#I need to give him a clean bill of health completely before he goes

[yoshistory]

I feel like at this point Rascal is kind of my cat but god I don't know how I'm gonna make this work out like. Financially and emotionally

[gabessquishytum]

Back at it with fertility god au! Have a couple of thoughts that have been percolating for a bit, particularly at the beginning of Hob’s new life in the Dreaming.

The dreamkin first of all are utterly thrilled to embrace their new stepfather as well as welcome their new sibling. Everywhere he goes for a good while he is followed by a gaggle of them following along like ducklings, clamoring for Hob’s attention, and when he is knocked up again watching his growing belly with fascination (after all this is the first time any of them are really seeing the process from this side). Dream would find it amusing if he didn’t find it so arousing, watching Hob dote on the dreamkin, already seeing them as his children along with the one he’s borne already and the one he’s currently bearing, a natural parent from the beginning. Dream falls in love all over again and simply has to fuck his pregnant consort about it.

Speaking of pregnant sex, they have it frequently and all over the place, and dirty talk about Hob being bred is like a horny trigger for the both of them, guaranteed to drive them wild. However they learn the hard way to be careful of what they say when; if, in the first trimester, even one of them starts talking about breeding Hob even more than he already has been, of putting another baby in there next to the first one, here in the Dreaming it actually will result in multiples 😅 So they learn to watch what they say, and focus on the baby Hob is currently having.

As the years go by, for the most part Hob has relatively easy births, as though he really was made for it. However, occasionally he’ll have a birth that’s a little more of a challenge, and one time he went through a birth that gave him actual real trouble. His life was not in any real danger, but it did result in him needing some definite recovery time before he can be knocked up again. The experience scared Dream more than it did Hob though, and after Hob is given a completely clean bill of health and the green light to start making babies again, Dream is actually reluctant to do so, worried about putting Hob through that again. This results in Hob pinning Dream down and slowly riding him, saying over and over how he does such a good job breeding Hob, how he gives Hob such good babies, and reminding him how much Hob loves being pregnant, how suited to it he is, surely Dream wouldn’t want to deprive him of his purpose, until Dream cums hard. They cuddle together for awhile afterwards, both of them cradling and stroking Hob’s belly.

-🪽anon

I love this so much!!! Love to see more fertility god au, its such a delightful thing to think of.

Of course, Hob is actually pregnant with and giving birth to quite a wide range of dreamkin which come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them actually look like human babies, some of them take on more mystical appearances, or they might even look like abstract concepts or places! Hob loves them all equally. He always makes sure to visit the dreams that turn into landscapes, and he spends are much time as possible with all the ones that take on the appearance of humans or animals. He's got the same devotion to all the dreamkin, even if he didn't give birth to them, and while many of them are much, much older than him, they like having a new parental figure in the dreaming. Dream always has a lot to do and he doesn't always have time to dedicate to his creations, so everyone is basically a lot more content with Hob around to settle them (it takes a lot of weight of Lucienne’s shoulders, and she can focus on what she likes best: books).

Dream always knows exactly what the latest creation for his realm is going to be, but usually Hob likes to have an element of surprise. It's fun to guess what he might be carrying this time! But he tries not to think too much about it because there have been instances when he accidentally reshaped or changed the dream with his own imaginings...

They have so much fun when Dream hosts diplomatic balls in the dreaming, or if they go to other realms for parties and events. Hob now has his status as a minor fertility god and as Dream’s consort, so all the snooty cosmic entities have to treat him with respect. He all gets devastatingly horny because the beings at these events will always draw attention to his pregnancy (much like human beings tend to!) and ask a million questions. It's slightly annoying but mostly so arousing to have everyone's attention on him and his belly.

Some of the other gods etc will try to commiserate with him like "oh it must be so awful to be pregnant all the time and not able to sleep with your husband!" Which just makes Hob giggle because Dream absolutely won't leave him alone when he's knocked up. Honestly Hob can barely keep up with all the sex Dream wants to have! The idea that Dream doesn't find him attractive when he's duck-waddling around with their latest dreambaby in his womb is just... hilarious.

They are the happiest weird little eldritch family. Dream has never been happier or prouder and he's really looking forward to fucking Hob about it later <3

[redrydersrequiem]

Reunited Chapter 9

Hey guys im back sorry this is short an it took so long I haven’t been inspired fora bit plus ive been moving and alot of stuff in my life is going crazy but im back at it love everyone who’s reading this i thank you.

Its been two days since the soul transfer. Right after the ceremony Spider was whisked away to the labs, much to his dismay, the boy only complying once he saw how worried I still was. A handful of checkups a bunch of drills and a night of observation spider was released with a clean bill of health. It’s not till the next morning that the ceremony would be complete, and I couldn't say I was looking forward to it.

Saying goodbye to his human body

The ceremony is just as beautiful as the one before it. Spider's former body lays in the same position it was yesterday, simply looking as though he's asleep, but now glowing flowers are placed gently beside him. I can't help but gently cry as I clutch spiders hand in mine the entire time. Needing the reassurance he's still here with me and his father. Everyone silently sets up, taking turns saying their goodbyes and laying down flowers. Atokirina grace us with their calming presence as they gently float around us to the sound of everyone gently singing. Neytiri explains to miles and i that the Navi believe all energy is borrowed, and eventually it must be returned.

“Eywa has guided you all to this point, and will now accept Spiders human form back into her loving embrace, watching as he now walks the path of the clans.”

Her words soothe me as I approach and lay my flower down. Miles beside me before we return and bask in our son's presence. Happy to start the next chapter of our family's life.

The rest of the day is filled with merriment. The clan celebrates Spiders rebirth as well as the return of their former clan chief and his family, even if they are only visiting. Spider goes around still testing out his new body and saying hello to the people he used to know, accepting the small trinkets they give him. Miles and I simply watch on happily.

After the morning and an afternoon of celebration we all decided to have a more intimate dinner. All the people close to Spider now take up residency in the Sullys old home. Norm, Max and Abby sit beside Jake and Neytiri, Miles and I on the other side of them, all of us gently talking,eating and drinking, while the kids all take residence on the other side of the fire giggling and goofing off as they do. It’s not till tuk insists Spider has to open her present that we move and put everything off to the side.

Spider now sits in the middle as tuk tuk goes first, presenting a small pouch, a leather armband inside. It’s simple in its design but thoughtful and lovingly crafted but eh younger girl. Decorated with sea rocks from the Metikiyana and a feather from the Omaticaya,

“so you can wear it at both places.” She says gleefully.

Kiri was next, gifting spider some beautiful beads of all colors she had been saving

“Here I carved these myself. They'll bring you luck, monkey boy.”

“Thank you kiri” The duo sport similar blushes, but no one says anything, all just simply filling the information away for later.

Neteyam and Lo’ak gift him a new knife sheath and a new ikran saddle. Telling him by the end of the week they’ll all be able to race around. Norm and the others gifted him a waterproof camera hoping he’ll send them some photos of the ocean and its environment, to which he readily agrees, just as curious as they are. They also gifted him a new halo pad now, Navi sized, all so he could keep in contact with everyone. The kids all cooed over the tech while Jake and Neytiri step forward to give their gift.

“This might not be as cool as your new tech but it is to commemorate your new life.”

They hand him a long cord, a new Navi sized songcord to be exact. Miles and I had agreed to giving the honor to them, having been there his whole life. A new dark leather and twine band sits with all the previous gems and trinkets. The only difference is that at the end a beautiful blue bead sits proudly. Symbolizing his transfer.

“Thank you.” Spider says gratefully, taking the cord and retying it to his hip.

“Your welcome kid. We’ve seen you work hard your whole life, learning the navis ways and respecting the world around you, we’re honored to do this for to watch how much you continue to grow.”

Spider goes and hugs the sully matriarchs, his eyes slightly watery.

“It’s our turn now sully” Miles states with a teasing smile on his face.

Miles moves over to spider a large long bundle in hand neatly tied at both ends. Spider takes it untying the top knot to reveal the end of a new bow. His face lights up at it, it's a beautiful dark wood that miles had been carving the better part of the month. Ever since he was told about spider's avatar. The bow is expertly carved, the man having spent the better part of his life carving little trinkets as a stress outlet. After getting jakes expertise (really neytiris) the bow was ready to accompany spider the rest of his days

“Wow this is incredible, thanks dad”

“Your welcome kid”

“Hey, maybe now I can teach you how to actually use one.” Spider jokes causing miles to put the boy in a head lock both now wrestling around as everyone laughs.

“Ok boys settle down its my turn.”

Spider and miles separate as I bring forward my small present and place it in spider's lap. Opening it a necklace sits, a true warriors necklace beaded and braided, the only difference is that the focal point of spiders sits shining metal dog tags. His full name, nickname and d.o.b, engraved on them, matching the ones miles, I and the rest of the blue team all sport.

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of both sides of your family.”

“Mom it's perfect thank you,” he quickly placed the sack it was in down before coming over to me gesturing for me to help him put it on.

I do so and he turns smiling at me before enveloping me in a giant hug.

“I'll never take it off sa’nu.” I just hugged my baby back just a tight happy that he's here with me now.

*Think this. But instead of th bigger tooth its dog tags *

The party continued well into the night. Norm and the others calling it an evening and returning to the labs while they still could, light conversation flowing between the sullys and us until light snores catch our attention. All the kids now asleep piled together, I took a quick photo on spiders camera and we tuck the kids all in, putting the fire out into light embers that will keep the tent nice and warm. Good nights are said as I curl up in miles arms burying my head in his chest as he squeezes me closer, a gentle smile on his face as he kiss my forehead

“How you doing now darlin?”

“Im good love, i'm so happy, i don't even have word’s”

“Me to darlin me to.

We sit in silence listening to the quiet snores around us as we drift of into sleep. But a dread lies just beneath the surface of this happiness, waiting just beyond the horizon to try and cripple our new lives.

We decided to stay with the omatikaya for two weeks. Give the sullys time to be with their old clan and loved ones, give spider time to acclimate to being Navi and be able to pass all the challenges a young warrior his age would have completed by now. He makes amazing progress, a true natural according to neytiri, much better than Jake when he first entered into the clan she says all the time, But it's not all fun and games while we were here.

Under the cover of dusk before the sun rises Jake, miles and i along with some other scouts wait in the trees watching the hustle and bustle of Bridgehead.

“It doesn’t look like they are up to anything huge but they could easily Hide any new gear with how much the base has grown”

“Yeah if anything. It would be in those hangers If they were building a new battlecraft, but they have tightened security,”

“Or At least doubled it by the look of all the skeletal suits walking around the perimeter there.”

“We’ll have to keep an eye on them, help the forest clans come up with back up plans, I don't trust Ardmore to just sit patiently.

“Agreed

“If anything we need to take the RDA out in the ocean. While they do have crafts they can’t fight everyone in those. Heavy suits like they use would be at a disadvantage there.”

“Your Right Dove as always.”

“Thank you, love.”

“Ok ok, i'll ask Tarsem to set up some patrols, report anything they see, for now let's get back, the sun should be rising soon and the kids are ready for spiders iknimaya.

The better part of the week the kids spent training Spider. The boy already knew everything already, having been training since he could walk, but was more than happy to redone everything now that's he's able to fully experience it. We painted him up in the traditional paints like the other warriors and created a group to go up the sacred mountains once more.

“Bro lets do this” Lo’ak says excitedly, reaching the top of the cliff face a second before spider, Neteyam and kiri not far behind them. Miles and I sat next to our ikrans having just landed after watching the teens finish climbing up

“Thank god we don't have to climb that again.”

“Oh hush you big baby”, i say playfully smacking miles chuckling form. Now that the kids are all up and in one piece jake steps forward.

“Ok kids, let's get this done.” Jake says gesturing for spider to step up, he and miles not far behind (both being the over protective dads they are)

“You can do this Spider” kiri tells him gently all of us watching, our breaths held as Spider steps into the clearing. Despite our worries the young man steps into the clearing with confidence, challenging the ikrans like he was taught, waiting for one to challenge back. Eventually a darker blue one does, not quite the color of his fathers or the sully families, but somewhere in between.

With incredible speed, and grace, Spider was on the back of the banshee before we knew it. We all watched with joy miles calling cupcake and quickly climbing on, ready to follow his son over the cliff edge for his first flight.Everyone flies together, whooping and hollering being heard as the kids all race, miles and Jake joining as well as neytiri and I just watch with smiles on our faces. A rare peaceful moment for our families before the war comes back into focus.

The time with the omaticaya comes to a close, and back to the rest of our family.

The ocean is as beautiful as always, even more so looking at it from above the clouds. We see the clan coming towards us on the sand a couple of dark blue bodies blending in with the see of turquoise waiting for us to land, cheers being heard throughoutWe all quickly hop off letting the ikrans rest a moment before unpacking. Eager to reintroduce spider to the metkayina

“About time you all returned we were thinking of coming to rescue you by the end of the week” wainfleet says joyfully.

“Well we had a lot happen Lyle it all took time beside. Come see your godson's new look miles says pushing spider out from behind him towards the group”

They all look at him in awe,

“Hey uncle Lyle.”

“Wow kid is that really you”

“Yeah it's me. Im finally blue

“You look good kid”, z says next to him checking out his new necklace, and ruffling his braided hair. The rest of the team comes up saying their hellos, welcome backs and congrats to spider while miles and i unload the ikrans. Ronal and Tonowari step up from the crowd, all of us turning to them as he appraises our group once more but I can see in his eyes the differences he’s seeing from us before and the us now.

“I see you’ve all returned to us” Tonowari asks

“Yes sir” miles responds for us all

“And I see you have brought back another forest clan member”

“Yes and no sir” I speak up quickly, placing my hand on spider's upper upper back and motioning him forward.

“This is actually our son spider”

I say presenting my son to the clan heads once more, except this time he has his head held high shoulders squared back and jaw set, no longer trying to hide behind his father and I. He greets the olo’ekytan formally. Tonowari responds, a smirk on his face at the boy's cheekiness, he goes to speak but Ronal however beats him in saying anything.

“Eywa has transferred his soul?”

“Yes ma’am I passed through her eye and returned to be with my family”.

Ronal eyes circling. Him and taking in his new form, her keen eyes assessing him.

“Eywa has trully blessed your family, to not only allow you both a second life but to also allow your child to pass through her eye and return a member of the clan, it will be interesting to watch the journey the great mother has planned for you all.” With that she walks back beside her mate the couple sharing a look before Tonowari smiles back at us

“Welcome back to our clan, Spiders, may you walk in the ways of water.”

Everyone cheers as the heads walk away, the clan welcoming us all back. Some of the kids spider. Meet before running up to him all saying hellos including Aunong, Tsireya and Roxto. All tracing him with their eyes in shock to see the boy they knew now a young Navi man all i can do is smile knowing my boy now can have a better life.miles placing his arm around me as we both stare determination to keep this peace running through our bodies.

Tag list

@headsincloud9 @dyingofcookies @totesnothere04 @ratchetprime211 @myh3artttt @ducks118 @navs-bhat @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

S

[sins-of-a-spider]

A continuation of my Intersex!peter AU~!! I got so much love on the last one so here are some more ideas for it! @professional-benaddict helped with a lot of this and inspired a second part! Please go check them out~ All of their ideas are to die for!

—————

Stephen is Peter’s number one supporter. He’s the man in Peter’s corner he’s never had before. All his life he had been terrified of doctors from such negative experiences. They kept pushing for surgery when Peter didn’t want any at all. But Stephen pushed back, fighting against cosmetic surgery that in the long run would only make his baby more miserable.

“Mr. Strange, i’m sure you and your partner would be a lot more happy if he went through with the surgery.”

“Does he medically need it?”

“Well- no but-“

“No, you don’t get to speak! Then he’s not getting it! You cannot dictate what he would enjoy more. And don’t you dare talk like I have any control over his body and decisions. If he suddenly decides that he wants it then I support him. But he doesn’t. He loves his body just like I do. I suggest you write your letter of resignation before you’re fired. And its Doctor Strange.”

Growing up every doctors appointment gave Peter such anxiety. The nurses and doctors would tell him he would be so much more better off if he got surgery. They never would truly give him a clean bill of health or tell him frankly if anything was wrong, instead giving him the run around. Eventually he stopped going completely.

Stephen understood why but wanted his baby happy. Of course he gets his most trusted medical companion to do a full checkup, Christine. She is the one to finally give Peter a full clean bill of health.

“Alright Peter, its all looking fantastic!”

“Y-yeah…?”

“Of course! I’ve never seen anything so well cared for. I’m glad Stephen brought you in so we could make sure.”

“And i’m glad I took him in. Thank you so much, Christine. This means the world to him.”

“No problem. Just keep coming in for annual check ups and immediately if anything changes.”

“O-o-of course…! T-thank you I just- I needed to hear that so badly…!”

He breaks down in relief. In celebration Stephen thoroughly explores Peter that night💕 and now that Peter knows he’s healthy his libido is 10x what it was before. Stephen can barely keep up but he’s never been happier!

—

But eventually Peter does need a medical procedure. During his new annual checkups they find a cyst on one of his ovaries. He’s terrified to actually get the surgery done since he worries they’ll do more than medically necessary to him.

Stephen reassures him and is there holding his hand during the entire procedure, helping instruct the surgeons through it. At first he insisted on being the one to do it but soon realized he would never even be able to make the first incision. Just completely unable to hurt his baby in any possible way.

When Peter wakes up he has an extremely hard recovery to deal with but is excited to hear that it all went well. Stephen kisses him and finally breaks the bad news: no sex for a while. Peter being the drama queen he is, pouts during the entire recovery😂😂

“Just a little..”

“Peter-“

“No-no! Nothing crazy just like…. Your mouth.”

“Pete come on, i’m going crazy too you know.”

“I know! I know! Just- like… a little. Maybe a finger or two.”

“Peter intersex doesn’t mean you need to have sex all the time.”

“Not funny! I need you! Just like I need oxygen!!”

“……..”

“I can’t breathe! The world is ending! Its all going black!”

“Fiiiine. Only a little. Only my mouth.”

“YES!”

~~~~~~

Hope you liked it~ i’ll probs do a part three if this one goes over well too!! Let me know if you want tagged in the next one!

Tags: @professional-benaddict @rawringryu @buckyb-brainrot

[flickeringart]

Minor aspects

While the nature of the major aspects in astrology is quite straightforward and has been covered more than sufficiently, there’s still a lot of fog surrounding the nature of the minor ones. There are a lot of minor aspects that can be taken into consideration when interpreting a chart… however, since they are labeled minor they won’t be as obvious and much more difficult to spot in one’s own life. Note that this doesn't mean that they aren't impactful. There’s a lot of speculation and vague terms used when describing them. It seems that every minor aspect is said to have a “spiritual/creative dimension” as if that is supposed to clear up any of the mystery surrounding them. Perhaps, on one level, we don’t want to pin them down too much because certainty is the enemy of exploration. Or perhaps it’s the case that the aspects themselves don’t want to be pinned down? There’s an appeal in keeping certain things mysterious in our lives, to avoid defining and putting rigid labels on phenomena. It makes life alive and beautiful. Many people dismiss astrology is because they are afraid that they’re going to be reduced to a set of characteristics and have their personality mapped up to the point of being able to predict and foresee patterns of behavior and fated themes. The fear of knowledge is not irrational; it is probably healthy to an extent. Knowing too much can be dangerous and rob life of its magic. “Curiosity killed the cat”, as the saying goes. However, this is not the whole truth because curiosity also leads to expansion and better understanding, so let’s not be afraid to concretize these aspects, it's not the same as "killing" their potential. Life is never completely in our hands anyway, there's no risk of knowing it all.

Quintile (72°)/Bi-quintile (144°)

These aspects are said to have something to do with individual style and quality of creative work. It is suggested that these aspects say something about a mental-creative process of imposing one’s mind on a particular subject. It is also linked to talent and gifts the individual would possess that have not been actively learned. Basically, it seems to be indicative of the particular way a person would approach a subject. For example, the quintile would not describe the activity itself - the activity could be painting, knitting, running, cleaning or whatever – the quintile/bi-quintile would point to the way the person approaches the activity.

For example, Ted Bundy (whose chart I’ve explored a bit here), has Neptune bi-quintile the MC. Neptune, being the planet of illusion hints to Bundy’s quality of being a chameleon, deceiving the public as part of his personal style.

Prince Harry, (whose chart I’ve touched upon before), has his Moon bi-quintile Neptune. The Moon can be indicative of the mother figure, and his mother Princess Diana certainly had an elusive style and charm that was a bit deceptive and seductive. Of course, he would have the same thing going in his own life but it would perhaps be difficult for us to spot. He also has Moon quintile Venus and he definitely has a style/quality of emotional-physical comfort. He has Pluto quintile the AC, which would point to a style of showing up in the world that is powerful and intense. He has a tendency to come off as destructive and chaotic at times. There’s also a quintile aspect forming between Mercury in the 8th house and the MC which would hint to a public image that is colored by the “taboo” things he has said about his family in the recent present, but also in the past. He’s a public image that is aligning with the style of the playful amoral trickster.

As I’m going with charts I’ve already explored, let’s look at the quintiles in Meghan Markle’s chart. Her Venus is quintile Uranus and it perfectly describes her style of “wokeism”, that is, appearing to be objective and intelligent about feelings and affective values. She has a style of being “the loving humanitarian”. Whether she is this way in an actual sense is debatable. The quintile aspect is describing the quality and style not the actuality. But, it is disturbingly close to reality that it somehow becomes reality. It’s like the actor who adopts another energy signature in order to portray a different person. It doesn’t really matter if a person is rotten at the core - if he has a loving way of being, what difference does it make? The style is real enough to not reflect and give the impression of love.

Semi-square (45°) / Sesquiquadrate (135°)

These aspects are said to precipitate events. The nature of these two aspects is more immediate than the square aspect (which causes tension and doubt and needs constant navigation). The conflict represented is usually unconscious and is therefore not easy to identify. However, as these conflicts tend to manifest quite abruptly, we can take a look at the concrete problems the person faces. The planets connected by a semi-square/sesquiquadrate aspect will be in conflict but force some kind of release (that may result in an accident because of it’s autonomous/unconscious function).

I have Saturn sesquiquadrate my Moon. Since I tend to unconsciously block my emotional responses, the pressure builds and I am “forced” to get out of a situation, “forced to listen to my emotions”. I have encountered the theory that the sesquiquadrate in particular is manifesting as something that is looked down upon societally. This would make sense considering the aspect forces a breakout of one of the planets and nothing that is immediate and abrupt is ever favorably looked upon when it comes to social-societal structure and predictability. I have been meaning to take on commitments that would further my status in society in terms of formal education (Saturn in the 9th conjunct the MC) but I have not been able to do it without considerable decline in my emotional well-being. So, I have been “thrown out” by unconscious forces every time I’ve tried.

My sister has her Venus sesquiquadrate Saturn. She’s known for her deliberate and strategic way of dressing. She plans her outfits carefully, there’s nothing haphazard about the way she presents herself. However, she has Lilith conjunct Venus so she can push the limits and simply do what she pleases sometimes as well when the pressure of Saturn becomes too much. But, this often causes external judgment. A relative of mine has her Sun semi-square Venus. I can tell that she’s highly aware of her appearance. She is very pretty but there’s always something that is a bit off between what she wears and her self-expression. It’s like it doesn’t quite fit and it’s irritating.

To get back to the celebrities, Meghan Markle has Neptune sesquiquadrate Mercury. Is it possible that this forces distortion and vagueness in opinion and communication? It would certainly fit the bill. She also has Uranus sesquiquadrate Mars. She simply has to “break out of her confining situations”, cut people out of her life and move on in her own way. Uranus is also sesquiquadrate her MC, which seems to point to her unconscious pull to “do what she wants to do” at the detriment of her public image and reputation. Notably, Uranus sits in her 5th house of personal enjoyment and creation.

Prince Harry has a semi-square between Mars and Pluto. When he is angry it blossoms into rage and he can’t see straight. It has gotten him into quite a lot of trouble and societal-social disapproval. It seems that this is a common theme with the sesquiquadrate and semi-square. He also has his Moon sesquiquadrate Jupiter. Isn’t it the case that he tends to indulge in a way that makes him look bad in society?

Quincunx (150°)

This aspect is typically found between planets incompatible by element and mode. Basically, they have nothing in common and have a hard time cooperating, which will cause minor stress in the individual because of necessity to work around the incompatibilities. The planets are not in direct conflict but they are uncomfortable with each other.

For example, I have my Moon quincunx Mercury. Every time I sit down to write I’m mildly disturbed by little things like an aching back, a headache, restless legs or whatever. It’s not very comfortable for me but I can still keep with it, however it might take a toll on me health wise. The quincunx has been related to health issues because of the mild stress that it causes. It is manageable and one is usually able to cope with the stress, but it’s not very pleasant. Because it is not as demanding as more disturbing conflicts in one’s life, it’s in the background causing irritation.

Meghan Markle’s Venus makes a quincunx aspect to her MC. This suggests that she has a hard time reflecting her value on a public level, it’s as if how she’s perceived publicly disturbs her sense of ease and comfort. She has an Aries MC with a Virgo Venus and she’s continuously depicted as a bully these days, as some kind a selfish and aggressive bitch (the more negative attributes of Aries). This must be undermining her self-worth immensely, however, it’s perhaps too minor of a problem to do anything about. It is still there nonetheless, harping on in the background, breaking her down and causing slow disintegration…

Semi-sextile (30°)

Planets forming semi-sextile aspects are said to be able to aid each other, to have a better connection than if they had no link at all. Usually one planet is in the sign that comes before the sign of the other; in other words, a semi-sextile might be forming between Mars in Aries and Venus in Taurus. The semi-sextile usually connects consecutive sign like this, but planets could be in semi-sextile in the same sign, like Mars in 0° Taurus semi-sextile Venus in 30° Taurus. In any case, the planet placed at an earlier degree or in the earlier sign can draw on qualities of the planet in the later degree or the later sign and vice versa. For example, Prince Harry’s Venus in Libra is semi-sextile his MC. He can draw on his sense of harmony a diplomacy to benefit his public image. His Mars in Sagittarius is also semi-sextile his MC, which makes it so that he can draw from his Martial qualities of energy and action to influence his career and success.

Parallel/Contra-parallel

These are called aspects in declination because they are measured by latitude and not by longitude. This essentially means that two planetary bodies can aspect each other in a certain way measuring the distance between them north-south of the celestial equator. Two planets at the same degree north and south of the equator form a parallel aspect and can be interpreted the same as a conjunction (some say that it's more obscure like a quincunx/semi-square). Two planets opposite each other north and south form a contra-parallel aspect and can be interpreted as an opposition (some say that it's basically the same as the parallel though).

I have found, looking at my own chart that these aspects only confirms already existing aspects measured by longitude or it confirms the sign that a specific angle is in. For example, my MC is in Aries and it is also parallel Mars. Mars is the ruler of Aries so it emphasizes my already martial MC. My Sun is conjunct Saturn and it’s also parallel Saturn. My sister has a Scorpio MC and it’s also parallel Pluto, the natural ruler of Scorpio. For example, my sister has a wide Moon-Mars conjunction (6°) but they are also in contra-parallel. How is this supposed to be interpreted? I would simply see it as Moon-Mars is connected strongly despite the orb being a little wide with the conjunction.

However, it’s not always the case that parallel and contra-parallel aspects only confirms already existing influences. They can also add themes and connections. My sister doesn’t have any longitude aspects between Saturn and Uranus but they are contra-parallel to each other.

Septile (51.43° - a 1/7 of the 360°)

It is said to indicate a hidden flow of energy between the planets involved, an inner sensitivity to the spiritual dimension of the planets. Another description I have come across is that the planets “darkly interact” and there’s an occult theme surrounding the connection.

I have Venus septile Jupiter in my own chart. Going by the said method of interpretation, it would mean that I have sensitivity to the hidden wealth and underlying beauty and abundance in life. I think it is quite accurate.

Novile (40° - 1/9 of the 360°)

Is said to be describing a contact of perfection/idealization. It also seems to have something to do with spiritual awakening and growth, lack of fear and freedom.

Having Sun novile Saturn for example could be interpreted as a feeling of communion with the world and life itself through responsibility and the control one can exercise through self-expression.

----

There are of course other minor aspects to explore, but I'll stop here for now.

[loltaku-braindead]

Cinderella girlboss is bad and I think they should make her ND instead of "independent"

Maybe it's my own personal bias as an ND person but I liked Cinderella as a kid because I found her to be naive and kind and weird like me and every adaptation tries to destroy this and the movies get worse. Also Hollywood doesn't have a clue how to adapt queerness on screen. Anyway, here are a few reasons why Cinderella should be adapted to be on the spectrum:

- the step family is always portrayed to be assholes in the most cartoonish way, bullying an orphan girl because she is prettier than them. The abuse would make so much more sense if they had a shop and she would make clients run away by stimming or she would show signs of ADHD by not following orders or literal thinking/bluntness. Like she could say stuff like "I like your big nose" to her sister not realizing people don't like big noses on women and the sister could "attack back". It's a much more realistic instance of bullying and abuse and people might actually question their biases. It's also a huge source of fun that autistic people can enjoy too if done well (e.g. think Onion's autistic reporter Michael Fawn)

- she might be cleaning the house because she desperately needs order and the family didn't bother to tell her she doesn't need to do that. They could even kind of regret it but rationalize it with her "being useful in some way"; another hit to the audience that never thought much about the insanity of autistic inspiration stories

- her talking to animals could be adapted to be "hyper-empathy" as many autistic women are like this and have encyclopedic knowledge on animals; she can sing with perfect pitch to them because she can tell the animals enjoy her voice while others don't see it. This would "girlboss" her in a more fun way than making her a streamstress that's somehow judged for trade (highly historically inaccurate). You can have a musical that feels cohesive with reality and it's not just another musical.

- the relationship with the prince would make sense, as ND people form relationships very fast with one another as we communicate differently. Have them talk about hyperfixations instead of falling for looks. This gives us the ability to make the prince interesting in a myriad of ways, you can have him refusing to go to war because it would be a sensory overload and you can have him mask very well to then drop the mask in private. Maybe the prince made all the princesses run away and they make an insider ball because it's the only possible way for them to have their son married. It would be funny and not offensive to have him completely oblivious to all the flirty social cues.

- Ella could refuse to come to the ball because she doesn't like parties or it doesn't fit her routine. Secretly she wants to go but she doesn't want to embarrass her sisters. Because they don't expect her to go they don't notice her being there or assume it's someone else. Even if they notice her, they will pretend they don't know her as in this version the step family is not evil but rather "desperately wants to be normal".

- a nonbinary fairy god-parent could be attracted to help Ella because she understands how it is to be misunderstood, you can have them meet Ella before and have Ella not question the lack of gender. This sounds better than the good old "oh you are good, they are bad, this is why I give you a night out". The costume choice would also be fun cause Ella could complain about the materials and fit, much better than whatever "yass queen" scene they made

- Ella leaves the ball because she experiences sensory overload. Goes home to feel safe. The prince gives a ridiculously clear description of her looks and voice and this is why they find her. When they meet he can test her with unusual questions or echolalia and the step family is okay with not marrying the weird prince

- in the Disney look it seems like Cinderella has "noise cancelling headphones", of course this could be something she made to hear better and the ball dress could be adapted to fit them

Of course, I'm not petitioning for an autistic disney princess, as I'm working with already existent material that's used horribly every year anyway. I really think Cinderella fits the bill for ND representations more than other Disney princesses (maaaybe also Snow White). The 2010's girlboss craze could be turn into it's head (as people are sick of it) to show complex characters on the skeleton of old stories by looking into mental health, aesthetics, neurodivergence, life philosophy and use of humor that's more than "random". Right now they are losing money by the minute making vaguely poc stars sing about their strong persona and are throwing themes of vulnerability, abuse, social inequality and life purpose found in the original stories right in the bin. They are trying so hard to be feminist they become sexist. Maybe explore themes outside of feminism in women and you'll wake up with better feminist representation when you don't stare so much on the "woman" part of the character and you let the rest shine on it's own

[creativeashproductions]

Back to the 118 // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Buck meets the firefighter he replaced as the reader transfers back to the 118. The reader never expected to fall for a co-worker the first day back at the 118 after two years spent at the 155 in Los Feliz.

Warnings: Swearing, sickness, hospitals, health issues, pregnancy, angst and a shit ton of fluff

Words: 5.9k

A/N: So this is obviously a modern au for jatp to fit in the 911 universe. To make this work, Buck replaced Reader instead of Tommy after many failed probies. Eddie then later replaced Tommy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your e/c eyes scanned the outward appearance of the first firehouse you’d worked at fresh out of the Academy. The place that had become a second home from the increased tension-filled house your parents still lived in. A place you had escaped as quickly as you could for a dream career. A career your parents hadn’t been proud of in the beginning, with the danger that came with being a firefighter paramedic.

“You the new recruit?”

Your eyes fell from the building to the male individual standing near the open bay the engine and ladder truck both used. The male in question must have joined the 118 after you transferred to the 155. The stranger towered at least six feet minimum with blue eyes and short blonde hair with the slightest wave.

“No-”

“Flint!” The excited voice of the only other female paramedic called out. You only saw dark navy before you were pretty much tackled.

Hen and Chimney had equally taken you under their wings when you initially joined as a rookie. You’d been the second female firefighter-paramedic at the 118 and the youngest by far. As if you’d summoned him, you felt the arms of Chimney sandwich you against Hen.

“Flint?” The stranger parroted, blinking his eyes at the rather unusual scene of Chimney and Hen wrapped around an unknown girl.

“What are you doing here?” Chimney questioned, stepping back. Hen scoured your entire form for any differences that had occurred.

“Y/N decided to come home,” Bobby spoke from a few feet behind the reunion with the beaming smile on his features. His lips pulled into a smile directed at the first recruit he’d taken on his first year at the 118.

“Bobby!” You grinned, meeting the father figure in the middle of the distance between you two. Bobby wrapped you up in his arms tightly, a certain lightness cocooning the Captain as he took in his friends.

“You’re back here?”

“Everything is squared back at home now, thankfully, and while I loved working with the 155, it wasn’t home. This will always be home.”

“Buck, this is Y/N Patterson. She worked her first two years with the 118 before transferring to the 155 in Los Feliz. Y/N, this is one of our newest members, Evan Buckley.” Bobby gestured towards the previously nameless firefighter.

“Who would leave the 118?” Buck questioned, unable to come up with a valid reason to leave the family at 118.

Buck’s opinion didn’t stand with his only workplace after successfully becoming a firefighter solely was the 118. Never had he worked in another firehouse. He’d been a fire marshall and volunteered his time in the Austin wildfire, but he always came home to the 118.

“Family issues.”

2018, Firehouse 118, Los Angeles

A fresh-faced, albeit dirty from sweat and soot, jumped down from the engine truck’s high steps. The synchronized slam of doors sounded from your colleagues and friends Hen and Chimney. All three individuals famished for the casserole Bobby had premade during the slow morning.

“Baked Mac n’ Cheese.” Tommy breathed from his position by the driver side. Tommy Kinard was a stoic man towering over six feet. He was always a gentle giant after you’d bonded after a hard call.

“Clean up, and I’ll have it in the oven. It’s Chimney’s time to make the salad and Flint’s turn to set the table.” Bobby spoke with barely a glance to the ground ahead of him. 

Your Captain jogged towards the stairs, whereas his team made their way to the locker rooms for a well-deserved shower. You and Hen split away from Tommy and Chimney to the women’s locker room that had gotten an upgrade.

Well, before you joined the Academy, the locker room had been used as a glorified game room, all thanks to the misogynist Captain from hell. Hen often had over the years mentioned how lucky you got with Bobby being your first Captain.

“Chimney better not put those onions like he did last time.” You spoke from under the stream of warm water. Nothing beat the warmth of a shower near the end of your shift erasing the evidence of your job.

“Man needs to learn the complimentary salad to the main dish.” Hen piped up from across the shower room.

You and Hen had both showered and redressed in a fresh uniform in under five minutes, the dirty one placed in a laundry bag. You’d managed to beat the boys to the upstairs by a few seconds. Enough to set half of the able before Chimney began to making his salad of choice.

“Looks great, Cap.” Tommy complimented the gooey homemade pasta Bobby religious made every third Thursday. He alternated between pasta recipes with the odd new recipe every once in a while.

“What are you waiting for? The bell?” Bobby quipped to the unmoving bunch of hungry individuals. His words started the boisterous meal time preceding the end of shift.

“So, we’re halfway through dinner and Amber-” Your phone interrupted the disaster date Tommy had begun telling. He continued as soon as you waved him to go ahead while you took the call.

“Hello?” You breathed into the phone.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The warmth infused in your mom’s voice soothed the ruffled feathers from the call you’d come back from, “How are you?”

“I’m good! We just finished eating. My shift is almost over, and I’ll have to go straight to the store for groceries-”

“Y/N, we found him.”

The him was easy to figure out given your brother had run away from home three months prior with only his dreams in mind. You’d spent most of your off time, sometimes even during shift out on a call, to scan the environment for Luke. You became a regular in questioning hospitals and homeless shelters.

“Where was he?”

“His band had been about to play at some big venue last night.” Mom’s word choice concerned you. Her voice dripped with sadness instead of the typical disappointment and annoyance on anything to do with Sunset Curve.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“A few nights ago, the boys got hotdogs-”

“Streetdogs.” You interrupted with evident anger in your tone at the mention of those death dogs Luke consumed. You can’t even give a number to how many times you had told him how unsanitary and dangerous the food is.

“Something was wrong with the food. They got ill fast. Alex and Reggie are being kept for observation but will be found with a few days of rest.”

“What about Luke?”

“He tried to call 911; he was weak and fell. Y/N, he hit his head. He’s in the ICU in a coma.” Emily Patterson’s voice cracked as soon as she acknowledged the current state of her youngest child.

The colours of the world dulled as soon as your mind clicked that Luke was in the hospital. Your little brother had put himself in danger all because he had a big dream. Your mind flashed through your life growing up with him.

You remembered talking to your mom’s growing bump when she was pregnant with Luke. You remembered five-year-old Luke unable to settle unless you sang to him. Your voice was nothing special, but it soothed the little boy when he had a nightmare. You could vividly recall teaching Luke how to play the guitar when he was thirteen; the brunette a complete natural at it.

“What’s his prognosis?”

“Too early to tell. The doctor is hoping Luke will be in a general room after tomorrow if the swelling goes down. I wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“How’s Dad?”

Emily hesitated from her position by a hospital bed. Her brown eyes carefully scanning the male sleeping soundly in the bed.

“Mom?”

“Your father had a heart attack last night. That’s why I haven’t been able to tell you sooner. He’s currently sleeping, but he’ll have a barrage of tests later today-”

“I’ll be there as soon as my shif-”

“No. Don’t drop anything. I can keep you up.”

“Excuse my language, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying away from my family. I’ll take a few days off. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Your thumb tapped the red circle on the bottom of your screen.

The 118 didn’t bother pretending they hadn’t been watching your form during your phone call. Bobby felt like something had drastically changed in a few minutes you’d been busy on the phone.

“Everything okay?” Bobby inquired from his position at the kitchen sink. His hands in the sudsy water to scrub the empty pan.

“My brother and my father are in hospital. I’m gonna need some days off.” You informed your boss with a look of utter defeat coating your expression.

Those few days transitioned to transferring to the closest firehouse to your childhood home and the hospital. The medical bills from both your brother and father had begun to overwhelm your mother with the current single source of income. Emily didn’t ask you for anything, but you started renting the home you’d bought for extra money.

It was a silent agreement that you paid rent as a cover to helping with the bills piling up.

Present Day, Firehouse 118

Buck followed behind the welcoming group to the girl that seemed larger than life. Buck was impressed by the sacrifice you’d made for the good of your family. You’d willingly given up the family of the 118. Buck didn’t know if he could do the same.

“Welcome back.” Hen cheered on her guidance to the heaven everyone called the kitchen. Your department issue duffle bag dropped out of the wall on the top level.

Your eyes zeroed in on the spread of your favourite foods prepared by the only person aware of your return. It was only one look of gratitude towards the father figure before everyone dug in.

A few changes had occurred since you’d last sat at this table. Tommy Kinard had left the 118 for the 217 shortly after your departure. He’d been replaced by the ready to impress Buck. One thing that hadn’t changed was the delicious food Bobby made.

Your eyes found the sole empty chair at the long table, “Didn’t you say the house took on two new recruits since I left?”

“Buck took your position when you left. We had a revolving door of firefighters before Buck permanently joined.” Chimney supplied with a mouth full of lettuce and grated carrot. Hen whacked his arm for his lack of manners.

“You’ll meet Eddie on the next shift. He took the day off. It’s his son’s first birthday since his mom died.” Bobby informed you with that pinched wrinkle between his eyebrows, “He joined after Tommy left.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet the entire team.” You replied, looking past to the circular table behind Bobby’s spot. Sam and Ryan both waved happily upon catching sight of you back at your unspoken seat.

You listened intently as Hen shared the changes Denny had gone through in the time you’d been away. Chimney was ecstatic to point out the faint scar on his forehead.

“You had rebar go through your skull, and you’re completely fine?” You questioned, floored by the pure luck Chimney had.

“Oh, it was nasty. Went in from the back of the skull to the front.” Buck spoke enthusiastically, recounting the scene. Chimney deadpanned a look at his younger coworker, “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s like you never had it happen.”

“Doc was shocked at how positive the outcome and healing was. I was back at work within a month on light duty. I beat my record getting in my turnout gear.” 

“And yet my little brother was comatose for two months.” You grumbled under your breath. None of the people could make out the words, but the grimace on your face was enough to show them it was personal.

In true 118 fashion, the bell rang throughout the firehouse with the disembodied voice declaring the type and location. Yoru e/c eyes found Buck climbing into the driver’s seat where Tommy had once commandeered. It was odd not having the man who’d became an older brother to you.

“How’re your parents?” Hen questioned, sitting diagonally from you. Her fingers repositioning the radio on her chest.

“Dad’s recovering pretty good. Mom’s started attending her knitting club again.” 

Buck’s eyes raised to the rearview mirror to meet yours in interest, “What happened?”

“Uh...my dad had a heart attack a couple years ago. He took a long time to recover with the further stress that caused it.” You piped up, understanding the news would come out at some point, “My little brother was in an accident that left him in a coma. Life was just as messy after he woke up.”

“He’s okay?” Chimney questioned, “I know we’ve never met them, but it really gutted you.”

“Well, physically, he’s fine, but emotionally he’s upset. He was in a band, and when he came out of the coma, he found out some devastating news.” You continued to explain, but unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, you’d come to the scene.

It was a little known place most teenagers discovered as a hang out spot just on the edge between your county and the next. The location was the infamous spot of cliff jumping; you knew because this was something you’d recklessly done in high school.

“He’s over here!” A blonde male of average height called from the edge of the cliff. His blue eyes were bright even from this distance, matching the detailing on his swim trunks.

Surrounding the edge with the boy was a group of teenagers his age, all in different versions of swimsuits. You found the scared brown eyes of a beautiful girl you vaguely knew from the few shows of Sunset Curve you had watched. Her dark blonde hair plaited out of her face. Her face clicked as Carrie Wilson, Bobby’s sister or cousin.

You jogged towards the edge of the cliff to look over. It was easily between fifteen to twenty feet from the edge of the cliff to the water. You recognized Hen crouching by your side, looking at what you were looking at.

On the rocks was a prone body of a teenage male with bruises already forming on his face from where you could see. His thick shoulder-length hair laid still half in the ponytail and around his head.

“Head trauma.” You murmured to Hen, scanning from a distance, “I can’t tell much from this height and angle.”

“Either a broken tibia or fibula. Spinal injury is definitely a concern.”

“Okay, his name is Willie Young. He’s eighteen years old. His sister Kayla was dared to jump off by doing some kind of flip. Willie took her dare and didn’t jump far enough or tripped over a rock.” Bobby listed having been talking with the group of teenagers all shook up.

“I can rappel-” Buck began to speak before you cut him off firmly.

“It would take too long, and the angle is difficult. Nobody rappels down it; the cliff isn’t stable enough. It crumbles pretty easy, and the unofficial name of this cliff is Devil’s Dive.” Your eyes found Carrie’s tear-filled once and the utter devastation in who you pegged as Kayla.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve jumped off this cliff for years as a teenager. You’re looking at the resident champion of self reckless endangerment at Devil’s Dive.” 

Hen, Chimney and Bobby each stared, shocked at your revelation of stupid teenager decisions.

“Then how are we gonna get down there,” Buck questioned, staring at the unconscious teenager lying on the rocks.

“Easy, I can jump from here into the water and climb onto the rocks to where Willie is. I have the experience of how and where to jump safely.” You spoke to your Captain with complete confidence in your abilities, “You can lower down the kit, radio and backboard by a rope. There’s a mansion beyond the trees that you can ask to borrow a boat from the owner. He’s eccentric and questionable but nice enough.”

Bobby nodded his head to your plan. You unbuttoned your uniform shirt to strip down to the department t-shirt with the emblem on your chest and across your back. You kept the boots and emptied your pockets of anything. The butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the height of the cliff you hadn’t jumped from in years.

“I’ll jump where-”

“Excuse me?” You scoffed at Buck’s assumption he could follow you.

“You’ll need another pair of hands to roll him on the backboard. I don’t have anyone waiting for me at home. This is kinda what I do. Bobby cleared it already.” Buck shrugged with a half-smirk on his handsome face.

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly gave Buck a rundown on how to jump correctly before you tossed yourself off the cliff. The cold water momentarily shocked your system as soon you submerged under the water. You swam to the surface before swimming towards the rocks. Willie hadn’t moved an inch.

“Whoa! That was so cool!” Buck cheered once he’d appeared on the surface of the water, “No wonder you used to do that!” 

His excitement both annoyed and amused you, “Eh. I was just an idiot kid who thought they were invincible.”

The two firefighters lifted themselves onto the rock formation, where blood stained the rock. While Buck retrieved the backboard and essentials from the rope, your hands moved across Willie’s body, checking for breaks. You caught the c-collar Buck tossed without looking. You quickly but gently put the collar on Willie.

“Hi, Willie. My name is Y/N, and I’m a paramedic. I’m gonna check you over for injuries.” You informed the teenager closely. You’d only just opened his eyes to flash a light on them, “Buck let Bobby know Willie’s pupils are reactive to light and the same size.”

“Got it!” Buck called out from the open medkit, “I’ll splint his leg.”

“W-what happened?” Willie wheezed sluggishly. His brown eyes were unfocused.

“You got hurt trying to jump off the cliff. You’re in good hands, Willie. I’m a paramedic with the Los Angeles Fire Department. This is my coworker Buck.”

“Kayla?”

“Perfectly safe, but you did give her a scare. Willie, can you feel this?” Buck questioned, gently touching his right foot. Buck and you both gave a sigh of relief as Willie confirmed he felt it.

 “Okay, we’re gonna roll you on to the backboard. On three: one, two, three.” You counted before rolling Willie on his side with Buck. Willie’s cry echoed around the surrounding as you settled him on the board.

“Need a ride?” Chimney asked as a very nice boat floated towards the three people on the rocks. Hen and Bobby helped load Willie onto the boat, “Mr. Covington agreed to let us use the boat if we don’t get blood on the seats.”

“Can you call my boyfriend?” Willie sluggishly asked when he was loaded into the ambulance on the cliff. Kayla sliding into the seat in the back of the ambulance with their items.

“Alex is meeting us at the hospital.” Kayla told her older brother, “You absolute idiot! You should have just let me jump!”

“And let you be in the back of the ambulance? Dad would kill me if I had let you do it.” Willie scoffed. Their conversation was silent as Chimney and Buck closed the back doors of the ambulance.

Bobby, Buck and you climbed into the fire truck to follow the ambulance to the closest hospital. Hen and Chimney rolled the gurney to the doors with Kayla hot on their heels. You’d just turned to head back to the truck when you saw three teens loitering near the entrance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled, marching away from Bobby and Buck to the teen who was supposed to be in class.

Luke had been forced into private tutoring to catch up to his friends in his grades, meaning every afternoon. The watch on your wrist confirmed Luke was definitely supposed to be with his tutor at the community centre.

“Luke!” You shouted, stomping right up to the wide-eyed teen.

Luke’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his older intimidating sister caught him like his hand was in the cookie jar. You didn’t give Reggie or Alex a second look while you gripped Luke’s ear to tug him away.

“Ow!” Luke whined from the angle you dragged him at.

“What the hell are you doing across the city? You’re supposed to be in your session that our parents are paying a great deal for.” You snapped, crossing your arms in your wet t-shirt.

“We need every chance we can to-”

“Make it big in the industry.” You parroted the past discussions on Luke’s dream as a band, “Do you remember how I got mom and dad off your back? An agreement that you finish high school on time. Not dropping out.”

“So many musicians have dropped out! Green Day’s frontman dropped out his senior year to focus on the band. Several others like Elton John and Kurt Cobain!” Luke enthused, gesturing with his hand to emphasize his words.

“Luke.” You warned, “It’s either catch by with a tutor with some time dedicated to your band, or it’s a military school.”

Luke’s hazel eyes minimally widened, “They would-”

Your stoic expression stayed the same as the energetic seventeen-year-old bounced in his spot across from you. 

“There’s only so much I can do before you lose everything. I know you feel anxious after what all happened, but music isn’t going anywhere.” You reached to squeeze Luke’s hand in yours, “So, I’ll clear it with my boss to have you ride the bus to the station. You’ll have your tutor sessions with my supervision, so I know you’re attending.”

“Y/N!” Bobby called from next to the firetruck, “We gotta go.”

“I’m guessing the Alex that Willie is dating your best friend?” You questioned with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in response, “Let mom know you had to be there for Alex. She’ll let skipping your session go this once.”

“Thanks!” Luke chimed, lunging to hug you. Your mouth barely opened before he was racing towards a jittery Alex and a grinning Reggie.

Reggie lifted his arm to wave with his flushed cheeks a darker red colour. You found Reggie’s crush on you to be absolutely adorable. He was a friendly kid.

“He looks good for a kid who was in a coma not long ago.” Hen breathed as the teenager entered the ER with his best friends beside him.

“Oh, he healed quickly. He was crushed after he fully recovered from his head injury.”

“That was your brother?” Buck inquired, and he was just as focused on your features as he had since he first met you. 

“Yeah! He was in a coma for ten months when he was sixteen. He’s spent the last two years catching on on school to graduate with his friends. Well hopefully. He’s dead set on dropping out.” You heavily sighed, leaning your temple on the glass window, “He was supposed to be at a tutoring session. I’ll be chaperoning to make sure he goes.”

“If you need to have them at the station, send me a schedule, and I’ll make it work. Luke’s just as much family as you are.”

The rest of the shift was smooth sailing as Buck followed you around with the sole purpose of getting to know you. The friendship came naturally to the two of you. He didn’t hold back with you like he did with others. Fridays off became hangouts that varied from just Buck and you to spend it with Eddie and Christopher.

Everyone could see Buck had developed feelings for you and vice versa. Unlike the man Buck used to be, he was cautious. He wanted to do this right. And Buck did. With the help of Christopher, he asked you out.

Months Later

Buck’s eyes fluttered open in the dim lighting of your new home’s bedroom he often found himself in. Before, you had alternated staying at his apartment or yours before a significant change happened. Luke moved in to finish his senior year with the help of your tutoring, as agreed with your parents. That led to you giving up your former home, the one that coincidentally Buck’s sister Maddie had rented from you.

“Luke! You better be awake!” Your voice came from the main floor of the home. Your voice alone seduced the firefight to leave the warm sheets.

His bare feet pattered down the hardwood floor stairs into the kitchen coated in all different kinds of breakfast food. Waffles to imported maple syrup to bacon spread across the counter.

“Morning,” Buck grumbled, stepping up behind you to tug you against his chest.

Unlike Buck’s softer footsteps, your little brother tore down the stairs like a stampede of elephants. Luke wore a vintage band shirt modified sleeveless; you’d be getting a voicemail about dress code violations. The chains hanging off his black jeans.

“You have to hurry, Lu. Buck and I can’t be late. He needs to get to his apart-”

“I don’t see why he doesn’t just move in. He’s here almost every night. He helps buy groceries.” Luke’s hazel eyes stared at the plate he towered food on.

Buck raised one eyebrow in response, “You just moved in. You should be settled before we make-”

“Dude. Your lease is up in like a month; just move in already. No feathers will be ruffled. Besides, the band’s taking off now that Nick got his dad Ryan to check our music out.” Luke sprouted with a beaming smile at the good news his new band received.

After Luke had recovered from that coma, he’d woken up in a world where Alex, Reggie and Bobby, no Trevor, now continued the band. Then when Alex and Reggie couldn’t go on, the rhythm guitarist betrayed Luke. He stole every song he could get his hands on and proved successful.

“Ryan Evans, right? His sister’s some bigshot on Broadway? Sharpay, right?” You questioned recalling in the early 2000s the success of Sharpay and Ryan in some kind of Disney films based on them.

“You’re about to be the sister and brother-in-law of a certified rockstar.” Luke’s attempt at smirking made him look like a chipmunk with full cheeks of food, “I don’t need a ride. Alex’s picking me up.”

“Straight to school, Luke. You’ve got two weeks left before you can leave that behind.” Buck pointed his coffee cup in the direction of the passionate musician. Luke returned a smile of acknowledgement.

The kitchen was quiet as Luke shoved as much food in his mouth in such little time while you watched. In a flash, he’d stuck his dishes in the dishwasher before sprinting out to the van beeping continuously.

“Think we can have you moved in by tomorrow? Your one-bedroom place will be a little cramped for five people.” You simply spoke as you rinsed your coffee cup out. You could hear the wheels in Buck’s brain turning as he thought.

“Five people?”

“Yeah. Luke, Albert, me, you and baby Buckley.”

The entire home went completely still as the announcement bled into the house you’d made a home. One hand resting against the smoothness of your belly. That hand covered by the calloused one of Buck’s. His blue eyes gleaming in utter adoration and excitement.

“Baby Buckley?” Buck marvelled, turning you to face him with tears running down your cheeks, “You’re pregnant?”

“I am. I guess we’re giving Maddie’s daughter a cousin.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now I’m obligated to see your parents regularly, and I still grimace at the first introduction.” Buck winced, recalling the foot in mouth syndrome he’d developed.

Buck had never been as nervous as in this moment. Not when he had to tell his parents the first time he got kicked out of college. Or when his teenage self sat beside one of his flings waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. Not even on his first date with Abby. 

“You’ll be fine.” You soothed the anxious man standing by your side on the doorstep of your childhood home. The door opened, revealing Luke standing with a grimace, “Oh Mom, made you wear that.”

Luke had been stuffed into one of the only long-sleeved shirts he owned by your mother. It was a magenta maroon hued corduroy shirt and set off his chocolate hair perfectly. Apparently, your mother hadn’t been able to get him into a pair of pants that weren’t skinny, black or ripped.

“We’re meeting your boyfriend, not the damn Pope-”

“You wouldn’t be wearing that if the Pope was involved.” You retorted, stepping to tug the younger Patterson into your arms. The only thing you adored about your little brother was he never denied a hug. Physical touch is his love language, so he never went through a phase.

“Lucas, don’t let them freeze on the front porch!” Emily shouted from within the Patterson home. Luke rolled his eyes at his mother’s request.

“Luke, this is my boyfriend, Evan Buckley. Buck, this is my not so little brother Luke.” You swiftly introduced the most important males in your life.

Luke and Buck got along better than any previous partner you’d brought home. He got along with your parents really well. Even when he slightly embarrassed himself as the time came to go home, whether it was his place or yours. He kissed your mother’s cheek and shook hands with your father.

“No offence, but thank you for having a heart attack and a coma. If you hadn’t, I’m sure I would have never met Y/N.”

Luke snickered at Buck’s odd choice of words, as did your parents. A part of Buck dreaded the next time he’d see your parents.

The gentle press of lips against your cheek pulled you from your thoughts of the first family dinner. Despite the issues between Luke and your parents, they were great people and parents; Buck had felt like he finally fit in. Even with that awkward thankful he gave your brother and dad, he was family the minute Mitch and Emily saw the mutual looks.

“How are we gonna do this?”

“Well, as the pregnant one, I’ll carry the little Bean until it’s time for them to enter the world. Then we’ll-”

“I get that but with our jobs?”

You felt guilty at the dread of not getting to do what you love, but you were excited, “I’ll keep working as a paramedic. I’ll stay away from fires, and then I’ll go on mat leave. We’ll make this work, Buck.” 

Buck leaned down to rest his forehead against yours with his eyes closed, envisioning how life was about to change. Buck adored children. He had loved Christopher from the moment he’d first met him. Buck himself was a kid at heart. 

“I didn’t think I could fall more in love, but you continue to surprise me each time,” Buck murmured with that gorgeous smile that utterly melted your heart from the first time you saw it. Back when you tried to deny any feelings beyond friendship.

“We’re so lucky to have you, Evan Buckley.” You breathed as you leaned up to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Although it was mostly clashing of teeth with the matching wide grins on your face.

“This little girl is gonna be a heartbreaker but no boyfriends or girlfriends until they’re thirty.” Buck declared, tugging you into his arms. His blue eyes twinkling in the natural lighting.

“It could be a boy.”

“Or maybe neither. Boy, girl or non-binary, I’ll love them just as much.” Buck spoke once more.

Gideon Buckley was born in the early morning to the pride of his parents and extended family. He was a healthy solid 8 pounds with sparse dark blonde hair and the trademark grey-blue newborn eyes. You everyone but Buck and your surprise Gideon wasn’t alone. Grace Buckley followed her older twin brother eight minutes later.

You rested against the propped up pillows spent from the exhausting hours of labour, but it was worth it. The two tiny babies snuggled beneath the swaddling blanket concealing your bare chest. Skin to skin contact was absolutely the best part of being a parent.

“Did you steal a baby?” Chim joked upon entering the hospital room with Maddie in tow. Right behind them were your parents and Luke.

“I’d like you to meet our twins Gideon and Grace Buckley. Surprise!” Buck quietly cheered in the nearly silent room. Buck’s curated newly parents playlist gently playing in the background.

Mitch and Emily came closer to look at the little loves they proudly got to claim as their first grandchildren. Emily’s heart melted upon hearing Gracie coo in her sleep. Grace and Gideon’s fist pressed against each other.

“Congratulations.” Maddie breathed, bending to catch a peek at the twins’ faces.

“Luke. Would you like to meet your goddaughter and godson?” You questioned the nervous musician. The nineteen-year-old tiptoed his way to the hospital bed.

“I’m both their godfather?” Luke choked as soon as Buck gently transferred Gideon onto his uncle’s chest. 

“There’s no one else in the world I’d choose to help guide them in the right direction. You always found your way back onto the right path. You’ll do the same for them.” Buck answered with Gracie nestled on his chest.

 Buck was the first to hold them followed by you and then their godfather Luke.

Gid and Gracie, although unseen, had been in Luke’s graduation pictures and watched as Julie and the Phantoms signed with a record label. Where Gid was, Luke wasn’t far beyond; the special bond melted everyone. Likewise with Gracie and Alex.

Gid overall was a happy baby compared to Grace. Loved visiting the firehouse. Loved the people working with their father and previously their mother. For the entire first year of Gideon and Grace’s life, you stayed at home with the utter support of Buck.

“First day back.” Hen spoke from beside you on the bench in the women’s change room. As a fellow mother, she’d been watching your behaviour.

“I miss them. I feel guilty that I abandoned them-”

“Okay, your feelings are valid, but you aren’t abandoning Gideon or Grace. You’re teaching them that you can be a great mom while also being a badass firefighter. I was the same when I went back to work after we got Denny.”

“Do you ever wish you could be a stay at home mom?”

“I love Denny with my entire heart, but I couldn’t do that. I was meant to be a paramedic firefighter as much as Denny’s mother. Besides, I can see Maddie pushing in the double stroller.”

Your head snapped to see your sister in law beaming with the double stroller carrying Gideon and Grace. Maddie’s daughter sitting on the seat made for a toddler. Maddie and Chimney had come to a decision for Maddie to work part-time.

Hen watched as you bounded out of the changeroom in uniform to scoop the twins into your arms. In a split second, Buck was down the stairs cooing at the absolute loves of his life. His partner and two children.

Buck would forever be grateful for finding his way to the 118, where he found his true family. A place of acceptance, love, trust and loyalty. Buck found his place in the world, and that was beside you.

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[wrathandgreed]

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor! 

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably)  gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands - 

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts. 

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from. 

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say. 

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you. 

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger. 

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea! 

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too. 

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict. 

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking.  Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him. 

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked. 

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response. 

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother. 

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet. 

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night. 

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn’t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 21: Body Talk

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder’s thirty years past kindergarten, but the anticipation he’s feeling in his body is reminiscent of the excitement he felt as a child over bringing his new model airplane to school for show-and-tell. Except the context is very, very different.

He’s got an envelope tucked into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and he’s highly aware of every crinkle it makes as he strides through the halls, making his way down to the basement.

He’d expected to receive a clean bill of health, so the contents of the envelope weren’t a surprise. Even so… he’s fuckin’ thrilled.

“Morning, Scully,” he says cheerily, waltzing into the office and peeling off his jacket. “Another hot one out there, huh?”

“Mhm,” she responds, already elbow deep in paperwork. She’s always got her nose in some pile of documents, his Scully. God, she’s so cute, it’s unbearable. He thinks of when they first met, how rosy and round her cheeks were. He regrets not having done something earlier; he missed out on kissing her adorable baby face.

He really wants to kiss her now, but they’re at work, and she’s made it abundantly clear that At Work Scully is not open to the physical demonstrations enjoyed by Off Duty Scully. Instead he sidles up beside her, holding out the envelope in front of her.

She takes it, clearly noticing that it’s already been opened. “What’s this?” she asks.

“Just a little something, from me to you,” Mulder replies, going around the desk and plopping into his chair. He clasps his hands behind his head casually, grinning at her as she slides the folded paper out of the envelope.

Scully unfolds the page and scans it, nodding to herself. “Congratulations,” she says, glancing up at him. “This is… welcome news. But you didn’t need to bring me the physical test results, Mulder. Your word is enough.”

“Oh, but I know how much you enjoy solid evidence,” he says with a wink. “So, uh… do you have your results back yet?”

“This is definitely not an office-appropriate conversation,” she warns him, slipping the page back into the envelope.

“Sorry,” he says, lowering his voice. “But…”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “Last week. I’m in the clear.”

He smiles even wider at her. “So, given this new information, what do you suggest we do, Agent Scully?”

She holds the envelope out to him across the desk. “Right now, our jobs.”

He licks his lips, nods. “Of course.”

Ten minutes later, she gets up to put a file in the filing cabinet. As she closes the drawer, she lets out a soft cough.

“Friday,” she says in a low tone. “My place.”

Mulder feels a thrill roll through his stomach. “Now how am I going to get a single thing done around here ’til then?” Mulder asks. “All I can think about is-”

She gives him a warning look.

“-You,” he finishes. “Every moment, Scully.”

Scully gives him a little pout. “I’m sorry, Mulder. That must be very difficult for you. You know what you need?”

“What?”

She picks up a stack of folders out of their in-basket and drops it in front of him on the desk. “A case.”

Mulder doesn’t find them an actual case, but he does manage to annoy Scully with conjecture and conspiracy for two whole days until it’s closing time on Friday night.

This could be the most important romantic encounter of his life, and he wants to make sure he’s adequately prepared. He takes a cold shower when he gets home, scrubbing every inch of his body until his skin tingles. He clips and files his nails, plucks some stray hairs, trims a few scraggly ones down south. He almost shaves his face before deciding to leave it be. He suspects Scully likes a little stubble, after all.

It’s a warm evening, so he throws on a gray t-shirt and jeans and bounds out the door with damp hair and crisp, soap-fresh skin.

As a rule, he doesn’t sing while driving; but today, he’s humming just a little.

He knocks on her door at quarter to seven, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to shake out a little anxious energy. This isn’t a prom date, he chides himself. Calm down and be an adult.

The lock is turning and the door is swinging open and there Scully is, looking soft and inviting and dangerous all at once. “Hi,” she says, giving him a little smile.

“Hi,” he says softly, eyes drawn immediately to the low neckline of her simple wrap dress. He snaps his gaze back up to her face again. “Hi, sorry, I’m-”

“A little distracted?” she asks slyly. She opens the door wider. “Come in,” she says, beckoning.

“I, uh, didn’t bring anything,” he says awkwardly, following her into the apartment. “And now that I’m here that feels kinda thoughtless.”

“What would you have brought?” Scully asks.

He shrugs. “Flowers, wine, something that says ‘I want to get laid but I also respect you’,” he says.

“Well, that’s unnecessary,” she says, going into the kitchen and opening her junk drawer. “I already know that.” She pulls out a small stack of takeout menus. “I’m assuming you haven’t had dinner yet?”

I was kind of planning on having you for dinner. “I have not,” he replies.

She hands him the menus. “Pick a place, we can call something in,” she says. She takes a box of matches out of the drawer and walks over to the fireplace.

Mulder glances over the menus, but he’s mostly watching Scully. She seems relaxed and comfortable, lighting a few candles atop the mantlepiece.

“You want a little music?” she asks, blowing out the match.

“Sure,” he replies. “Surprise me.”

“Promise you won’t tease me for this,” she says, flipping through a stack of CDs.

“Any of those restaurants sound appealing?”

“The Italian place sounds good, but I don’t want my garlic breath to put you off,” he admits sheepishly.

She glances over her shoulder at him, giving him a little smile. “That restaurant usually sends a few mints in the bag; and you have a toothbrush here, if it’s that big of a problem.” She puts a CD into the stereo.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” he says. “You want me to call it in?”

“Sure,” she replies. “You can order me a chopped salad and some of their spinach ravioli. And get garlic bread,” she adds.

When he hangs up the phone, he sees her standing by her stereo, nodding her head in time to the music. The song is slow and sensual, and somehow familiar. He goes to her, places a hand on her lower back. His spot.

“Marvin Gaye?” he guesses.

“Mm, no. Al Green,” she replies.

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “Never took you for a Motown fan, Scully,” Mulder says, pulling her in by the waist. “You always keep me guessing.”

She closes her eyes, sways in his arms. “I save this one for very specific moods,” she admits.

“And what moods are those?” he asks, running a hand up her back.

She opens her eyes. “I’ll show you later,” she whispers.

She’s looking at him with so much heat and adoration, and her lips are so full and soft, he can’t speak; only lean down and kiss her.

They drift together, interlocking shapes moving through space, rearranging patterns of hands and lips.

“We’re going to get interrupted by a delivery guy again,” Scully says against his cheek.

“Mm… kinky,” Mulder whispers, lips brushing her ear. “This is gonna become a pattern for us. Are you an exhibitionist, Scully?”

“Baby steps,” she says, patting his chest as she pulls away. “I need to leave a few mysteries for you to discover later, right?”

They sit cross-legged on the floor next to her coffee table, knees touching companionably as they eat their dinner.

“You know,” Scully says around a bite of garlic bread, “This makes me think we should go on another picnic. Since the weather is more appropriate.”

“What, sitting on the frozen ground at night in February wasn’t your idea of a good time?” Mulder jokes, tangling his fork in linguini.

“I didn’t say that,” Scully points out. “In fact, that was one of my better birthdays in recent years.”

“Really,” Mulder says, surprised. “Why?”

She absently toys with a hole in his sock. “Because… because I’d had a rough year,” she explains, “And you put thought and care into doing something special for me. And it was perfect, in all its perceived imperfections. It made me feel that for once… you were finally paying attention. You saw me.”

“Saw you?” he asks softly, turning his head to look at her.

Her eyes shine into his. “Yes. You were there for me through my cancer, with Emily… you were becoming more attentive. And I felt like you were considering me, caring for me, knowing what I needed. Seeing.”

“I-I think that’s called love, Scully,” he says, chewing pensively. Part of him is surprised this is even happening; them sitting on the floor in her apartment, eating pasta out of styrofoam boxes, talking about their feelings. Hell, he just said the ‘L’ word without breaking a sweat.

“You’re right,” she says, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. “It is.”

Supper completed, containers emptied, candles burning down to stubs on the mantle, Scully sitting across his thighs as they kiss slowly. She was right about the mints, it turns out.

“Mulder, I’m a coward,” she sighs, running her fingers down his jaw. “I’ve been in love with you for years and I still haven’t said the words.” She presses a kiss to his lower lip. “Even though I know you reciprocate.”

“Take your time,” he replies, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “I already know. And you technically did just say them,” he adds. “Besides, there’s more than one way to have a conversation.” He smoothes a hand over her kneecap, inching a finger beneath the hem of her dress.

“Mulder,” she murmurs into his neck, his name sweet in her mouth. “I’m ready. I want to be with you tonight. Completely.”

He can feel his pulse throbbing beneath her lips. “I… God, Scully, I want you so badly,” he sighs. “I can’t think of any other words. I'm all out.”

She kisses his nose, untangles herself from him to stand. “Come on,” she says softly, holding out a hand. “I think it’s time for a different kind of conversation.”

[chysgoda]

📚📘

You my friend get the non WTF thoughts (most because I’m out of them)

So some day I’ll get around to writing all of this and like actually stitch the few scattered paragraphs together. Bel is by far the most fleshed out of my OCs and someday I really am going to write her entire journey from child to warrior who can stand side by side with her mom (WoL). The kind core start of her story that isn’t family fluff and drama is figuring out how to get a dragoon soul stone to work for her. I subscribe to the cannon/HC/Fannon (I’m honestly not sure which it is) that only those of Ishgardian decent with the blood of Ratatoskr can be dragoons, it’s not a outsiders bad thing it’s a need dragon blood in your veins thing. (WoL is an exception because WoL) So before Art’imis goes off to do WoL things for n Ala Mhigo she helps Bel work out a deal with the Knights Dragoon that she has six months to get the soulstone to work for her or she has to give it back. So after much training and frustration Bel goes to Aynx Trine to get advise from Vidofnir. (Art’imis’s skewed ideas of age appropriate activities for 11 year olds included visits to Eorzea’s biggest cat tree) Vidofnir directs Bel to Hrasvalger who says he’ll only help her if she rejects Hydaelyn’s blessing of light and remakes it by her own work. The intention is that the tiny hatchling will never do that and go away and stop bothering him. However what he doesn’t account for is that A) Bel really fucking wants to be a dragoon B) has the teenage arrogance not to consider that she can’t do what he asks and C) Bel has been very sus of Hydaelyn for awhile both because of Lahabrea dropping doubts on to the impressionable child while he was wearing a Thancred suit and because she is very bitter that Hydaelyn took Aunt Minfilia away. So crystal gets yeeted and Hrasvalger lives in a state of surprised Pikachu face while Bel goes through shenanigans to meet his criteria. (There may or may not be a scene where Midgaurdsommer shows up to ask his son what the fuck he thought was going to happen) So once Bel’s task is completed, Hrasvalger give her some of his blood to drink (thank you Into the Land of the Unicorns for that idea that has never left my brain) and is effectively adopted into Hrasvalger’s horde. So couple of training montages later we arrive at Ghmlyt Dark where Bel is a front line soldier for the first part of Shadowbringers until a grenade blast destroys her hip and to much aetheric healing makes it so that the muscle and bone can’t support the aether needed for a dragoon’s jumps. From here we follow her recovery and coming to terms with having to find something else now that she has had to put aside her Drachenmail. Once she has a clean bill of health she follows Krille’s suggestion to join the arcanist’s guild. Here we explore a lot of head cannons about the dragon song and dragon magic as Bel researches how to repurpose Hrasvalger’s gift to her new situation. By Endwalker Bel has an ESA carbuncle, a Utahraptor like familar (another story) that actually does battle, and a working knowledge of how to use the dragon soul for spell casting. Thank the twelve that the guild mistress is willing to give her an ‘end of the world’ extension on her dissertation.

The other long winded story I think about is my rewrite of the PLD 50-60 line. Because that line SUCKS and is the worst set of job quests in the game, no I will not be taking criticism at this time. It’s kinda evolved into three stories intertwined about how three character come to their own place of faith and conviction that a Paladin needs. There is Tristan the Fiend Slayer a Paladin of an Ishgardian order that got the Knights Templar treatment while he and a rouge set of Paladins were at Cartenau. Exiled on pain of execution he wanders Ethyris looking for a purpose after his oaths in Ishgard have been denied to him. Somehow he finds his faith again and now stands tall as a free Paladin who is not related to the Saultansworn and therefore 100% cooler. This leads into my WoL’s (Art’imis) line. Art’s faith in pretty much everything is shattered after the bloody banquet. While her swordsmanship is top notch she can no longer call on the magics a paladin uses. She meets Tristan when Momondi sends him to help her fight a newly summoned Ifrit. (Yes Tristan has the echo) with Tristan’s help she escapes the ambush Ilberd and the Crystal Braves planned and Tristan goes back to Coerthas with her under mask and an assumed name. Tristan goes with her to check out what’s up with Sozkazgyl. With his guidance and having to help train Constaint the three unravel Sozkazgyl’s frankly selfish and unhinged plot to make Constaint an Ishgardian Batman and show up the Sultansworn. (Because that is exactly what he’s trying to do in cannon and it needs to be deconstructed hard). This leads into Allie asking Art to teach her to be a Paladin after the weapons line. Art can’t promise to be around enough to be an effective trainer but she can take Allie to Ishgard where Tristan is rebuilding the Order of the Unseen Crown at Aymeric’s request. There under Tristan’s tutelage and with the support of her girlfriend Bel, Allie finds her own faith and conviction to honor the memories of her siblings and protect their home. So yea it’s like three versions of the heroes journey and would probably be told concurrently rather than linearly.

And that was extremely long. Maybe someday I’ll actually write it.

[heavencollins]

Top 10 Films of 2020: Part Two

And the last five of my top ten are...

5: Unpregnant, directed by Rachel Goldenberg and written by Rachel Goldenberg, Jennifer Kaytin Robinson, Jenni Hendriks, Ted Caplan, and Bill Parker.

This HBO Max Original was the tipping point for me actually purchasing HBO Max, and I haven’t regretted it since.  Starring two absolute queens, Barbie Ferriera and Haley Lu Richardson, Unpregnant tells the story of a teenage girl who finds herself in a situation she wants nothing to do with: pregnancy.  Her boyfriend informs her that the condom broke a few weeks ago but he didn’t tell her, which is fucked up in it’s own right, but that they should keep the baby and raise it and get married.  Veronica, played by Richardson, quickly says no and runs to her old friend’s house; Bailey, played by Ferriera.  Veronica learned that you cannot access abortions in her state without parental consent, so she makes a plan to roadtrip to New Mexico from Missouri to get an abortion that should be a human right.

Veronica and Bailey have been estranged for years, as Veronica became popular and Bailey fell into the realm of introvert, pothead, and nerd.  But Bailey misses their friendship, and says yes to going on this road trip because she knows they’ll have time to grow close again.  Throughout the road trip, the girls reminisce and become closer than they have before; Bailey revealing her sexuality, Veronica facing the reality of her shitty relationship and not-great friends, and the fact that chosen family is often better than real family.  

The film is aggressively pro-choice and feminist, but also is a feel-great movie, not just good, but great.  it made me both laugh and cry, as well as cheer on both characters.  There’s a lot of really, really, really wholesome narrative within this and it’s a film targeted at teens for teens.  It shows what a healthy relationship is and that no matter how different your best friend is from you, you’ll still have the same connection as always.  I love this one.  

4: Saint Frances, directed by Alex Thompson and written by Kelly O’Sullivan.

One of my favorite facts about this film is that the lead star wrote it, and she works as a team with the director, Alex Thompson, and is partners with him in life as well.  Saint Frances focuses on a 30-something woman named Bridget who finds herself with no set path in life.  She’s childless, sleeping around, has no real career other than waitressing, and doesn’t know what she wants to do with herself.  Her friend recommends her as a nanny to a lesbian couple around her age who are having their second kid and need help with their six year old daughter, Frances.  

Shortly before starting her job as Frances’ nanny, Bridget undergoes an abortion via pill, which means you bleed in the safety of your home and get to do it outside of the medical appointment.  This plays heavily into the plot, as her periods end up being heavier than ever throughout the rest of the film and it becomes a slight joke between all of the characters.  It also shows how little Bridget really cares for her own health, as she doesn’t think to go to the doctors at all and that it’s totally normal.  

Frances helps Bridget grow up, as well as bringing her two mom’s together after the birth mother of the newborn suffers from extreme post-partum depression.  Bridget and Frances end up becoming best friends, and it’s a truly touching film that feels like a home, if that makes sense.  I could watch this again and again and never get sick of it.  O’Sullivan and Thompson are a fantastic writer-director team.

3: Shirley, directed by Josephine Decker and written by Sarah Gubbins and Susan Scarf Merrell.

A movie about one of the greatest horror novelists and short story writers of all time set in Vermont starring Elisabeth Moss?  Alright, I’m in.  Shirley held very tightly in the number one spot until just this month, because it was that good.  Moss plays Shirley Jackson, the horror writer we all know and love, and there’s something haunting about her.

While the story is highly fictionalized, with two characters being completely made up (the young couple played by Odessa Young and Logan Lerman), the film takes place right after Jackson published The Lottery and as she’s writing her next novel.  Her husband, Stanley Hyman (played by Michael Stuhlbarg), is a professor at Bennington College and Jackson finds herself shying away from the stereotypical role of a faculty wife.  She’s aloof, callous, straight up rude to the other wives and prefers to spend her time alone in her room, writing.  Hyman prefers to cheat on her with younger woman and yell at Jackson for not being more social.  This is most likely true to real life.

The young couple work as a mirror for Jackson, people she can project her novel onto and try to see how it will play out.  It’s reflective of her writing style.  This story is told with lavish cinematography and a score that reminds you of wind whipping between the trees, one of the best scores I’ve ever heard, actually, and it’s just lovely.  Despite being mainly fictionalized with some truth sprinkled in, it’s by far Decker’s most palatable work for a wide audience (though I loved Madeline’s Madeline).  I highly recommend this one to anyone.

2. Never Rarely Sometimes Always, directed and written by Eliza Hittman.

I’ve loved every single film that Hittman has put out, but this one is especially poignant in the current political climate.  Abortions should be widely available, but sadly they aren’t and often teenagers have to travel to other state’s to have to have their procedure done without putting themselves in danger by telling their parents.  

In Never Rarely Sometimes Always, two cousins go on a trip to New York City to procure an abortion procedure, not informing their parents beforehand.  Except nothing goes to plan; they end up having to sleep in strange places, use all of their savings, and even steal portions of money from the grocery store they both work at.  This film is quiet, sad, and real.  

Perhaps the best scene in this is when the title comes into play.  Anybody who has been to a physical appointment knows the questions they ask, but it’s especially nerve wracking when your body is at risk for something.  The nurse asks questions, stating never, rarely, sometimes, or always after each.  Skylar, played by Talia Ryder, starts to hesitate as the questions get more and more personal.  And then she finally breaks down.  It’s overwhelming and scary and she’s finally vulnerable for the first time in this entire movie.  

While Unpregnant and Saint Frances provide more witty and funny tales about abortion and unwanted pregnancies, Never Rarely Sometimes Always gives a dark and gritty tale of what having no help in those situations can look like, ultimately putting yourself in the most dangerous situations possible to make the right choice for yourself.  

1: Swallow, directed and written by Carlo Mirabella-Davis.

I don’t want to say much of this film because it’s something you truly have to experience.  Hunter, a woman who finds herself pregnant with her rich husband’s child, finds herself having what can only be called abnormal food cravings.  Except, what she eats isn’t necessarily food—she suffers from an extreme form of pica, causing her to eat everything from marbles to staples to little figurines.  She proudly displays her collection on her desk, cleaning them off meticulously once she passes them.  It’s a horror film but the horror isn’t necessarily in what she eats, it’s how she’s treated.

In fact, her eating habits are the one thing she has control over in her life until even that’s taken away from her.  Her husband’s family doesn’t care about her—only the fetus she’s carrying.  It’s a really good representation of an abusive husband that you don’t often see, because none of the abuse is physical, rather, emotional.  

I can’t say anymore because then I’d be spoiling—all I have to say is go watch it.  Please.  It’s so amazing. 

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (ix) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

tags are still open :3

chapter 9: you matter to me

I can’t believe I’m done for today. I almost thought I’d never finish these pies and my feet are killing me. What I would give to be one of those rich soccer moms who drive nice SUV’s and go to brunch and get massages.

I’m done baking but I need to clean the mess and I don’t think I’ll be able to. I need to sit down for a bit and rest my back against something soft, like my mattress. I miss my mattress. I wish I could leave the dishes and get home already.

The bell rings and it startles me from my reverie. Did Nat forget something? She always forgets her wallet or keys.

“Nat is that you?” I yell from the kitchen.

The door opens and I see the last person I was expecting.

“Bucky. What- what are you doing here? Is there a problem?”

“Hi, no, I just wanted to see you, I- needed to see you”. He closes the space between us and I feel my heart in my throat.

“Is that alright?” He asks politely.

“What?” I’m too distracted by him and I’m not sure I even heard what he said.

“Is it alright for me to be here? I brought you a gift” He smiles a tight lipped smile and my senses are on edge, I can smell the sweetness of his cologne and it’s just the right amount of lavender and sandalwood for me to want to run into his arms but I stay put, my arms stiff on my sides.

“Did you? Why? It’s not my birthday”.

“It’s an apology present. I’m sorry for being an ass and making you feel uncomfortable. Here, open it”.

I grab the box and rip the light purple paper apart.

“It’s a Bundt pan!” I say to him while tears start to form in my eyes.

“And it’s non-stick!” He points out with the most adorable excited grin on his face.

“Oh my god, this is the sweetest thing someone’s ever done for me, thank you, Bucky!” I can’t resist it now and throw my arms around his neck.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart”. He wraps his arms around my waist and even though my growing belly stands between us, it still feels amazing to be held by him again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have crossed any boundaries between us, I know, but you need to know how much you matter to me. I’m here to tell you I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready. I don’t care if it’s today, tomorrow, or a year from now, I just need one thing from you”.

“And what is that?” I take a step back from his embrace to see his steel blue eyes looking serious but vulnerable at me.

“I need you to not push me away, and everyone else who wants to help you, for that matter!  Do you think you could do that?” 

He takes a strand of hair away from my face and I know I could never deny him anything when he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the universe. I hold his hand in both of mine and bring it to my lips ever so gently, his forehead rests on mine and I whisper yes to him.

“I promise to not push you away, or my friends. You and this diner have become the most important people around me and I know me and my baby are gonna need you guys... But you and I, we need to take things slow okay?”

“I could go slow, yeah!” He throws his arms around me again and this time he squeezes the life out of me, beaming in excitement.

“Okay, doctor, you’re crushing the little peanut now”. I try to say between giggles and jagged breaths.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s okay, I need to sit down though, too many emotions for a day”.

He helps me down a stool and sits next to me.

“Hey, so what do you say I invite you to dinner tonight?” 

“Tonight like right now?” 

“Why not? I bet you’re hungry”.

“Oh-kay… where will we go though? I don’t mean to be picky but my stomach can’t really take just whatever at the moment”.

“You still struggling with morning sickness?”

“I get morning sickness, afternoon sickness, middle of the night sickness, you name it”.

“Y/N you should tell me these things, I’m your doctor! I can prescribe you something!”

“Right, I just didn’t know how to talk to you after that day”.

“Oh. Right, I understand. Well, let’s get you something at the pharmacy before we get dinner, what are you in the mood for?”

He helps me clean up the kitchen and lock up the diner and we talk about the girls and Sam, nurse Maria’s latest antics at the hospital and how much he’s missed my pies. After an hour or so, we get into his car, I turn on the radio and we enjoy the music while he drives away.

~

Always on my mind

Always alone

You could be miles and miles away

But somehow you're close

If I can't have the cake

And I can't eat it too

I guess the sound of your voice and the ache

It'll just have to do

Cause the trouble with wanting is I want you

The trouble with wanting is I want you

The trouble with wanting is I want you

And I want you all the time

-

We stop by the pharmacy and I wait in the car while Bucky goes inside to get some pills that are supposed to help me keep down my meals instead of puking them out, he also brings me an ice lolly to help my dizziness and nausea. We park at an Italian restaurant and I notice a man and a woman get into the car next to us. He’s here and he brought Alice. Bucky’s about to get out to open my door when I grab his hand.

“Stop”.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”

“Yes, but it’s not-” I sight and signal Bucky to look over my shoulder.

He sees them too and his eyes grow angry at the man who used to love me.

“Do you want us to leave?” He says without taking his eyes off of Quentin.

“No, I think they’re leaving, let’s just wait here”.

“You sure? Do you want me to go out there and confront him?”

“What?! No! Why would I- no, it’s fine, Bucky. That’s just gonna make things worse, he was already jealous of you at the hospital, I could tell. I don’t need any other obstacle in the way of divorcing his lying, cheating ass”.

Bucky finally looks at me when they drive away and holds my hand in his. He brings his lips to my knuckles and steps out of the car to open my door. We enter the dimly lit restaurant and a young waiter takes our order. Bucky gets the pesto spaghetti and I order the chicken marinara.

“You don’t deserve this. I know you know you’re better off without him but still, he was your husband and you loved him once, so… I’m sorry you had to see them together”.

“Thank you. I’m alright though. I guess seeing him with Alice made it even more tangible, permanent, but maybe that’s exactly what I needed to get motivated and work my ass off until I can pay that lawyer and be done with this quickly”.

“Hey, speaking of that, did you pay the hospital bills already?” 

“I will, on Monday, after that I can start saving up for the divorce and when the birth happens I might have to ask for a loan. I don’t know how, but I’m determined to get through this, for my baby”.

“I respect you for that, but Y/N, you really don’t have to work your ass off, matter of fact, for your own health and your baby’s, you shouldn’t. Here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re gonna let me pay for the past hospital bill- and before you say anything, being a doctor there, I’m sure they will give me a discount, so you don’t have to worry about it, you can keep your savings and call that lawyer as soon as possible, okay?”

I look straight ahead and think about it for a minute. We had this conversation before and I think it’s time for me to stop being so proud and stubborn. The sooner I get rid of Quentin, the better it’ll be for my own peace of mind.

“Okay. But-”

“No, no buts! You’re gonna take it and I’m also going to pick you up from work from now on, you shouldn’t be walking after long hours of standing. When I’m done for the day at the hospital I’ll give you a ride home, when I’m late and have to stay extra hours Sam will drive you home, alright?”

“Wait, how d’you know Sam?”

“Um. it’s a long story, but we talked about this and he agreed”.

“Alright then”.

“Alright then”. He echoes my words and I scoff at him.

“I didn’t know you were so bossy, Doctor”.

“I’m not”. He smiles down at me from across the table. “I care about you and I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure you get through this in one piece. This baby is only going to be a healthy, happy little girl if her mamma is also healthy and happy”.

“Right now I’m pretty happy”. I admit and take a bite from my plate.

“Yeah? Italian food makes you happy. Duly noted”. He winks and I feel so complete in this moment. There’s nothing that could pop this little bubble we’re in. 

-

chapter 10: I didn’t plan it

[rk1kheadcanons]

I’ve seen Markus get the horny virus, but imagine Connor getting, and Connor is BEGGING to be fuck, although Markus has some doubts about that, when a random guy offers to help Connor, Markus just goes “no I do it” and pushes the guy away and proceeds to fuck Connor within an inch of his life.

OMFG, I HAVE NEEDED THIS PROMPT LIKE FOREVER!!!!

YESSS! GIVE ME THAT BLURRY EYED, FLUSHED, WRITHING CONNOR TRYING TO GET UP OUT OF HIS CLOTHING AND JUST...😤😤😤😤 (y'all I need a moment, okay, OKAY?)

They were just discussing security measures against cyber attacks since they were technology-based sentient beings. Anti- android groups were getting smarter, more persistent in their attacks against Markus as the leader.

What no one expected was Connor's near panicked expression after freezing mid sentence then the anguished scream that poured from his lips as he crumpled to the ground. Everyone was up and moving to help him, Markus at the forefront.

Connor is unresponsive and is immediately taken to the medical bay. Diagnostics show it as a breech of his systems and there are varying levels of worry from the others though Markus is besides himself in guilt- laced worry.

Everyone is on edge, knowing instinctively its Cyberlife as Connor's no stranger to their attacks; they try this monthly, sometimes daily. His will proves stronger everytime, though.

So what does Cyberlife do? They attack him in a area he's most vulnerable, still new at, and typically awkward the most, enhancing emotions that Connor had meticulously hidden away because they were at odds with just him being able to have friends after his initial purpose to android kind.

They've perverted his love for Markus and put it on display as a mockery of everything he's worked hard to gain: their trust. Him being hacked is more than just a personal attack from Cyberlife, it questions whether being around him is safe and Connor cant go through that type of loneliness again.

Connor had felt something hit him full force mentally as Markus spoke to the others listening intently. Maybe he groaned out his discomfort as his temperature had risen he feels so much...

It's like a fire is consuming him from the inside and now its centralizing to his lower stomach and groin area and he has all these new emotions and nuanced feelings sparking and they are intensifying by the moment.

Connor maybe jerked up out of the chair, surprising everyone, a panting, flushing mess. He'd tried to and succeed in getting out the room trying to make it to his own only to fall down, curling his arms around his waist, in a swirl of insane want/need.

Of course Markus would find him first. He wouldn't even delay in picking Connor up bridal style despite Connor's fear below the want and the other's wariness of what's affecting Connor.

As soon as Markus so much as touches Connor, a symphony of sensations and sounds start coming from Connor. They're... Sensual.

Connor starts writhing, begging for some decidedly lewd actions.

Markus stops responding from instant over clock and a handful of squirmyboi.

This is a line. This is a huge line to be crossed neither Connor nor he have spoken about. Sure, they prodded the attraction and acknowledged it, but both were too afraid to take any action, make it official.

Was Connor a virgin at these sorts of things? It would be absolutely terrible to have to experience this emotional and physical onslaught as a deviant having never explored sexually and to have to under these conditions...

Incoming call from: Connor 313248317-51

Markus shocked look as the sounds and pleas to be absolutely fucked into oblivion poured from Connor's mouth like he was making a deal with the devil himself shot right to Markus groin. It total at odds with the call obviously from Connor, himself.

Markus answers and Connor sounds as fucked as he looks in his arms.

Markus knows that he has to.

"Please, please you have to. I don't have time to talk before I'm completely overtaken. I-I have to have to...I need, Markus. I trust you. It has to be you. I've never- But if I could show you my thoughts, feelings to help you, you'd understand I do not mind. Markus, please..." It's a garbled mess of a sentence and markus knows what has to be done.

That program is going to have to be worked out of Connor's system the proper way and Markus would be helping.

The call disconnects and Connor is fucking keening in his embrace. Markus runs the rest of the way to his room. He quickly tells the crew that he knows what must be done, that it is a sensitive situation and he'd update them, soon.

Markus tries to slow Connor from stripping his clothes off in a lust-filled haze. It doesn't work as Connor's clothes are discarded like strips of tissue paper.

Connor has this wild look in his eyes, along with curled, unkempt hair, and that look.

Connor had completely stopped moving with the exception of his harsh breathing cooling heated systems and minute shivering. He'd switched tactics.

It wasn't the perfected form, but Markus didn't mistake it either: Connor was hunting Markus. He was going to get what he wanted one way or another.

Markus was so turned on right now and he'd really have to delve into the subject matter at a later date but for now, he knew he was meant to strip.

Once Connor was assured that he was going to be successful in this particular mission, nothing could stop the running jump that had him careening into one very ready Markus.

Connor feels right in his arms, in this type of intimacy and it's what helps him move with the wildcard that is Connor. The kiss isn't gentle initially, all teeth and frayed nerves. Its not until Markus finally gets Connor manhandled into a position with his hand buried in his curly locks and him buried to the hilt in Connor, burning this malware away together, hoping Connor will remember their conversation somewhat, even as he scratches at Markus arms with his back bowed, his mouth dropped open like its the best feelings in his life.

Markus can attest its the best feeling in his as he drapes over Connor's body , moving with purpose and love for this man, ashamed it took this to show it in this form.

After Markus has burned himself into Connor and the malware away, Markus sits with a in stasis Connor. They'll talk about this situation after Connor got his pelvis realigned and a clean bill of "health" on the destroyed malware.

It was was a long time coming but Markus couldn't regret it being him to have been there. He loved Connor.

[darkstar6782]

Fade to Black - 1.17: Hell House

1991

They’re on their way back from school when Dean finds a five dollar bill in a gutter less than a block down from the local candy store. Without a second thought, he grabs Sam’s hand and drags him inside. “Get whatever you want, Sam.” But two weeks ago, Sam had listened to a dentist that had come into their classroom to talk to them about taking care of their teeth, and he had been very clear about how bad candy was for them, so while Dean is filling a bag with a scoop from every bin along the wall, Sam goes to look at the toys instead.

“Dean, what’s a whoopee cushion?”

“Oh, man, Sammy, those are great! How have you never heard of one before? You want that instead of candy?” Sam nods. Dean pays and gives Sam the fifteen cents in change since his new toy didn’t cost as much as Dean’s candy, and on the way home, he promises to show Sam exactly how it works. “You’re gonna love it, Sam. It’s gonna be hilarious.”

That night, when Dad comes home, dinner is already on the table, and both boys are sitting and waiting for him. As soon as he sits down, a loud “phtbbt” noise emanates from his chair. Sam’s eyes go wide, Dean bursts out laughing, and with a grin, Dad pulls the now-deflated red rubber bag out from underneath him.

For a month after that, no seat is safe from the wrath of the whoopee cushion. They make a rule that the prank’s latest victim takes possession of the toy, but after a while, Sam begins to suspect that Dean is sneaking it out of Dad’s luggage whenever Dad confiscates it, because he manages to prank everyone else a lot more often than he himself gets pranked. When it shows up one day with a knife slash through it, ensuring that it can never inflate again, it’s no big loss, though. Dad apologizes, saying that he accidentally stuck it in the weapons bag, but Sam notices that he doesn’t promise to replace it.

1997

It starts with a toothbrush.

Sam gets a new one from some health fair at school that Dean ditched. He could have picked up two—no one would have cared—but he didn’t even think about his brother, which annoys Dean to no end. So, every chance he gets, he uses Sam’s new toothbrush instead of his own.

It takes a week for Sam to catch on, but one morning, when Dean goes into the bathroom, Sam’s toothbrush is nowhere to be seen, and Dean’s toothbrush has been shoved bristles-first into a bar of soap. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or get pissed as he tosses the old toothbrush and the soap into the trash and uses a finger to spread toothpaste over his teeth. The little squirt has more guts than Dean had given him credit for. But Dean can’t let this challenge go unanswered.

Two days later, Sam discovers that someone put an open bottle of hand lotion from the bathroom in the bottom of his duffel, soaking all of his clean underwear in flowery-smelling goop. The next morning, Dean wakes up to find all of his clothes sitting in the bathtub, soaking wet. Sam’s toothpaste gets replaced with shaving cream; Dean’s razor turns dull overnight and all the extra blades go missing. Finally, Dean hits on the ultimate prank: he mixes Nair into Sam’s shampoo. When his brother comes out of the shower the next day screaming with rage and looking like he has a bad case of mange, Dean laughs his ass off, and gets a black eye for his trouble. Despite being a skinny little twerp, the kid can really pack a punch when he catches Dean off-guard.

The next day, Dean is bracing himself for a truly heinous act of revenge as he follows a silent and now completely bald Sam to school. The poor kid doesn’t look angry anymore, though; he just looks miserable, bundled up in a hoodie despite the near-summer heat. At lunchtime, Dean catches a couple kids harassing Sam, making fun of his bald head, and he realizes that he’s gone too far this time. It’s one thing to cause each other discomfort, but when one of their pranks makes the other a target for outsiders… Dean’s more angry at himself than the punks harassing his brother, but he takes it out on them and gets both himself and Sam suspended for a week.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Dean says that night as they’re lounging in front of the TV, eating all of Sam’s favorite foods and trying to figure out how to explain Sam’s bald head and the suspension to Dad when he comes home in a few days. “Things got a little out of hand this time, I guess. Truce?”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “You kinda made up for it by fixing it so I don’t have to go back to school for a week. Hopefully we can pass it off to Dad as a really bad haircut; you know he’s been bugging me to get one for months, anyway.” Then, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a brand new toothbrush. He tosses it to Dean, Dean grins, and in the wrestling match over the last of the gummy worms five minutes later, all is forgiven.

2000

“C’mon, Sam, lighten up! It was just a joke.”

“It’s not very funny, Dean.” Sam is sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, picking flakes of superglue off of the palm of his hand. Three days ago, Dean had caught Sam talking on the phone to Linda Hamilton, a girl he’d gone on a few dates with in the last town they’d been in, and ever since, Dean had been insufferable. It started with the offers for tips on how to give good phone sex, then boxes of tissues and bottles of lotion left out in strategic locations, and had culminated in him waking up this morning to discover that Dean had covered the palm of his right hand in hair and superglue.

“I’m telling you, Sammy, you got off lucky. I hear doing that sorta thing too often can also make you go blind.”

Sam glares at him and returns to his task. Fortunately, it’s summertime, so he doesn’t have to worry about explaining the mess on his palm to anyone at school, but he continues to give Dean the silent treatment until his brother drops him off at the library to finish researching the ghost that they’re hunting this week. Sam walks through the library’s front doors, waits until the rumble of the Impala’s engine has died away, then turns around and heads back outside. He’d discovered all he needed to know about the ghost yesterday, but hasn’t told Dean yet, partly out of anger at his brother’s harassment, but mostly because Dean hasn’t asked. As long as Dean thinks Sam is busy, Sam knows where he’ll be, and after this morning’s humiliation, he deserves everything that he has coming to him.

Sam takes his time walking across town and gets to the bar that Dean has been frequenting every day over the last week just in time to see him heading out the front door with a girl on his arm. Sam crouches behind a dumpster and watches as they get into the Impala and drive a few blocks down to the girl’s house. Once they’re inside and, presumably, preoccupied, Sam sneaks up to the car and gets to work. He disconnects the battery and moves the front seat up just far enough to keep Dean from being able to easily get into the car, then he pulls out his cellphone and places a call to the office where the girl’s father works, telling him that he needs to come home right away.

Sam is hiding in the bushes and trying not to let his laughter give him away as he watches the father storm home and chase Dean out of the house with his pants around his ankles. He’s fighting back tears of mirth as he watches Dean struggle to get behind the wheel and start to panic when the car doesn’t start, but his glee turns immediately to terror when he sees the girl’s father come out of the house with a baseball bat. He smashes both of the car’s driver-side windows, and Dean catches a nasty blow to his left shoulder as he gets out of the car to protect it before Sam manages to break cover and come running up, shouting, “Don’t hurt my brother! Please, don’t hurt my brother!”

Between Sam and the girl, they manage to drag Dean and the father apart, and placate him long enough to allow Dean and Sam to push the car out of his driveway and back down the street to the bar. Sam is shaking and barely holding back tears by the time they arrive, and he doesn’t even give Dean a chance to notice that something’s wrong before breaking down.

“Oh, god, Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He can barely stand to look at his brother, not knowing what he will see on Dean’s face.

“What are you talking about, Sammy? You saved my ass back there.”

“I… I was the one who messed with the car and called her dad. I was so mad at you for making fun of me the last few days… But I swear I didn’t know he’d get that angry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I swear.”

“You…” Sam can hear the fury in his brother’s voice, but then Dean takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, he sounds a little calmer. “What did you do to the car, Sam?”

“Just disconnected the battery,” Sam whispers, swallowing back another sob. He hears Dean pop the hood, reconnect the battery, and slam it shut again, but he doesn’t look up until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Dean says as Sam looks up at him. He looks more apologetic himself than angry, and he reaches out a hand to help Sam to his feet, which Sam takes. “One of the guys at the garage owes me a favor, so it won’t be any trouble to get the windows replaced. You wanna help me?” Sam nods.

They’re both quiet as they get in the car, but after they’ve been on the road for a few minutes, Dean breaks the silence. “I’m sorry about teasing you like I did, Sam. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but can we make a deal?”

“What’s that?”

“No more pranks that mess with the car, okay?”

“Deal.”

2006

In retrospect, the pranks they’d subjected one another to this time around were relatively tame. The last time Dean had used the itching powder trick, Sam had been in middle school, and turning up the volume on the stereo in the Impala was positively bush league compared to what he used to do before messing with the car had been declared off-limits. Supergluing Dean’s beer bottle to his hand had been a long-overdue payback, but other than that… It was the pranks that they’d pulled on the two “ghost hunters”—pretending to be a movie producer in order to send them off to California, and putting a dead fish in the back seat of their car—that had been truly inspired. And the fact that they’d come up with the ideas independently was a welcome reminder of something that he’d always known: that they were at their best when they were working together, whether the goal was stopping an invincible monster or just shaking a couple of idiots off their trail.

Sam wants to tell Dean as much, but it will probably have to wait. He doubts Dean will be particularly receptive to the message when he comes out of the bathroom and discovers that Sam has short-sheeted his bed. Of course, it’s less than he deserves for pulling the whole “shaving cream in the hand and a feather up the nose” trick on Sam last night while he was sleeping. Their truce hadn’t even managed to last the hundred miles that Dean had promised, but that’s okay. As long as they’re going with the juvenile classics, Sam can keep this up forever. He wonders if this town has a joke shop; it’s been a long time since he’s seen a whoopee cushion…

[himbowelsh]

So I’m making this anonymous only because I don’t want to feel I’m looking for too much attention, but my dog died today completely unexpectedly and I feel like shit 😰 could I pretty please request something with Easy and dogs. If this is not your forte I totally understand ☺️

Oh god, darling, I’m so sorry. Losing a pet is a pain unlike any other, almost like losing a part of yourself...  as much as you’re hurting right now, just remember your dog always knew they were loved, and loved you back just as much. You gave your pup a great life, and wherever they are now, they still love you.

If you’re looking for Easy and dogs, I have a few fics you might like:

baberoe has a dog incident

luztoye has another dog incident

bullmartin and yet another dog incident

winnix has a colorful dog incident (soulmate au!)

not a fic, but a very accurate edit of easy co as dogs

And here’s something soft and puppyish...  hopefully it makes you feel better!

Sometimes people seek out a new pet; sometimes, they have pet-parenthood thrust upon them.

In Joe Liebgott’s case, it happens literally. Someone leaves a wine box on the floor of his cab; he notices a few minutes after he drops the guy off, and he’s just doubling back to try and find him when the box starts squeaking.

Joe almost crashes the car.

As if turns out, the box’s precious cargo isn’t liquor, but...  puppies. An absurd amount of puppies. Mind you, Joe’s never owned a dog in his life, so more than two puppies seems like an absurd amount to him, and there’s gotta be, like...  six in here. Six squirming balls of fur, can’t be more than a few weeks old. Their eyes are hardly open yet. They’re climbing over each other to escape the box as soon as Joe opens it...  but everything they can’t say, the sharpie scribbled on the inside of the cardboard speaks for itself.

FREE PUPPIES, DO NOT RETURN

Which...  shit. Shit. Joe races through all the possibilities in his mind. The guy didn’t give his name, and paid in cash. He dropped him off at the airport. He could be damn anywhere right now!

And god help him if Joe has the first clue what to do with literal infant dogs.

Logic tells him, “go to the animal hospital now,” but he’s never been there in his life  ---  and aren’t those places overcrowded anyway? They’re in the middle of Santa Monica, there’ve got to be multiple animal shelters around, but god help him if he knows where any are...

Joe goes home. He panics, okay?

He has to sneak past the doorman, through the lobby, and into the elevator with a very conspicuous wine box that keeps making noises. The old lady from the fourth floor glares at him the whole ride up, and Joe can only nod his head at her while a tiny head pokes out a hole in the cardboard.

Web isn’t home, for once, because he has a lunch date with his editor; Joe almost wishes he was, because having someone else to bounce off of in this situation would be a great thing. Left to his own devices, however, he does the only thing he can think of; pulls the spare comforter out of the closet, lays it down in the empty bathtub, and dumps the pups in. After some consideration, he adds one of Web’s shark plushies, because the pups are tiny and probably missing their mother.

Their mother...  shit, they need their mom, don’t they? Pups that small can’t be without their mom, he knows he saw that on Animal Planet somewhere...

And, because Joe’s got the panic instincts of a twelve year old boy, he calls the one person who definitely knows what to do with a baby: his mom.

Mama Liebgott makes it to the apartment in twenty minutes. Ten minutes later, she’s setting up a heating pad in the puppies’ nest, while Joe scours the internet for how to care for newborn puppies. Mama calls in the troops  ---  Joe’s sisters are on their way. 

They send Joe out of the apartment with a list; when he comes back, his arms are weighed down with shopping bags, filled with formula, eyedroppers, puppy toys, and anything else little dogs could possibly need. Joe Liebgott is never one to half-ass shenanigans; he goes all-out.

Webster comes home to...  chaos.

Their bathroom has been turned into an improvised NICU, their apartment’s been sanitized and baby-proofed to high-hell, Joe’s mother and sisters are lounging around the living room with tiny bundles of something in their arms...

And in the middle of the chaos, Joe’s standing there, a blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms, bouncing it and cooing softly.

“Yeah, you’re a tough one, arencha, little buddy? Yeah...  I see it in ya. You’re a fighter. We’re gonna take good care of you, I promise...”

He has no clue what the hell is going on, but Webster melts. To the floor. Literally, his legs get a little weak.

“Uh  ---  Lieb? You wanna explain what on earth’s h---  is that a dog?”

Joe just grins. He’s never been an animal person in his life, but now he looks like he’s in heaven. “Dogs,” he declares. “We’ve got dogs, Web.”’

Webster has entered the Twilight Zone.

When they take them to the vet (Webster’s idea, because he actually has common sense), the puppies are given a clean bill of health, but as they’re definitely too young to be separated from their mother, there’s a laundry list of things that must be done to take care of them. The vet offers to take the puppies off their hands, and Webster has a brief moment of overwhelming relief, before Joe answers, “Thank you, but we got this.”

Webster drops his coffee all over the exam room floor. “We?” He demands, too shocked to form a cohesive sentence. “We?”

Joe’s eyes flash. “Fine, Web. You don’t gotta be involved, I’ll take care of ‘em myself. Found ‘em in my car, after all.”

“I live with you, asshole!”

And that’s how Webster and Liebgott become Dog Moms.

Of course Web’s going to help. He’s not a monster. He’s actually a pretty decent person, when push comes to shove...  and, once the Liebgott Crisis Team have all returned to their respective homes, he can’t bear to leave Joe to look after the babies by himself.

The worst part is, he’s not even a dog person. Suddenly, he and Joe are being kept up at all hours by a league of puppies. They’re so young that they can’t eat solid food yet, so it’s a round-the-clock task to keep them fed and looked after. 

Of course, Joe takes to the task like a diligent soldier, following every direction the vet gave them to a ‘t’. He takes a week off work, devoting himself 24/7 to the puppies’ care. It’s a lot on him. By the end of the fourth day, he’s been run ragged, dark shadows under his eyes and exhaustion knitting his brow. Web makes him some tea, settles him down on the couch, and massages his shoulders until Joe falls asleep. Then he takes on the task of feeding all six puppies by himself.

He gets peed on. Thrice.

It’s still worth it. After a few weeks, the puppies don’t need to be fed so frequently...  and they’re growing enough that there’s no more containing them in the bathtub. Joe and Web set up a puppy playpen that ends up taking up most of their living room, and set the kids loose. 

By now, the pups are old enough to wreak havoc, and starting to develop their own personalities. Shelley and Rocko have a talent for getting into everything, Byron is a biter, Goblin has no coordination and keeps tripping over his oversized feet, Fiona cries when either of them leave her alone, and Greg...  Greg is an escape artist. (Bonus points for guessing who named who. They got three pups each.)

Their house becomes a hub of curious friends and relatives. Tab and Shifty are over nearly every day to play with the pups; Joe’s youngest sister Amy keeps coming over too, and Tab won’t stop hitting on her; they wake up one morning to find Luz passed out in the Puppy Pit, tiny dogs clambering all over him, and no one knows how the hell he got in their house. Suddenly Joe and Web are the most popular guys in town.

It’s...  weird. Webster’s never been popular before. He’s not sure he likes it.

Weeks turn into months, and at some point, the pups are big enough to clamber around the apartment unaided. The vet estimates they’re twelve weeks old now, and keeping them inside is becoming a big challenge. Their building doesn’t allow dogs, for one, and they have to keep sneaking them past the concierge; potty training is becoming a living nightmare; and frankly, the dogs are getting too big to be cooped up inside all the time. Six newborn puppies is one thing, but six growing dogs...  different story.

They need to get rid of the dogs.

Thankfully, they’ve got no shortage of volunteers. Joe’s mom takes Goblin “for protection”, even if Goblin’s the clumsiest little monster that’s ever walked the face of the earth. Luz and Rocko have bonded, so he takes him home. Tab would probably adopt them all if he could, but since he can’t (Trigger is a handful already) Shifty lovingly takes on Shelley. oddly enough, Speirs has formed a special attachment to Fiona, cradling her like a baby and doting on her ever chance he gets, so he gets her. Rocko is a little evil, but he’s cute, and Nixon is a sucker for a cute face, so he gets the chaos demon.

That leaves them with Byron. Freaking Byron.

“Figures we’d get left with the one dog with the worst goddamn name  ---”

Joe has a soft spot for Byron. They both like to bite things, growl when they’re angry, and pass out in strange places, so it’s a great fit.

Letting a dog into their lives wasn’t something either of them planned on; but sometimes fate intervenes, and you never know when it will be for the better.

Cuddled up on the couch, with Joe dozing against his shoulder and Byron a heavy weight between them both, Web finds that he doesn’t regret a thing.

[loversandantiheroes]

There's a dialogue of Harvey saying that he had to perform emergency surgery on a farmer who passes out from losing all their health. If you're interested in sharing such, how do you think he would manage during and after having to do so on a farmer he loves?

I debated a lot on whether or not to answer this in depth.  As I do have a thing planned for later down the line.  But given the POV I’ve been keeping with, I think it’s safe to toss this out there.  If any of this happens to get re-purposed down the line, well, it happens.😈

Shortest answer possible: this is practically his worst nightmare.  It’s spared from top billing in that respect purely by virtue of the fact that they live.

Throwing out warnings now for blood, trauma, medical stuff, hospitals, and a lot of anxiety.  I’ve tried to keep it a little ambiguous and not too graphic, but facts is facts.  Gender-neutral farmer used for fully inclusive angst potential.

------------------------------------------

When the farmer is dragged in, his heart nearly stops cold.  There is a fraction of a second where he hopes it’s a bad dream and he’s going to wake up -

And then sees the blood dripping on the old linoleum tiles and hears the shouts of help, please, oh yoba I think they’re really hurt.

Panic hits him in a flood and he tamps it down, deeper and deeper until all that’s left is the adrenaline surge that propels him forward, scooping up the farmer and dashing into the back, rolling through doorways until he can safely lay them out on a bed.

He hears himself ask what happened.  Ticks off the answer.  They’re breathing, but unconscious, and unconscious for anything longer than a few short minutes is bad, no matter what the movies say.  He strips away clothing to find the source of the bleeding, knowing more than anything what they need right now is a real hospital with real equipment and a damn surgical team, not a pit stop clinic in the middle of nowhere and a single doctor without even an assistant.

But the closest real hospital is 40 miles away, and if this is even remotely as bad as he thinks it is, there’s no way they’ll ever make that trip if he can’t stabilize them first.

He think he tells someone to call for an ambulance.  Or maybe he only thinks about it.  The next few minutes are too important.  If he can’t stop the bleeding...

Best not to think about the ifs.

Maru is there, quite suddenly, sprinting at the sink to scrub up without even being asked.  She’s not qualified, not really.  But she’s smart, and she’s capable, and dear Yoba if he doesn’t get another set of hands on board quickly...

He gives orders in a voice that could pass for calm.  Maru’s only response is a repeated “Yes, Doctor.”  She wheels in a surgical tray.  There is the rather grim do-si-do as he has to let her apply pressure so he can scrub up himself.

Somewhere, someone shouts that the ambulance is on the way.

Thank Yoba, he thinks.  And then on the heels of that: Don’t thank them just yet.

Harvey sets to work.

***

They almost don’t let him in the ambulance.  He goes toe-to-toe with one of the EMTs, staring down at him with wild eyes and saying only, “That is my patient.  Move over.”

Reluctantly, he does.

Harvey presses himself against the sidewall, trying to make himself small.

He catches the farmers hand once.  The fingers are cool.  He squeezes, swallowing hard.

I’m here, he thinks, but does not say.  I’m right here.

It might only be his imagination, but he thinks he feels them squeeze back.

***

He spends an inordinate amount of time filling out paperwork in the waiting room.  His hands, he notices, are beginning to shake.

Maru is there, again. Still.  Followed the ambulance in her mother’s truck.  She brings them both bitter coffee from the machine in small paper cups.  When his hands begin to shake so badly he can’t hold the pen, she takes over.

“Breathe,” she says, a hand on his back.  “You’ll end up sharing a room if you’re not careful.

He lets out a dry bark that might be a laugh.  Downs the coffee.  Sets to pacing.  He rolls his shoulders.  Takes a deep breath.  It feels like there’s a vice grip around his rib cage.

Not yet, he tells himself, counting footsteps as he exhales.  I can’t crack yet.

***

He’s still pacing when the doctor calls him by name, and his legs almost tangle together as he rushes over.  He thinks he recognizes the man, something about his meticulously combed fine blond hair seems familiar.  He shakes Harvey’s hand and the first words out of his mouth are “I don’t know if you remember me, but-”

Med school.  He nods.  Can’t even attempt a pleasantry.

“Are they-”

“Stable,” the doctor says, holding his hands out.  “You did a damn fine job with triage, I can tell you that.  But they did lose quite a bit of blood on top of a couple cracked ribs and a fairly good knock on the head.  We’re setting up for a CT scan now just to be on the safe side.”

“Can I see them?”

The other man presses his lips together, biting back an automatic ‘no’, and nods hesitantly.  “There’s a little time before we can take them down.  But I should warn you, they’re not-”

“Doctor?” a nurse asks, jogging up.  “Room 124, they just woke up.”

The doctor turns to Harvey, eyebrows raised.  “I stand corrected.”

Maru pushes him forward.  “Go on.  I’ll wait here.  Drive you home.”

He nods.  Mutters thanks.  Walks.

***

The other doctor makes it in first.  Harvey waits, hands in his pockets, listening.

How do you feel?

Oh.  You know.  Not so good.

His breath catches at the sound of their voice, eyes stinging.  He counts.  And breathes.  Not yet.

Any nausea?

A little.  Hurts when I breathe.

You cracked a few ribs, that’s to be expected.

Oh.

We’re gonna get you set up for a CT, take a look at that knock you took on your head.  In the meantime there’s someone who’d like to see you.

He steps in.  The other doctor steps out, sliding the curtain across the door but not shutting it.

“Hi.”  Barely a croak.  More like the shape of a word.

Harvey’s heart trips - hard - a syncopated beat that he can feel in his teeth, and rushes over to close the distance.  He finds their hand, cradling it gently like spun glass.

“Hi.”

“Some night, huh?”  A weak, crooked smile.  There’s still a smear of blood on their teeth.  

He nods.  “Some night,” he echoes.

“Where are we?  They didn’t tell me.”

“Chestervale.  Closest hospital.”

“Oh.”  A long beat.  “That bad?”

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice cracks.  Tears crowd his eyes, blurring his vision.  “That bad.”

“Don’t cry, babe,” they whisper.  “It’s okay.”

Not yet, he tells himself again.  But it’s no use.  He drops.  Crumples.  Takes to his knees at the side of the bed and kisses their hand as he cries.  

“Please.  Don’t ever scare me like that again.  Not ever.  If you had...  I can’t- I can’t.”

There’s a soft, mumbled apology.  He can’t hardly see, but he thinks they’re crying, too.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, shaking his head.  “Just be okay.  That’s all.  Just be okay.”  He presses a kiss to their knuckles, saying a silent thanks at the feeling of warmth returning to their hand. “I love you.  So much.”

The hand he holds grips his, squeezing.  “I love you, too.”

***

He’s still crying when Maru takes him home, though it’s down to a slow trickle.  She goes in with him.  Helps him upstairs.  He blanches at the blood on the tiles, wavers.  She steers him away from it.  Takes the clinic keys with a promise to clean up the exam room and lock up and be back in the morning, knowing full well he’s going to want to head straight back to the hospital first thing.

There’s a cup of tea in his hand.

He’s really not sure if he made it or if Maru did.

“I’m going to go now,” she says slowly, a hand on his arm.  I’ll still be downstairs for a bit.  If you need anything, just shout, okay?”

He nods mechanically.  A marionette on auto-pilot.

He sits there for a time.  He doesn’t know how long exactly, save that the tea’s gone cold and undrunk in his hands.

There’s the sound of a door.  A car.  Harvey’s eyes tick towards the window and spot a work shirt draped over the chair by the window.  Faded flannel.  Not his.

Walks to it with numb feet.  Presses it to his face.  Inhales.

And finally, properly, completely breaks.

Thank you, Yoba.  Thank you thank you thank you.