest their hipbones against one another; sharing residual warmth of their showers. Rose sets the laptop to the side Dave isn’t on, screen angled so they can both see as she presses play.

Her hand paps his cheek only once, and he returns the favor. It’s mostly just a formal recognition thing for them, rather than the soppy calm-down switch like it is for trolls. Cuddling like octopi works just fine on its own for their informal piling.

“Can’t believe troll Jaden Smith got an anime before I did,” Dave mumbles as the pastel opening credits begin. It’s considered a classic now days, and Dave feels weirdly old since he remembers when it first came out. “Still haven’t gotten one either, damn. I need to get on that shit.”

“What genre will you be classifying it as?” Rose asks, tangling her fingers in his hair for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe sci-fi or something, but I’m also still leaning towards maid café.”

“And the story?”

“Underground government revolution, duh.”

“Excellent choice, brother dear. Keeping to what our family knows best, are we?”

“Roxy and Dirk are too good a material source to waste.”

“As is our alternate selves’s history as resistors.”

“Obviously.”

They run through the first half of the episode before Dave starts to really wind down. He’s gone days without sleep, out of some kind of fear/self-punishment reasoning, and he’s beyond absolutely exhausted despite his pretending to be otherwise. Rose’s nails are gentle against his scalp and her body warmly pressed to his, so Dave’s mind is relaxing out of its sleep resistant anxiety without his prompt. Even if he has nightmares- and inevitably he will- Dave will wake up right next to his sister and moirail. He’s safe.

If he wakes up thrashing, fighting against spectres of his past or trying to rescue his drowning sister, Rose will just hold his face and make him focus on her, on the present. She’s the god of clarity in a manner of speaking; she’s the only one who can snap him out of an attack besides Karkat. And not just because of her powers.

If and when Dave will wake up, surfacing from a nightmare that sends his heart beating painfully fast in his chest and leaves him breathless, she’ll be right there to talk him down, kiss his temples and cheeks and keep holding him until the shakes fade. And if and when Rose wakes up like that, stifling cries about what she’s lost and may yet lose, shivering from images of things that’ve been in her head and the way her wife’s eyes gain wrinkles as years past- Dave will take a turn holding her close until she breathes evenly again, regaining sense of where she is and who she’s with. He’ll look her in the eye and make her look back, cupping her cheek gently and pressing his lips to her forehead, and they’ll tangle themselves up until everything passes and its morning again.

They’re not picture perfect moirails, but they’re there for each other as much as they can be. It works majority of the time, and they make up for it later when they falter. And that’s good enough.

Dave sinks into the heavy exhaustion inside him, not quite as afraid any longer while he’s wrapped around Rose. She cuddles him as close as he does her, and Dave drifts off to the sound of her breathing.

When morning- afternoon, nearly- rolls around, they’ve only woken each other once in the night, and Dave feels considerably less like he’s dying slowly. Rose, in turn, seems considerably less like she really did die the night prior.

Before they haul themselves upright again, to check in with their friends and partners and put real food into their stomachs, they lie around in the enormous and soft bed. Talking quietly and touching intimately, just enjoying the calmness that comes from being together and around no one else. They’ve become better practiced over the years, opening up around their friends and loved ones- but it’s still hard, and sometimes they can only manage it with each other.

It’s good, just lying together and talking in circles. It’s what they should do more often, so weeks and nights they’ve been having don’t happen.

When they do sit up from the covers and pillows, Dave watches his sister pull open fully the heavy drapes, pushing outwards the panes and letting the afternoon sun inside. It illuminates the pale white of her everything, and makes her shine gold.

Standing in the open sunlight, lavender eyed and glowing bright, Dave finds again he will always strongly prefer her like this. Sleep rumpled and sunlit as the open window blows her short hair, rather than elegantly dressed and still like an empty shell against the bottom of a pool.

That preference is an easily guessed one, seeing as the smile Rose turns on him says she knows exactly what he’s thinking of her at the moment.

“We’ll talk next time,” She promises him, and that’s enough for Dave.

[commanderfreddy]

Hey. I'm twenty years old now. I've been alive for two whole decades.

When I was like 14 or so, I read an article for teenagers who wanted to become published authors, and one of the pieces of advice it gave was to "not go overboard", reminding readers that your writing style changes a hell of a lot, and very quickly, during your teen years (and even beyond, into your 20s) and so instead of trying to get published as young as possible and ending up with an eventually pretty embarrassing work on the market, the aspiring teen author should tell themself that they would be published by the time they were 20. Well, I did. And I'm not. I realise now that a large part of that advice was actually just a false goal just far enough in the future to keep kids motivated without making the future seem too distant, and didn't really intend for anyone to end up with a book of their own before they hit the big 20, but it still kind of stings to know I didn't meet one of my biggest goals. Okay, if you want to get technical, a short story of mine I entered in a contest ended up in their finalists anthology, which people bought with money, but I'm sure you can all gather that wasn't what I was thinking of when I sat down with a ratty blue notebook and a head full of OCs at age 13.

Honestly, looking at my writing now, I'm glad my Big Work hasn't been published yet. I don't think I'd be satisfied continuing the series with the kind of foundation I'm capable of laying now. But, still. I'm pretty torn up that I couldn't even manage the work ethic to get a single short story finished and sold to a magazine. I've got two in the works, but… Fuck.

I can't stop thinking about the way my mum talks about me. She keeps boggling over the fact that she was only a year older than I am now when she moved to Melbourne, when she landed the job that would keep us well-fed for the rest of our lives, when she got my dad to leave his wife for her. I'm not like that. I've always admired my mum. She's really strong. Powerful. When she enters a room, you know. She takes up way more space than you'd expect any 150cm bespectacled former gymnast to be capable of. She has this way of speaking, this calm force that lets you know she's already won. And when she tells a story, you can feel yourself in the antagonist's place, being beaten down by her. I don't think anyone's ever yelled at her. I don't think anyone can. She just has so much raw energy radiating off her.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do to get the same effect. I can't imagine her being just a kid y'know, someone with no clue what's going on or what she wants to do with her life.

To be honest, I have a hard time thinking of myself as a kid, too.

I lost, I think, a year to bullying that set off abandonment issues I didn't even know I had. I'd just moved, uprooted from my home city by yet another family mistake I wouldn't learn about until I was way older. New kids have a hard time fitting in, y'know? Especially when they immediately befriend the most gender-nonconforming kid in the grade. I, uh. When everyone else spurned me, I grew to hate him, in hopes they'd accept me once I dropped him. They didn't. I took out so much internalised transphobia on that poor fucking kid, who was already getting the brunt of everyone else's ire. I hope he's okay now.

I think that's my biggest regret. I was only eight, yeah, but so was he. I. I don't know.

I don't really know anything, I guess.

I don't know what happened to my life, to the youth I was promised. I don't know how teenagers live, what they do, who they are, even though I was still one just a few minutes ago. I can't drive. I don't know fuckin' anything. How do clothes work, what the fuck? Who am I? I spent so much of my life on the edge of tears, always about to burst but never even getting the catharsis of letting it all out. I think the hardest I ever cried was when I was 12, and I was at a musical with a primary school friend and it ended up running way over time. Her mum was with us, and my parents weren't mad, but just the fact that everything had been thrown out of my mental schedule was enough to make me ill with how violently I cried.

I want to scream so fucking bad. But there's nowhere I could go that I could feel safe enough to scream, I think. No matter where I went I'd always be too afraid that someone would hear me, that I'd disturb someone. I don't want to scream into my pillow, I want to rend the air with my voice and feel my chest burst open with the force. I want to be hoarse for days, I want to scream until I run out of fear, until it's all washed clean out of me. But at the same time I know that screaming like that won't actually do anything, and I'd just feel weird and dissatisfied afterwards.  

Hey, did I ever tell you the abject terror I felt after my very first date? It went really well, we went bowling and then to an arcade, where I let him kiss me. And then my leg jiggled the whole train ride home and I figured that was what love felt like. I went up to my room and thought of that scene in the fuckin' Beethoven movie (the one about that bigass dog) where the enamoured teenage girl flops back onto her bed and her hair splays around her face like a perfectly shellacked halo. I sat down on the edge of my bed as gingerly as ever, faced the wall, and burst into tears.

My mum was so angry when I couldn't explain why I was crying.

"What, do you not want to date him?"

But I did. I wanted to be dated so bad. I wanted to be loved, to be kissed, to be held, to be spoken to.

I never really considered that was different to wanting to love someone myself.

I think it was that same year, later, around September, when I went to Germany, that I actually fell in love for the first time. Back then, I had no idea. I thought I had a crush on an older girl in my cosplay circle, because she had big boobs and was so nice to me even though she was like 23 and I was 16. But, in Germany, I grew to be so fascinated with this girl from my rolecall class (that's Australian for homeroom btw) that I'd rarely spoken to before. We liked a lot of similar things. We had that same tentative "fangirl" approach to gayness that heralded that whole "overinvested ally" kind of self-closeting, and we liked not the same shows or books per se, but we had the same approach to things we loved - over analysis, deep emotional investment, and a desperation to find those tiny slivers of potential in truly shitty series. I wanted to know everything about her. I loved her sarcasm, coming out just as hesitant and awkward as the rest of her words, blending in perfectly and catching me every time. I stumbled over every word she said, just to hold onto them for longer. I'm embarrassed to admit I eavesdropped on her once, in rolecall, when she was talking to another girl in the class about her antidepressant dosage. The emotions I felt when I realised we had similar mental problems is something I doubt I'll ever be able to give a name to. I kinda prefer it that way. A first love should be full of unpronounceable wonders, and a secret solidarity fits well enough for me.

I wish I'd had the guts to actually ask her out.

We had a few moments of silence, just looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak. I know now what I should have filled those moments with. If I'd kissed her, I don't think she would have minded.

I wish I'd gone out with her instead. But I didn't, and I let a perfectly nice boy kiss me on the lips for eight seconds while I stood stock still in a noisy arcade, and told myself that was what I was looking for.

I spent a lot of my teenage years lying on the floor.

I imagine my twenties will be much the same. But I hope, at least, it'll be a different floor, and there will be people lying there with me. Maybe, I think, my youth won’t be so wasted if it gets all of my loneliness out of the way. I want to be ready to learn to love, to learn to speak, to know, to feel, to be all the things I was afraid of before.

I need to go back to therapy, but I know I've made some progress. There are some things I'm not so afraid of before. I'm a lesbian! I'm a bigender lesbian and my name is Friedrich! And those are good things, things that bring me joy and help me understand myself and bring me closer to my loved ones, as well as helping me find said loved ones in the first place. And yeah, there are people I love. I have friends! I've always felt real nervous saying that before. I remember in my cosplay circle there was a lovely girl who said "I love you" every five minutes and I could just never say it back. No matter how many times she said it I was still unable to reciprocate, unable even to call her a friend. But I have friends now, I know it. I love them, and sometimes I can even tell them! Out loud, even. I don't think I'm ready to go first yet, but I can reciprocate. And I call them my friends! And I'm ready to accept that some of the people I was closer to in high school I'm not close to anymore, but there are still some people from there that I talk to on here, and I'm glad I know, and I count as friends too.

I went to get a cup of tea and completely lost my train of thought fuck.

I don't exactly have great memories of the past two decades of my life, and there's still a lot I'm working through, a lot I don't know how to talk about yet. And I know quite a few times in the past I've said "good things are gonna happen" or "I'm gonna change" or whatever, and things haven't really moved. So, uh, I'm gonna set some concrete goals I think. And real ones, that I choose for myself, not given to me as a placeholder until my youthful bravado runs out.

1.      Go back to therapy (by the end of august)

2.      Get a short story published (by the end of 2017)

3.      Ask out a girl (by the time I turn 21)

4.      Be more vocal in supporting my friends, do more things for them, like drawing or writing stuff for them, and tagging them in stuff I see that reminds me of them, telling them when they do something cool and just genuinely trying to be more open with my feelings yknow? (from today onwards)

Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through all that lmao. It's been a weird twenty years, and I can't say growing up on the internet was a healthy thing, but… I'm not too ashamed of who I am today.

[death2thevirgin]

Country Strong part 3

The Highway Don’t Care

Summary: What can you do after Dean leaves? What do you have left to loose? How do things change when you find out where he has been?

Characters: Y/N, Dean, Sam

Word Count: 2270

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut (shitty as it may be), Fluff (kinda)

A/N:  So i’ve decided this will be my smut series lol. I go through phases of the the type of music I like and right now its country, so when this song came on I couldn’t stop this fic from bouncing around my head.  In my mind this take place sometime in season 3 & 4 of the show. This will be a three part mini series and this part is based on this song. Each part will have a different country song it is based on.  I tag base off this list right here so if you would like to be added you can add yourself.  As always feedback is always appreciated =)

**Sorry my Smut writing is so awful, I’m still kind of new to this.**

Read Part 1, Part 2

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

You didn't choose the hunter life, but then again what hunter did? When Dean left the way he did, something in you besides your heart broke. You couldn't pin down exactly what it was but you dropped out of college and sold everything you had except a duffle bag of clothes and your Jeep.  After knowing what you did about what was out there, what were you to do? It was like standing at the edge of the abyss and turning your back to it. You may be terrible at hunting and will most likely get yourself killed but what did it matter.  Dean was gone and he never wanted to see you again. 

So you packed up your Jeep with your duffle bag of clothes and the few knives and guns you were able to buy and made your way to the middle of Nebraska, you remember Dean mentioning a roadhouse where hunters gathered and figured it was as good a place to start as any.  When you arrive to the Harrell's Roadhouse, you think for the first time, what if Dean is here?  You decide you don't care if you see him or not, you are going to hunt and know this is the best place to start. 

Entering the roadhouse at first appears to be like any other dive bar but you know better. Walking up to the bar you get a few side glances from the patrons, the older woman behind the counter turns to speak to you. "Are you lost sweetheart?" That word, sweetheart.  Who knew that one word could cause a such a physical reaction. 

You nod half yes and half no, deciding how to broach the subject.  "Actually I have an old friend, a hunter, that mentioned this was a good place to visit if I was interested in hunting." 

The woman seems a little skeptical at first, trying to size you up. "A friend huh, what's their name?"

You debate on whether or not you should mention Dean, but ultimately decide to be truthful. "His name is Dean Winchester, but I'd rather he not know I'm getting into the hunting business." This seems to ease her mind a bit and the two of you start to talk. 

It didn't take long for you to develop a relationship with Ellen. She offered you a job bartending while you trained with different hunters that stopped in. Before you knew it Ash was helping you find cases to work on your own. It was only a few months that passed when you left the roadhouse promising to keep Ellen posted on how you were.  You never got into much detail with her about Dean, but she respected your wishes of not wanting him to know anything about you, at least her never came to stop you. Maybe he didn’t care anymore. 

Your first solo hunt went perfectly, sure it was just some rogue werewolf but you were able to track and kill him in four days. Even Ash was surprised you called so soon ready for a new case. 

A year passed in a blink of an eye and you settled into your new lifestyle quite well. It wasn't until you ran into Sam a few months ago that you let yourself even think of Dean... not that it was an easy task. If you didn't know the Winchester you would of thought Sam was strung out, he was different to say the least. He didn't recognize you at first to busy with the brunette that was practically straddling him. 

You would've walked right past him if he hadn't called out your name. "Y/N, is that you?" 

You abruptly turn "Sam Winchester, long time no see!" 

He stands coming over to you and wrapping you in a hug. "How have you been Y/N/N, you look so different I almost didn't recognize you."

“I’ve been good, i’m hunting now so… there’s that.” You pause not sure you even want to know the answer. “So is Dean around”

A look of sadness washes over his face, he clears his throat. “Uhm Y/N/N, Dean is gone.”

“Good, he left already, so I don’t have to see him.” 

“No Y/N, he is gone-gone, like dead.” His tone is getting rougher as you can tell he is upset. “He sold his soul to save me about a year and a half ago.” 

You can feel the tears pricking your eyes, desperate to fall.  You do your best to keep it together but you are losing.  Without saying goodbye you turn and storm out the run down bar, you can faintly hear Sam call your name but you don’t stop.  You get in your Jeep and hightail it back to Ellen’s.  She had to of known.  Why didn’t she tell you? A few hours later you pull into the Roadhouse barely getting the car in park before you jump out. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You storm in, not caring who heard you. “I thought I could trust you.”

Ellen looks confused for a moment but after looking you over she knows exactly why you’re upset.  

“Sweetie you said you didn't want to know anything about him, that you didn’t want him to know anything about you either”  You know she is right but it doesn't help the pain you are feeling. “I thought you knew all about the deal.”

Your tears fall freely as Ellen wraps her arms around you. “I had no idea about any deal.” Ellen leads you to the back room for privacy. “Tell me everything.” You state simply. 

Ellen tells you how when they were hunting yellow eyes Sam was stabbed and killed and Dean did the only thing he could think too and sold his soul. Ellen told you she was sure that was the reason he broke up with you. That he didn’t want you to waste your time invested in a lost cause. As she tells you all this you can’t hold back your tears.  He sacrificed himself to save his brother then broke up with you to save you.  “Do you remember the night you came back from your first solo hunt?  The werewolf in Idaho?” 

“Yes.” It comes out as a whisper.

“He was here, he hid while you were here, but when you left and he came out you should have seen the smile on his face.  He was so proud of you.”  You know she is only trying to help but hearing this only made you cry harder.  

“How long has he been gone?” You aren’t sure why you ask this but something inside you needs to know.

“About four months.” Ellen sighs and wraps you in her arms while you just cry.

~~~

After your conversation with Ellen you head back to your old room, deciding to stay for the night.  You sit at the foot of your bed, head hung low.  You would think you would eventually run out of tears but you don’t. It's hard to cope with the information you've received, it's hard to believe Dean is gone. Even though he only was in your life for a year you felt like you knew him forever. There was a cosmic connection between the two of you.  Unable to sleep you head towards the only person you think will have answers… Bobby Singer. 

You jump in your Jeep, pulling your hair back and rolling your windows down.  You speed off in the direction you know there will be answers.  You don’t even realize you're going too fast, you're trying not to think about everything that went wrong.  You're trying not to stop until you get where you’re going, you're trying to stay awake so you turn on the radio.

You know the highway won’t hold you tonight, the highway doesn’t know you’re alive, the highway doesn’t care if you’re all alone.  The highway won’t dry your tears, it doesn’t need you here, the highway doesn’t care if you’re coming home.  You trying not to think about turning around, you’re trying to get lost in the sound of the music.  You sing the words at the top of your lungs, the perfect distraction you need. 

Once you pull down the long winding drive of Singer’s Salvage Yard you turn the radio down, eyes adjusting to the darkened road. You reach the run down looking home and notice baby parked out front.  You figured Dean must of left it to Sam. You get out of your Jeep making your way to the door. You aren’t sure what you're expecting but if anyone has answers it will be Bobby. You knock three times and step back.  

You hear the sounds of someone on the other side of the door, a few hushed whispers. Then the door is pulled open, the last thing you see are those emerald eyes and everything goes black.  

~~~ 

You wake up in fear, not familiar with where you are or how you got there.  As your eyes adjust and your mind settles, you remember.  You remember everything, you jolt forward, desperate to find him.  When you sit up you see him, sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed.  “Hey sweetheart, long time.” 

You heart is pounding in your chest, this couldn’t be possible.  He can’t be here, he is suppose to be dead. “Dean” your voice comes out shaky.  “You’re suppose to be dead.” 

“Ah- you know about that.”  He snickers. 

He is so blasé, acting like it’s nothing he is here.  You get up walking towards him, you can feel your legs start to weaken with each step.  You just have to touch him, feel if he is real.  Maybe this is all a dream, maybe he isn’t really here. Once you are in front of him you kneel and place your hand to the side of his face. You feel him, you feel every muscle as his jaw tenses a bit.  “I’m really here sweetheart.” He smiles and leans in placing a soft kiss on your lips.  

The kiss start slow and soft but quickly becomes more passionate.  You pull away, “Dean, how? How are you here?”

Looking you in your eyes, “I’m not sure, but I don’t care.” He captures your lips again. Soon you are straddling him, you can feel his excitement and lightly grind down on him.  He lets out a low moan. He begins trailing kisses down your neck, gathering your breast in his large hands.  He gives them a light squeeze causing you to inadvertently grind down again.  

“Dean… I’ve missed you so much.” You mutter between moans. 

He doesn’t answer you instead he lifts himself and you leading you to the foot of the bed.  He places you down, only breaking from the kiss to remove his shirt. You follow his lead and remove your dress leaving you only in your panties and bra. You let your eyes trace his body, only stopping when you see the handprint on his shoulder, it appears to be a burn of some type. “Dean, what happened to your shoulder. 

“I’m not sure, when I got back from Hell I just had it.” He explains, but he doesn’t stop kissing your neck. You have some many questions but decide to wait to ask them. Dean breaks his kisses again but this time it is to remove his pants and boxers as well as your bra and panties. You lay back as Dean takes the sight of you in. His eyes roam your entire body, then he quickly moves so that he is in top of you.  You can feel his erection pressing against your fold and you and wet with anticipation.  You open your legs grating him easy access which he takes, easing himself inside you.  You take his full length, a soft moan falling from your lips.   

He sets his pace, slow and steady, easing himself in and out of you.  All the while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.  It’s not like you haven’t been with a man before, but it was nothing like Dean and you haven’t been with a man since him. You were right your connection was cosmic and when the two of you were together the rest of the world fades away.  

You feel that familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach as Dean pace starts to quicken. Dean lets out a grunt as his pace slow again, each thrust more drawn out than the last.  That’s when you find your release, your walls fluttering around him.  Dean finds his release shortly after you, he stays inside you for a while after.  You both catching your breath.  Dean rolls off you and you both lay there not speaking until you speak up.  “Dean I need to hear it from you, what the hell happened?” 

For the first time since you’ve seen him Dean opens up and he tells you everything.  He tells you about his deal, he tells you about hell without going into detail. Dean tells you about how he isn’t how he got back but how Bobby has a plan. “I thought about you the entire time I was in hell, it’s what got me through it.” 

He gets up going to his pants and retrieves something from the pocket. Coming back to the bed he sits next to you. “Close your eyes,” he commands.  You obey and you can feel him places something around your neck. “Open.” When you open your eyes you are greeted with your locket, the locket you gave him the day he left. 

You are unable to speak you meet his eyes and place a kiss on his lips. “I kept it in hopes that I would be able to give it back to you one day.” 

“Thank you Dean.” You push the tears away relishing in the moment. 

“So now that you are a hunter, a pretty bad ass one from what I heard, You want to help us figure out what the hell brought me back?” Dean looks at you hopeful and that’s when you realize not only did you get Dean back but you were on your way to an adventurous relationship.   

Forever Tags: @illbeguiltyifyouwantmetobe​ @devilgirlsarah​ @ruprecht0420​ @riversong-sam​ @essie1876​ @iwantthedean​ @imagining-supernatural​ @jensen-jarpad​ @impala-dreamer​ @paintrider13-blog​ @mogarukes​ @hexparker​ @emoryhemsworth​ @wayward-marvel-sommer1196​ @mishasprinsesss​ @chelsea072498​ @deanandsamsbitch @zeusmyster @docharleythegeekqueen @gemini75eeyore @iamnotsaneatall @lazairahel @benjerry707

[psycho-alchemist]

okay but I read your tags on that grudge text post and now I really wanna hear what this Christine bitch did at your graduation???

I AM READY TO TELL YOU. THIS IS A LONG STORY

To clarify, this didn’t happen exactly at high school graduation, but it was right around that time and really did ruin the entire graduation season for me. I’m gonna need to travel back a little to explain it properly...

I’m pretty introverted now, but I was an extrovert for most of my life until the second half of my senior year of high school. In February of my senior year (over my birthday weekend, actually!), I went to an orchestra conference called All-Eastern, which brings the best orchestra musicians from all over the East Coast to this 3-day conference. You rehearse for like 25-30 hours over 2 1/2 days and then perform. So while I was there, I had an amazing time; it was one of the greatest experiences ever. But when I came back, everything just felt different to me for some reason.

I think when I came back from that conference, I realized that I didn’t really fit in with a lot of my high school friends. I felt like we didn’t really understand each other very well and that I put more effort into our friendships than they did, so I lost the motivation to talk to most of them.

At the same time that I distanced myself from most of my friends, I also became closer to one of my other friends, the aforementioned Bitch Christine. We had been friends for a while, but we only really got close during my senior year since she was a bit of a loner too. She was an extremely toxic person, but I guess since I was kind of bitter too, I liked talking to her. She talked a lot of shit about other people, which was exactly what I wanted to hear at the time. She was toxic towards other people, but never to me, so I didn’t really care.

About two weeks before graduation, we were having a senior picnic after school. Christine offered to give me a ride since her dad was dropping her, so I agreed. Two of our other friends were going as well. Christine and I met up after school, and we were just hanging around for like half an hour before her dad came. As we were walking down the hallway, we saw this girl up ahead.

Christine HATED this girl. And sure, there’s nothing wrong with hating a few people if they’ve done something really fucked up to you, but let me tell you... Christine hated this girl because at NINTH GRADE homecoming--remember, we were seniors at this point--this girl had grinded up against her then-boyfriend. That is, the boyfriend she had broken up with over two years ago. 

So she was holding a grudge against this girl for some small thing that happened three years ago with a guy she didn’t even give a fuck about anymore. And that’s honestly the kind of person she was; if someone even looked at her, she’d hold a grudge against them. I never cared because, again, it didn’t affect me, but this time was a little different.

Christine saw this girl on the other side of the hallway, and whisper-yelled, “HEY BITCH!” Just as she turned around, we ducked into another hallway so she didn’t see us. It does sound so stupid to me now, but at the time, I was really shocked. Sure, that girl had been rude to her once, but it hardly seemed like something to still be so bitter about three years later. I didn’t feel like it warranted calling her a bitch. But I just kinda laughed it off uneasily, and joked with Christine, “you didn’t need to call her that! hahaha(what the fuck)hahaha”

As we walked to the entrance of the school, I mentioned to Christine, a little more seriously, that I didn’t think it was necessary to call that girl a bitch. She just kind of rolled her eyes and cattily said, “Don’t you remember that she grinded up against Alex at homecoming??” And I said, “That was three years ago though, and you’re not even with him anymore.” She got a little irritated with me and said, “Whatever, she’s still a bitch.”

....................................mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm yeah so I started feeling a little weird.

We got into Christine’s dad’s car, along with the other two friends who were coming with us, and off we went to the picnic spot. As we got close, it was pretty difficult to find the spot, since we had to take a bunch of windy roads and turns to find it, and the GPS wasn’t really helping. And Christine started being really rude to her dad as he tried to find where to go. 

Now, I have daddy issues galore, so I’m the last person to judge, but it just didn’t feel right that Christine was treating her dad like that when he was taking us somewhere. That’s not to say that she needed to be super affectionate, but she was yelling at him for mistakes that any one of us would have made if we were driving. I was already annoyed about the whole “hey bitch” thing from earlier, so I definitely sounded irritated when I said, “Yelling at him isn’t going to get us there any faster.” She glared at me, and my other two friends looked at me like o_o, but I was just so annoyed with how petty she was being.

When we finally got to the picnic spot, Christine got out of the car and said to me--in a really fucking bitchy tone--“I need to talk to you.” So I followed her, rolling my eyes, and she said,

“Why are you picking on me??”

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh um yeah uh excuse me what

That was pretty much my exact expression, and I said, “When did I ever bully you?” And she said, “First you got mad at me about the thing with [that girl], and then you were so rude to me in the car.” And I said, “How is that picking on you?? I don’t think it’s necessary to hate [that girl] for what happened, and you were being unnecessarily rude to your dad in the car.” And she literally just shrugged off everything I said, and said, “Just stop bullying me.” And then stormed off, like ??

So since my bitchy “best” friend had called me a bully, she took our other two friends and went to go get food with them. The whole time I was in line for food, I saw Christine talking really angrily to the other two girls, and every now and then they glanced at me. Not in a judgmental way though; they were giving me pretty sympathetic looks but also still hanging out with her.I didn’t have anyone, so I just kinda sat awkwardly with the friends that I had distanced myself from months ago. Eventually I got fed up and called one of my parents to pick me up.

I talked to those other two girls who were there later. I don’t fault them for putting up with Christine’s bullshit drama, but I am still annoyed that they didn’t bother to speak up for me. They’re still friends with her, and it just dumbfounds me. But one of the girls did tell me privately that Christine was talking shit about me during the entire picnic. I appreciate her for telling me that.

The story isn’t over yet.

(ooooooh i just read all our old messages and I AM SO LIVID NOW)

So I messaged this bitch on Facebook and tried to hash it out. I know I’m calling her a bitch right now in retrospect, but I really truly tried to fix everything while still explaining my side. She basically said that it was none of my business to tell her that she was wrong, and that I was rude to tell her to calm down. So I asked her if she was really willing to throw away a friendship of SIX YEARS for some girl that she hated, and LET ME SHOW YOU WHAT THIS BITCH SAID

“IF IT CONTINUES TO BE AWKWARD”??

She was literally willing to throw away a 6-7 year friendship because of AWKWARDNESS

You know, I was in a bad place at that time since I had lost most of my other friendships as well. So I confess, I passive-aggressively said, “If you want to throw away our friendship over something like this, then fine. You’re not the first person to do that.” It was a guilt-trippy thing to say, but I can’t even express just how wronged I felt by this entire thing.

And she said: “If I’m not the first person, then maybe I’m not the problem. :P”

That single statement fucked me up for literally two years. I literally didn’t make any friends in college for two years because I hated myself and blamed myself for all of my relationships that didn’t work out. It took two years for me to figure out that even if I have made mistakes sometimes (which I definitely have, I have other stories), some people are also just shitty. Christine is one of those people.

That was about a week and a half before graduation. Unfortunately I did have one other falling out right before graduation, which probably reinforces what Christine said to me, right? But I promise you, the other falling out was because my closest friend told a very dark secret to someone who really shouldn’t have known, and it blew up into a really huge incident. I really didn’t do anything wrong to her, and she didn’t realize the gravity of what she had done until after the fact. (We’ve reconciled, actually!)

So...the end of the sob story is, I graduated high school on bad terms with all my best friends except one, who ended up getting bored of me six months later anyway. I’m in a much better situation now, but I think about that time a lot, now that I’m once again approaching graduation.

I can only provide my side of the story, so it is possible that things happened very differently from Bitch Christine’s point of view. But regardless of that particular incident, she was an extremely toxic, angry, manipulative person. She always found a way to blame other people for the way she felt, and between my dad and her, my confidence was stunted for a very long time. It really is for the better that my friendship with her ended, even if it took two years to get over it.