#I really want a particular refer a friend skin :P

[aralyndarkwhisper]

PATH OF TITANS REFER A FRIEND!

Want to get into Path of Titans for yourself & get a sweet Kingfisher bird based Suchomimus skin (various colour combinations!) & an Allo statue for your homecave, use my referral code below!

[bratbby333]

I got some thoughts 👀 can I request a little something? like reader finds herself in a situation where a guy is disrespectful to her and Geto steps in to defend her... she would be so relieved like 'thank you so much tall and beautiful stranger' 😍🥰 and he's probably like 'don't worry about it, it's whatever' but in the end he offers to walk her home and he fucks her against the wall things happen 😳😳

`⭐︎ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ YOUR GUARDIAN STRANGER ! — feat. suguru geto

word count. 3.6k content warnings. characters are 21+, fem!reader x suguru, mentions of blood, allusions to violence, reader gets hit on and grabbed in the club, alcohol consumption, p in v, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, thigh-riding, sugu fucks hard, one night stand, the pull-out method, non-curse!au author notes. thank you for ur ingenious request my sweet nonnie...i hope you enjoy xx not beta read !!

nsfw 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 mdni

A skin-tight dress. Four inch heels. Dark lip liner with a clear gloss on top. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5, and you are out the door and heading to the club.

Everything is great; good vibes, strong drinks, pounding 808s reverberating off the walls. The liquor warms your stomach as your hips sway to the music, your over-worked body relaxing with every bump of the heavy bass. You take in the scene around you; drunk couples making out in the corner, a few underage kids getting thrown out, a group of friends arguing over god knows what– it’s all very entertaining. You laugh to yourself, your eyes scanning the room once more before your vision settles on the one thing you were trying to avoid. Shit. Your heart drops. Really? Did he not catch the hint the last two times? You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes as you prepare yourself for the inevitable. Not this again.

Because, of course, all good things must come to an end. 

You're used to being hit on. But tonight, there is one guy in particular, unrelenting in his attempts to get close to you. He's shorter than average, the two of you being the same height when you're in heels. He reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and BO. His fringe clings to his forehead as he approaches you for the third time this evening, a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. He seems to have mistaken your accidental eye contact as an invitation to test his luck once more. With tense shoulders and an apprehensive tone, you offer him polite conversation. Not that you want to, but god forbid you reject him in just the right way to make him snap. You don't want to end up being a headline. Your eyes dart elsewhere, knowing damn well that if you look at him for too long you might gag. He is truly disgusting, rambling on and on about his podcast and his most recent bouts of buying and trading crypto. 

It's a tough situation to navigate. You're out alone. Granted, you are at a club that you're comfortable in; you're familiar with the layout, you're friends with a few of the waitresses and bartenders. The DJ knows you by name. But, you're still riding solo in a loud, rambunctious environment. Even though there is a level of comfort here, it's still a club filled with drunkards at the end of the day. 

With a fake smile and a couple nods of your head, you try to ignore the part of the conversation where he referred to himself as an “alpha male” as you accept the drink he presents to you, kindly excusing yourself before disappearing into the crowd once more.

A shudder runs down your spine, your body quite literally trying to shake away that awful conversation. God, he’s the worst. On your way to the dance floor, you pour the contents of the cup into the soil of a potted plant. He doesn't think you're stupid, does he? There is no way in hell you're drinking that shit.

You're dancing alone, enjoying the house mix that's bumping through the giant speakers, the colorful spotlights that bounce around your face as you feel yourself begin to relax once more. Finally, some much needed alone time. All you want is to let loose after an arduous week of working. Can't a girl have some peace?

"C'mon...just give me a chance." You don't even have to turn around to see who it is, you can smell him. Your nose scrunches up before you turn to face him, another fake smile pulling at your cheeks as you speak to him for the fourth time tonight. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not looking for anythin'...I'm just tryna have fun," you say politely, before beginning to walk away. If you just keep moving through the crowd, he won't be able to find you again. But this guy is annoyingly determined and obnoxiously entitled, because after one step away from him, his hand grabs at your wrist, "We can have fun! C'mon...seriously?! I bought you a drink and this is how you treat me?"

As soon as the contact is made, your blood boils. Rage runs through your body as you spin around to chew him out for A, assuming some smelly asshole like him has a chance with you; B, for even thinking he could touch you, and C, the absolute nerve of this man to actually follow through with it. 

But when you turn, you realize you can't see him anymore. Your eye line is obstructed by a broad, muscular back. Utterly confused, you step to the side in order to fully see what the hell is going on. The sweaty hand that was once wrapped around your forearm is now gripped by a large fist. Your eyes trail up to your savior, a damningly handsome man with jet-black hair. 

"Do we have a problem?" a stern voice addresses the musty, shorter guy. 

"Yeah, this chick's been flirting with me all night...I'm tryna get what I'm owed," he spits back, attempting to pull his wrist away, "Dude, let go...stop bein' a cockblock." The mystery man's face twists at the other's bold choice in words. You're shocked that he doesn't feel intimidated at all. 

"What you're owed?" A deep chuckle emerges from the unknown’s chest as he stares down at him. "I dunno...it seems like she wants nothing to do with you," he muses, tightening his grip around the other’s arm. 

He turns to address you, and you finally get to take a good look at him. His side-profile is god-like, but looking at him straight on is a whole different realm of attractiveness. The man's fucking gorgeous. You're too busy ogling him that you miss his question all together. 

"S-sorry...what did you say?" You shake your head a bit, adrenaline pumping through your ears from this entire ordeal, the expensive scent of his cologne mixing with the pounding bass of the club; it's all making your head spin. 

He laughs and leans down to your level, his head hovering just next to your ear. "You want me to get rid of him for ya?" he repeats, his breath brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He pulls back, looking down at you with his grip still tight around the other guy's arm. The pathetic man is squirming as the two of you share quite the intimate eye contact. You nod, your mouth dropping open as he drags him out of the club immediately. 

You let out a deep sigh before making your way to the bathroom. You lather up your hands with soap and do your best to scrub away the feeling of that man's skin on yours. Leaning up against the sink, you take a few deep breaths before fixing your hair and reapplying your lipgloss. That man is vile, but you're not going to let that gross interaction ruin your night. 

You make your way to the bar, keeping your head on a swivel in hopes to see your handsome rescuer once more, wanting to thank him for handling that for you. You pout a bit as you fail to see him on your trek, sighing as you place your order with the bartender. 

You take a few sips before turning to walk back toward the dance floor, when you literally run straight into someone. "Fuck! I am so sorry, I-" but then you smell it, the same entrancing cologne as before. You look up and are met with a devious grin on the most angelic face you've ever seen. You smile, pushing your hair from your eyes, "I was looking for you." You sound relieved as the two of you stare at one another. 

"Were you now?" he asks coyly, shifting his weight as he smirks down at you. You nod shyly, "Mhm...I-I wanted to thank you for earlier," you take another sip of your cocktail, hoping it will calm your nerves a bit, "I appreciate you stepping in, that guy couldn't catcha fuckin' hint," you laugh, looking away. 

"Don't mention it. It's the least I could do," he responds. "I'm Suguru, by the way."

Turning to face him once more, you tell him your name with a kind smile. As the two of you make small talk, you notice his chest is heaving a bit, and with a quirk of your brow, you run your eyes down his body, realizing that his knuckles are bruised and slightly bloody.

"Oh...oh my god. Are you alright?" you ask, grabbing his hand. You bring his fist up to inspect it, the dim lights of the club not offering you much assistance. "Oh, yeah," he laughs, rotating his wrist so you can examine it further, "the blood's not mine," he grins. A laugh escapes you as you gaze up at him, still holding his hand in yours. 

"Damn...you really did a number on him, huh?" Suguru laughs at this.

"Absolutely, he deserved it. Dude was a prick. I'm really sorry that happened to you," he sympathizes, watching as you grab napkins and a shot of vodka from the bar to wipe off the dried blood from his knuckles. 

"It's alright, I'm used to it by now, but having someone step in and save me was definitely a first." He releases a jagged exhale as you pour the liquor over the small abrasions on his hand, "Sorry...gotta disinfect you. That dude was gross...I had to go scrub my arm off after he touched me," you giggle. He watches intently as you finish cleaning him up, his heart skipping a beat as you smile up at him triumphantly. You are quite the woman, cunning and confident. He likes that. 

"There ya go," you chirp, before tossing the reddened napkins into the garbage can located nearby. His eyes run across your face and up and down your body, taking in every part of you. Poor thing. Though you seem so unbothered by that whole situation, there is a telling look behind your eyes, and Suguru notes that you are still a little shaken up. He would be crazy to let you wander back out there alone. 

"Do you want to come hang with my friends? I promise they won't pester you like that dude did," he offers. He nods toward the booths that line the wall. "That's them over there; Shoko and Satoru." You follow his eye line, seeing a brunette woman accompanied by a blue-eyed man. They seem to be about your age, and you love meeting new people. You smile and agree, thanking him once more as the two of you make your way over to the table. 

The rest of your night is spent laughing and dancing with the three of them. You learn that they all work for the high school across town, and that Shoko can really handle her liquor; Satoru cannot. You and Suguru are in your own world, chatting about everything and nothing, taking breaks to dance together when a good song comes on. His hands rest on your waist as you move your hips against him, your bodies fitting like you are made for one another. Suguru, being the gentleman he is, never pushes any further than that, allowing you to initiate the contact. 

It's 2 AM when the four of you stumble out of the club, the tall blond leaning on his smaller friend's shoulders as she guides him toward the taxi. It's quite the amusing sight. 

You stop short of the curb, wishing Satoru and Shoko a good night, before turning to Suguru. "Thank you again…for everything," you say, your voice raspier than usual from all the shouting you did inside the loud club. 

"Of course. I'm just glad we got to spend some more time together," he says with a smile, ushering you toward the taxi. He's confused when you shake your head. 

"I live like three blocks from here, I'm just gonna walk," you state. "It was really nice meeting you, you were great company," you smirk, heading down the road, your heels clacking against the pavement with every step. 

A few unintelligible words are exchanged between Suguru and the taxi driver, followed by a car door slamming shut, before the sound of someone jogging catches up to you. 

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you walk home alone," he retorts, pushing you toward the inside of the sidewalk as he walks closest to the cars that pass by. 

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you," you tease, pushing your shoulder into his. He chuckles, "Can you blame me? I see a beautiful woman in distress, I have to jump in." You blush at his compliment.

"My knight in...," you pause as you run your eyes down his body, "...jeans and a black tee," you giggle. After sharing a few laughs, silence settles between the two of you as the cool air swirls around you. The occasional car passes by, but other than that, it's a quiet evening. 

You glance at Suguru through your peripherals, enjoying the way his layered hair bounces with every step he takes. His cologne, though more subtle now, still wafts toward your nose. He really is beautiful. You wonder if it'd be too bold to see if he wants to continue your evening. 

You walk toward the door to your apartment, turning to face him. It's now or never. 

"You comin'?" You ask with a raise of your brow. He chuckles as he climbs the stairs, joining you by your side, "Thought you'd never ask."

You have never been into one night stands, but something about Suguru is irresistible. Whether it's because he saved you from that creep or because he is super fucking sexy, you know you need him. Now. The two of you barely made it through the doorway as you’re pushing him up against the wall of your foyer, your lips immediately finding his.

He's taken aback by your boldness, taking a second to register his surroundings before quickly flipping the two of you around, his hands cupping either side of your face as his knee wedges between your legs. His muscular thigh is pressed directly onto your core, the pressure sending waves through your body.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bed, huh?” he husks into your ear, placing a wet kiss on the sensitive skin below, nipping and sucking at it. Soft moans echo through the hallway as Suguru finds your lips once more, your tongues battling one another. You thrust your hips, rubbing your warmth against his leg. “Eager, are we?” he teases, lifting his leg more. 

“Mmm…mhm,” you gasp as the contact intensifies. You’re already addicted to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You grind your hips harder, pressing your drenched cunt firmly against his clothed thigh, certain that he can feel your pussy throbbing against him, the tightness in your stomach intensifying. Your cheeks fluster at how quickly he’s getting you to your breaking point without even having to do anything.

He breaks the kiss, watching intently as your hips gyrate against him. “Shit…are you gonna cum?” The tone of his voice is taunting, yet laced with desire. The sight of you using him to get off has him rock hard. You blush immediately, tilting your head away from him. You nod shyly, though your hips continue their pattern. “So fuckin’ hot,” his hand wraps around your throat, your head tilting to rest against the wall. “Uh uh, don’t get shy now…look at me.” Through low lids, you meet his gaze. His lower lip is between his teeth as he glances between your face and your cunt rubbing against his thigh. With a desperate whimper, you pick up the pace. “C’mon…that’s it–cum for me,” he growls, entranced by the fluid motion of your body. You come undone just a few minutes later with a whine and a few moans of his name. Your cum soaks through your panties and a guttural moan breaks through his chest as he watches you finish. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ me already, huh?” You blush profusely, your eyes screwed tight as embarrassment courses through you.

You yelp as he flips you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, your legs parallel with your shoulders. “All that cum ‘n I wasn’t even inside you yet…” He unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing erection, “...can’t wait to see how much you cream on my cock.” You whimper at the filthy words that shamelessly fall from Suguru’s lips as he pulls your dress up and drags your panties down your legs. You aren’t much help, small pants leaving your chest as your body recovers from your unexpectedly intense orgasm.  His lips part as he teases his thick tip along your slit, lubing himself with your cum. “You ready, doll?” His head shallowly dips in and out of your needy cunt, already loving the way you stretch for him. You hum, nodding profusely as you look over your shoulder. “Mm. Mhm…p-please fuck me,” you beg. Your words feel foreign to you as you say them, unsure of where all this submissiveness was coming from. But Suguru’s effortlessly domineering aura makes you want to bend to his every whim, to please him in any way that you can. 

Inch by inch, he’s delving into you. The warmth of your dribbling cunt sucking him, the squelching sounds ricocheting through his head, the sinful moans that break through your throat–it drives him wild. He growls as your back arches, pushing him even deeper. Your ass flush against his lower abdomen, your eyes blowing wide at the damning stretch of his full length nestled deep inside you.

He stays still for a moment, allowing you time to accommodate as your gushy walls flutter around him. The pace starts slow, but Suguru’s patience wears thin, and after a few strokes he’s ramming into you, one hand wrapped around the front of your throat, the other pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he bounces you on his cock. The scratches that should be left on the tanned flesh of his toned back are being dragged down your beige walls, your breasts rubbing against the cold plaster with every rough thrust of his hips, the sensation stimulating your budding nipples. 

Every bump of his hips pushes his head into your sweet spot, his length caressing every part of you with ease. “Takin’ me so well,” he grunts as he rams into your furthest wall. You can’t suppress the cock-drunk whines that spill from you, your eyes welling with tears while delirious pleasure claws its way through your body, your tummy tightening as you clench around him. Your shoulders tense as your perch on your tiptoes, opening yourself up to take more of him–if that is even possible–praying he finds refuge within your womb. “Shit–” he hisses, his words nearly incoherent as the sound of skin against skin echoes through the hallway, “fuckin’ milkin’ me, doll.”

He releases your throat, the same hand trailing down your spine before his arm snakes around you, his nimble fingers strumming delicious circles against your throbbing clit. You cry out, eyes screwing shut as your legs shake. “Fuck…oh fuuuck–ahh! Gonna…’m gonna…” Your voice trails off, any semblance of a coherent thought cast to the wayside as a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. Suguru leans down, kissing behind your ear before biting at your lobe. “I know,” he muses, his fingers work even faster against you, “Squeezin’ me s’tight…”, his hips shifting to push himself even deeper, “...C’mon. Make a mess ‘f me.” You reach your breaking point once more, lips parting as squirt spills out around his cock and dribbles down your thighs. 

His release follows suit with a few raspy swears and sultry mumbles of your name. He pulls out, working his fist around his cock, his hot seed shooting onto your ass and lower back. Suguru places soft pecks along your neck and shoulders, working to regain his breath. He catches you as he untangles his body from yours, chuckling at the evident exhaustion of your body while your knees buckle, unable to support your own body weight as you lean against the wall. 

After tucking himself away and a speedy rebuckle of his belt, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your bed, setting you down on your plush duvet. 

“Bathroom?” he asks. Your brows furrow before you comprehend his question, still dazed from the spell he cast on you. With a weak flick of your wrist, you gesture toward the closed door to your left. You watch with tired eyes as he returns with a damp rag, his soft touches along your weary body juxtaposing the meanness of his strokes as he mindfully cleans you up. With a quick kiss on your cheek and a soft mumble of “you were wonderful” into your ear, he smiles down at you before beginning to exit the bedroom. It’s crazy–insane, even–how much you want him around. You must be out of your mind…this near stranger—the fact that you even let him in your house is wild, let alone asking him to stay the night? But you want him to, so bad. There’s just something about him.

You sit upright, ignoring the ache in your lower back and the morality of your choices, your question flying from your lips before your brain can stop it. “Wait…can you stay?” Your words are soft as they drift through the air. He stops just short of the door, before turning and offering you a knowing smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”

author notes. certified sugu glazer…what can i say. i just cannot get enough of him ugh.

i’m still workin thru all my requests, i appreciate yalls patience w me 🤍

my reqs are closed atm, but thirsts + chats are welcome! come say hello ☺️

tag list: @admirxation @sadmonke @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @call-memissbrightside (lmk if u want to be removed from tags🤍)

©bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[helifreds]

Per l'ask game! (Ci sono davvero tante opzioni XD)

9, 18, 20, 23, 26 e 29

Thank you for the asks!💛

9. What calms you down?

The sea, watching the light gleaming upon the surface and hearing the sound that the water makes, it's so paceful

And stare at the clouds in the sky. See how they're constantly moving, figuring what kind of wind there's up there - this is a particular I really love but it feels like everyone else never notice this or simply don't care... idk but I find it sad, that's probably why it's so calming to me, thinking that it's something that only few people actually see

18. Do you still love stuffed animals?

ABSOLUTELY YES. I love them. They always have been special to me. I know it's not an animal lol but I had this peluche-chopper when I was little which I loved more than everyone else, I'd rather sleep outside the bed for let him (yes, 'him', he's a living creature to me and I don't wanna reference to him by 'it') stay under the covers... and well I still go along with that idea :')

20. What do you want most in the world right now?

Start my CPL (H) course... so for correlation... money :/

I know it can sound very superficial or foolish, but really, in my life I never felt such spiritual dedition for something... and now that I understod what's my way I'm doing all the possible to follow it

Anyway even if it's the biggest thing on my mind right now I'm immensaly thankful for all what I got in this last year, cause I found this little incredile A-team fandom and made new exaordinary friends and well by now on this side I don't need anything else

23. Favorite piece of clothing?

Mmmhh... can't choose only one, but these four are absolutely my favorites: a black t-shirt that has this logo of my grandfather's truck society, a couple of socks with red and blue lobsters that a friend gave me, my 'second skin' blue jacket XD and the last arrived (but already most loved) light blue shirt "I'd rather be flying"💗

26. What movie would you want to live in?

I kinda live in this idea of a past that never actually existed :P so I'd say a mix between these three movies cause I love them and they make me nostalgic as death: The Walk, Cars and Forrest Gump

29. Morning, afternoon or night?

Ah, this is a hard one👀 I'm a spring/summer person, so I'll consider these periods... anyway I think it depends on what I have to do... like, for flying I'd say mid-morning cause there's this bright light that illuminate everything which is gorgeous... but I also like waking up soon for see the sunrise and the way all the colors change... and still I have this picture in my mind of a field in this nocturnal countryside, with the moon slightly illuminating it and this soft wind moving the stems...

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 6]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; oral(female receiving), jihoon’s breeding kink returns, and angst hrhhkjfhk this is a bit of a filler chapter for the next chapter so sorry its a bit shorter! 🥴🥺💕 i love u

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - x - x - x - x

When you wake up the next morning, there’s an obvious soreness that you feel between your legs.

But what you also feel is Jihoon under the sheets, cheek nuzzling against your thigh as his fingertips move towards the edge of your panties.

“Ji--Jihoon…?” Your voice is laced with sleepiness as you sit up on your elbows, watching his form shifting around underneath the bed sheets. “Wh--what are you doing?”

“Mm...nothin’...” His fingers tease around the hem of your panties as a spike of arousal shoots through your body. “Jihoon this… doesn’t seem like nothing.” There’s a soft chuckle before he sits up, taking the sheets with him as he becomes visible to your eyes. His hair is sticking out in every direction as he smiles at you.

“I just wanted to… treat you a ‘lil bit, is all.” There’s a blush on your cheeks when he leans back down, spreading your legs ever so slightly before he repositions himself back to where he was. “I think I was too rough on you last night.”

“Um.. I mean…”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” No, quite the opposite actually. He looks up at you before his eyes travel all over your body to see the marks he left; lips pouting as his brows furrow in concern. “I really didn’t mean to, it’s just, it’s probably just an instinct thing? Snakes don’t really have mates or anything but since you’re technically my owner, I probably---”

“Jihoon, stop! Don’t… use that term. I don’t like it. I don’t want you to think of me like that, okay? We’re equals in this house so… you don’t need to refer to me as your owner.” He nods shyly, a complete 180 of himself from the night previous.

“I dunno, I’m sorry, I’m just… I’ve never been possessive like that, I think, but I didn’t like it when you smelled like Chan and I think I just…” Jihoon trails off, too shy to meet your glance this time. “You’re not mad about it are you?”

“Jihoon, no.. Although, I will ask, are you gonna be like that every time another hybrid is around?”

There’s a visible clench in his jaw as he leans closer to your clothed mound, tongue peeking out as he presses his tongue against you through the material of your panties. A shiver runs up your spine when he does, body still sensitive from last night. “I don’t know. Are you trying to find out?” His voice is muffled against you; immediately going back to licking at you over your panties until it sticks to you like a second skin.

You let him do what he wants, laying back down as you spread your legs for him on your own. You relax into his touch, soft sleepy moans leaving your lips as you watch him through heavy lids. His tongue presses into you clit, the material of your panties adding extra friction as you exhale shakily. “Jihoon…”

He stops for a moment, eyes glancing up at you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah just… I’m still really sensitive…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no…” Jihoon’s fingers caress your thighs, lips flitting over your skin as he kisses a love bite he’d left behind. “I’ll do all the work. Just want you to cum for me.”

Jihoon makes you feel warm and fuzzy, hands soft against your skin as he continues to lick you through the soaked material. He’s in no rush, building up your arousal as slowly as he can as you tangle your own hands into the sheets under you. And you can’t tell if your body is just that sensitive but you already feel so breathless; hips raising off the sheets slightly to grind against his tongue.

“Jihoon… Jihoon…” He hums against you, the vibrations making you shiver. You can feel yourself already close to cumming and all he’d done was lick you through your panties. “I… ah..” A sob rolls off your tongue in the next minute, toes curling against the sheets as you cum. You can feel your entire body shaking; Jihoon’s hands keeping you grounded as he works you through your high.

When he feels your body finally start to relax, he sits up, flashing you a smile before he shuffles to the spot next to you.

“Let’s sleep a little longer and then we can have breakfast?”

Breakfast actually means lunch at 1PM and he follows up the meal with another session on the sofa.

“Ngh, J--Jihoon…” You ride him reverse cowgirl on the sofa, his hands caressing your waist this time as you lift yourself up and down on his lap. “How d-do you have so much stamina!?” Your legs are already tired but he helps you out, thrusting up into you as you moan and clench around his cock.

“I, hah, haven’t been with anyone for a while… Guess we’re really c-compatible… Your body was made for me...”

He’d mentioned to you before that it’d been a while and you had to admit, you were kind of curious about his previous partners. He had never even asked you about yours, now that you thought about it.

“Fuck! Ah, t-there, Jihoon!” His cock hits your g-spot over and over, whines spilling from your mouth as you try to brace yourself on his thighs. You opt to grind down onto him instead when you get tired, swiveling your hips against him. “Ngh, fu--fuck, I’m so close… Can I cum inside of you again? Fuck, p-please, I need to!”

You nod feverishly, tentatively bringing a hand to your clit as you begin to draw circles around the nub. He starts to thrust up into you again, your body bouncing on top of him as his thrusts become erratic.  

“Sh--shit, your pussy is sucking me in deeper, fuck! Gonna fill you up with my cum and breed you so fuckin’ good, you’ll be begging me for more...”

“Y-yes, pl--please cum inside of me!”

Jihoon sits up a bit more, his chest meeting your back as he holds you down onto his cock in an iron grip; kissing your shoulder as he unloads his cum inside of your pussy. You rub quicker circles around your clit, his cum filling you up spurring your own orgasm as you cum with him. Tiny whines of his name spill from your lips as he trails kisses all along your shoulders.

You slump against him; cum already trickling down onto the sofa underneath the two of you even though he was still snug between your walls. “Mmh… Jihoon we need to c-clean this up…” He can’t help but laugh tiredly, wrapping an arm around your waist as he holds your warm body against his own.

“How are we gonna do that? The second we get up, there’s gonna be cum everywhere.”

“Maybe if you didn’t cum so much!”

“I told you that’s not my fault!” He whines cutely, pouting behind you as you try to get up without making a mess. He lets you, watching as you slowly stand. You’re careful getting up from his lap, already aware that there’s going to be stains on the sofa.

Jihoon watches the cum drip down your thighs, biting the inside of his cheek. It definitely must be a hybrid thing, he thinks. There’s an inherent desire to push it all back into your pussy but he refrains; fingers twitching against the sofa as he watches you shuffle towards the restroom to get cleaned up. He figures he should get dressed and clean up a bit while you assess yourself, tugging his oversized sweater back on as he searches for his joggers that he’d shucked off.

And when you re-enter the living room, you’re dressed in a different set of clothing, watching as Jihoon tries to get the cum out of the sofa material.

“Honestly, I don’t know if that’ll ever come out.” There’s an exasperated sigh on your end as you pick up your discarded clothes, setting them into a pile on the coffee table to deal with later. “I mean, as long as it’s not obvious to the eye, I guess it’s okay?” Jihoon nods at your words, tossing the rag he was using into the pile of clothes on the table.

“Can we cuddle now?”

You nod, letting him lay down before you join him, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he spoons you from behind. Some music program plays on the TV in front of you but your mind is on the same question that ran through your head earlier.

“Hey Jihoon?”

“Mm?”

“I was just curious… about… about your partners before you ended up at ‘Cheol’s place? Or even after?” His body goes rigid for a second before he relaxes against you. He knew eventually you’d ask for details, especially since the two of you had gotten intimate already.

“Um, well, if you’re wondering about relationships, I’ve never really had one. I’m sure hyung’s told you that I… was, um, living in the streets before he helped me.” Your jaw clenches just hearing him say it again but you let him continue. “But that being said, uh, I mean… I’ve technically been with other women.. It’s just, y’kno, been physical. I’m pretty sure hybrids have it in their blood to want to mate, y’know?” You nod slowly, a blush forming on your cheeks at the word ‘mate’.

“But I mean, after I ended up at hyung’s place and got homed and re-homed a bunch of times, I never… was with anyone. I didn’t feel comfortable. Most of them just thought of me as a prize piece and nothing more. I was just a show animal to them. Snake hybrids are technically considered really rare, but I dunno, if you look at me, I don’t seem that special. Maybe they thought I’d wake up one day and be different.”

There’s a particular sadness in Jihoon’s voice that has you turning in his hold, your concerned eyes meeting his in an instant. “Jihoon…”

“It really sucked. I mean, some of my owners and some of their friends tried to come onto me but that was usually when I’d go running back to my designated room. And then I’d ball up in there all day until they’d get mad and tell me to leave. But Seungcheol-hyung always welcomed me back, so I guess in the end it was okay.”

You nuzzle your face into his clothed chest, urging your tears down as you listen to him speak. “This is the longest I’ve been somewhere that wasn’t at the adoption home and to be honest, it’s kind of weird for me. But a good weird? I dunno, maybe I’m just confused.” There’s a chuckle at the end of his words, his arm that’s wrapped around your waist tugging you in closer. “It’s a good confused though, I guess.”

“Mm… Thank you for sharing with me Jihoon. It means a lot… And to me, you’re really special, y’know?” You pull away from him a bit, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. There’s a serene smile on his lips when you lean closer, pecking him on the mouth before you lay your head back down.

“How about you? Were you in a relationship before you met me at hyung’s?” This time your throat feels a little dry. You hadn’t spoken about Soonyoung since your talk with Minghao, and it had been even longer before then that you’d mentioned your ex.

“Technically yes and no. I was dating someone for a--a while before I met you. I think by the time I’d met you, I was already out of the relationship for, like, 2 months?”

“Oh… what happened?” You sigh, playing with the material of Jihoon’s sweater. “It’s a long story but… to make it short, he was working in the entertainment business while I was working with ‘Hao at the magazine company. And in theory, you’d think we would be a great couple, right? Because we were both ‘in the business’.” You draw air quotations with a hand to emphasize your point. “But it was just… It didn’t really work out for us, I guess. I was working from home then too and he was always out and about. He stayed here a lot then too, I don’t know if you’ve ever picked up on it. I mean it wasn’t much since he was busy but...yeah.”

Jihoon tells you he picked up on it a few times but it had been too faint for him to bring it up previously. “Yeah, makes sense. He… I mean, we used to share the bed so…” You clear your throat, not wanting to finish that sentence. “But anyway, when we broke up, we both did it amicably. We just knew it wasn’t the right time to be in a relationship with how different our lives were.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“No… honestly, I haven’t even spoken about him in a long while. And we both agreed that it would be best to not talk to each other for some time… Just to give each other enough time to heal and move on before we could reconnect later or something.”

“Do you want him back in your life?” You peer up at Jihoon, seeing the slight fear pooling behind his eyes.

“I… I think I can do without.”

The two of you lay in each other’s arms for a while; neither of you speaking any further and just enjoying each other’s company.

 But after a while, Jihoon decides he wants to go work on some music in his work room, again telling you to call him once you get started on dinner. You let him go, deciding to get some work and chores done around the place while the sun was still out.And in that time, you end up finishing another article draft and three loads of laundry.

You stretch, looking around the now cleaned room. The sky is dark by now and to your surprise, rain patters against the window as a cold shiver runs through your body. You look down the hallway, wondering what Jihoon was up to.

Jihoon more often than not worked on music while you did your own work in the living room. But there were days when he definitely seemed to need his alone time, holing up in his workroom for more than a couple hours as he came up with new melodies and lyrics. You generally didn’t mind it either, as the space gave you time to focus on your work instead of watching the cute snake-hybrid pout and peek his tongue out when he came up with new ideas for his music.

You start down the hallway, knocking on the door once you reach it. There’s no reply, so you let yourself in, a cold breeze hitting you almost immediately when you step in.

There’s a moment of panic when you notice that none of Jihoon’s heaters or humidifiers are on and you spot Jihoon laying on the bed still inside of the room. You waste no time in sprinting towards him, checking if he’s okay.

His chest rises and falls so you know he’s still breathing, but his hands are cold to the touch, even more-so than they should be. You check his forehead, noticing his entire body seems to be much colder than usual.

“Jihoon!? Jihoon!!” You slightly urge him awake, his eyes unfocused as he tries to look at you. His teeth are slightly chattering, a whine escaping his lips as he leans into your warmth.

“P-please c--call Seungcheol--h--hyung…”

[rosartemis]

Your Phenomenal Dramaturgy DSMP Animatic

Was gonna post a YouTube comment, but then I realized I didn’t want to get eviscerated by the dsmp fandom for having a different opinion, so submitting my interpretation of the lyrics/animatic in regards to c!Dream here instead :P

“But I don’t know a thing, love or losing, see?” I believe references how before Wilbur and L'manburg these kinds of conflicts/wars were never a thing on the server and Dream had no idea how he should deal with it. “So I threw to the side any human in me.” Implies Dream believed he had to make harsh choices to end the conflict, he couldn’t be soft, “No mercy” right? “If I live a lie of shallow words and empty replies, then what am I?” implying Dream keeps his word, but the people of L'Manburg don’t. It’s framed as a response from Dream to Wilbur during the declaration of independence, and makes sense if you consider the fact that Wilbur was scamming everyone out of their own potions supplies and made L'Manburg in part as an excuse to get away with it when the other members of the server got mad (Dream was uninvolved at this point, but he likely heard about it from Sapnap, who was one of the people that had confronted Wilbur and Tommy about their theft). “Then it stuck in my head, gotta run away” Dream and Sapnap getting carried away with burning down the forest surrounding L'manburg. “Playing out like a scene, posing every lead Near the end of the show, waiting in the wing, see?” Not sure about the first line, aside from referencing how everything’s a play and Dream’s the lead actor, but the second line refers to Eret’s role as the hidden traitor “Waiting in the wings”. “Run to front stage, you’re all actors anyway, no one to watch, You’re all part of the play” Dream having to make tough decisions as the de facto leader of the Greater Dream SMP faction during war. He’s planning out strategies with George and Sapnap, but the map turns into a chess game and he hates how he has to consider using them like pawns in the game to win this war. “There’s no one inside me There’s no one that’s hiding Always been me, empty, a body but nobody here to see” Montage of Dream prepping for the battle, there’s a scene in which he’s stepping into an argument between George and Sapnap. He’s steeling himself for the battle ahead. From a meta standpoint, these are all the scenes we as viewers never got to see, but they still happened, and it was still Dream who had done all this for his faction. “And knowing that those eyes are watching…” From the animatic implies that Dream seems to think things aren’t quite over yet, so he’s keeping an eye on things. “Til before we could see, we were monsters in skin ” Dream and his relationship with being called a monster/tyrant/villain continuously by the other members of the server, in particular those that are a part of L'Manburg. Could also be how he hadn’t noticed himself slipping into that role until far too late. “But even if I had tried to move on, why can’t I leave my past?” Same as above, but this time with the bonus of Pogtopia Wilbur manipulating him and convincing him he’ll be nothing more than a tyrant, a villain despite his clear attempts to amend that opinion of him and change by siding with Tommy (and Wilbur), who he thought were the “good guys”. ““Considering it’s you, better give up soon” “Cuz no matter what you do, you will always lose”” Dream talking in reference to Tommy and Wilbur (?). “And then I was alone way before I knew Blocking every little thought that I couldn’t sit through” George leaving the conflict (and Dream) alone to build his own thing. Dream realizing he’s alone/his friends don’t seem to care about him as much as he does them, and trying not to think about it. “All they want now is safety from what’s around Waiting for help but never learning how” Dream constantly covering for George and Sapnap during conflicts they got themselves into without asking for anything in return, and George and Sapnap never learning how to stop causing conflicts/resolve them by themselves. (taking advantage of Dream’s help) “I don’t wanna think now” Doesn’t want to remember the good times he’s had with everyone/his friends. Him swiping away the pieces like he wants to stop this stupid game of chess. “I’ll play dumb anyhow” Reference to Dream losing his godly powers because of the exorcism and being split into 2 (as explained by creator of the animatic) and pretending everything was fine afterwards. “Always been me, empty, a body but nobody here to see” Realization he’s lost his powers and can’t rely on XD to help resolve the Manberg/Pogtopia conflict. Here his mask goes from covering the top of half of his face to covering his entire face, a “loss of humanity”/“empty” (from a circle to being fully molded onto his face covering), and is also when the strings motif starts. Trading chessboards for puppet strings. Very obviously, you can see him slipping and his mental state deteriorating. “So standing at the front line and maybe this time I’ll be there with a flag high” Reference to the Manburg shield hinting at his allegiance and how he’s leading the Manburg “army” during the battle. “Outmatched but easygoing "Never gonna need a script with me”“ Dream surrendering and playing along with their expectations (Pogtopia winning against Manberg). "Oh you too yes yes so take a deep breath "Swear that you’ll see me again” One chance is all I have now And so I better make it count Climatic ending, come see The final act, I’m shaken to my knees" Speaking to Tommy about meeting him for the final confrontation, Tommy realizing this is his chance to take down Dream for good, “climatic ending” the finale Dream’s planned out for them. Dream is determined to see things through to the bitter end. “Yet crying and lonely” But what has he lost to get to this point? (also the juxtaposition of Doomsday Dream with his armor and cloak staring at the sunset atop his obsidian grid, framed by destruction being swapped out for an image of the old Dream, still with strings tied to his hands, but staring up at the softer night sky being framed by trees, is just, so good) “The world that I locked out is nowhere to find The people who mocked me are gone from my sight Emotions and feelings are useless to keep The tears that had fallen were not mine to weep” Hardening his heart against George/the rest of his friends (who later in turn abandoned him/left him), beating down those who had wronged him in the past, letting go of Spirit and the attachment associated with them so they’ll never be used against him again (representing him cutting off the rest of his attachments to do the same thing) despite it being very obviously painful and hurting to do so. (choosing to let go, but finding that doing so hurts anyways. Crying for something you think you shouldn’t cry for.) “The kindness and warmth, I can’t feel them at all The hands that are offered, I’m scared that I’ll fall The hole dug inside me can’t hold any love Instead, you can see me break down from above” Unable or unwilling to form healthy emotional attachments/connections with other people. He’s scared that if he does he’ll just be hurt again, and so he pushes them away, even those who’d offer him their help. He’s lost so much that he’s grown emotionally repressed (his past as Cornelius and how he lost his entire family in a week) and has trouble feeling things like “love”, and starts collapsing under the lose. (his mental health spiraling hard) “Hey, remember when you saw that they were nearing their end? And you looked like you were laughing at the pain they were in But what did you see? Oh really what could it be Well, take a breath ‘cuz you’ll need it, so c’mon saying” Something more happening with Dream behind the front of “big bad villain” that he puts on for the rest of the server, what was he really feeling? What was he really planning? We don’t know. “We’re pulling at the boundary, unseen A curtain dyed in black soon came to be And knowing that those eyes are watching…” The end of a season/the “show”, Dream’s put in prison and the curtains appear to be closing, but there’s still some loose ends that haven’t been tied with the other characters, and Dream’s presence can still be felt all around the server despite him being locked up in a literal torture box with no real power (power that could get him out of said torture box). (also, just loved how you incorporated the chorus! I’ve known about Dramaturgy for a long time but hadn’t realized how well the lyrics just fit with the DSMP plotline XD)

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

Wow, thanks for such a detailed response to my animatic :D I’m really glad you enjoyed it enough to type so much out!

I really like your interpretation, you basically got most of the things I was going for. While I yearn to type out something longer, I don’t really want to tell people how to interpret something lol

Thanks again <3

[ethereal-not-occult]

patience and the mulberry

"With time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown."

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Character(s) of Color, Sericulture, silkworms, past religious trauma, but nothing bad happens in this fic I promise, mixed bookverse w/ TV elements, references to Chinese culture Notes: Originally written for the @goodomensfashionzine​ !

“I'll only be a minute, dear.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley's cheek as he opened the door of the Bentley. “You don't have to see me to the door if you don't want to.”

Crowley tightened his grip on the wheel. “Sure, angel. Sounds good to me.” The sibilants slid far too quickly past his clenched jaw, and he bit his tongue to stop the instinctive hiss from escaping.

Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic look, but shut the Bentley's door behind him and soon disappeared through the doors of the church. Once he was out of sight, Crowley slumped forward slightly, sliding his sunglasses up and rubbing at his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he felt composed enough to exit the Bentley himself in blatant disregard for the “NO PARKING” sign on the curb.¹

[¹ Given his new job position (or lack thereof), lawbreaking was no longer a necessity, but old habits die hard.]

The bright afternoon sun made him wince a bit, and two robins in a nearby bush were getting frisky in a way he would never be able to unhear, but they made it easier to forget the distant wail of air sirens. Even standing out on the road, Crowley's skin prickled faintly with the remembered sting of consecrated ground.

He pushed the feeling aside and walked resolutely forward. Aziraphale was bound to take his sweet time as he mooned over the church's dusty old tomes, but Crowley had his own investigations to conduct while he waited. No rest for the wicked and all that.

The concrete pavement under his snakeskin shoes gave way to grass, and the tingling sensation in his soles faded. Soon he found himself at his intended destination—an Edenic grove of mulberry trees, clustered together in a ring in the church's backyard. He'd spotted them on the drive over and couldn't resist the temptation of a closer look.

Crowley wandered into the garden with a scrutinizing eye. They were young, for trees, but growing well despite their callowness. A particularly stocky sapling hardly flinched when Crowley gave it a token glare, much to his disappointment. Then again, outdoor plants were rarely as well-behaved as properly cowed houseplants. It seemed this attitude persisted even in ecclesiastic gardens such as these.

He cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, then reached a hand up into the tree's umbrella-like branches and tugged. The season wasn't quite right for fruits, but he still withdrew clutching a handful of dark ripe mulberries. Hardly apples, but his lips twitched upwards nonetheless. He plucked a berry from the pile and raised it to his lips.

“Zaoshang hao!”

Only a hasty miracle saved Crowley from choking as he jumped and swiveled around. Hovering right outside the churchyard was a middle-aged human, well-dressed and smiling pleasantly at him. Judging by her formal clothing and the Bible she carried, she was a part of the congregation, maybe even the priest herself. Crowley swallowed and stepped backwards.

“Ni shi jiaohui de xinshou ma?” the human called again, picking her way across the dewy grass in his direction. Crowley eyed the Bible she held, willing himself not to break out into hives.

“Um. Wo bu—er, no. I'm not new. Not here for church at all, actually.” He fidgeted and clasped his hands, still full of pilfered mulberries, behind his back. “Just waiting for someone.”

The human raised an eyebrow. “You're welcome to wait inside, if you like,” she said, also switching to English. “I reckon we still have biscuits left from the children's morning service—”

“No!” Crowley said too quickly, and perhaps too sharply. He winced. “I mean. That won't be necessary. I'd much rather stay out here, if it isn't too much trouble.”

The human gave him a Look. Crowley's cheeks heated and he averted his eyes, willing his sunglasses a few shades darker.

“Beautiful, aren't they?”

Crowley's head shot back up. The human had turned her back to him and was running a hand through the glossy green leaves of the nearest mulberry tree. Crowley could practically see the branches stretch out in delight beneath her touch, like a purring cat.

“Volunteers from our congregation take care of them,” the human continued, smiling at the young tree. “The kids here like raising silkworms, you see, and we welcome them to pick leaves from the trees each week to feed them.”

Silkworms. Of course. Despite himself, a hazy memory rose to the forefront of his mind: Sichuan, China, several hundreds of years ago. A family farm, weathered and cozy and oozing enough sheer goodness to make the average demon ill with it. Crowley wouldn't normally be caught dead in such a place, but he had owed a favour to the angel. His fingers twitched at the phantom memory of butter-soft silk fibres against his skin; long, winding threads that stretched out thin and fine, tangling so easily around his uncertain fingers. With this memory came the golden, moon-round face of a child he hadn't thought about in centuries, grinning toothily as they held out a box to him, a box filled with small pale larvae that wriggled among the spade-shaped leaves. “Zhe jiao can.”

Crowley forced himself to return to the present. The human was speaking to him.

“—waiting on Mr. Fell?” she asked.

Crowley blinked. Shook himself a little. “Yeah. He's helping out with the restoration of some old manuscript or other.”

The human smiled again. It was an unnervingly piercing expression. “I'm aware. I was the one who requested his help. Such a lovely man. Are you a friend of his?”

Crowley tensed. “His husband, actually.”

He braced himself, but the human only brightened. “Goodness, then you must be Mr. Crowley! Mr. Fell talks ever so much about you. Finally gone and tied the knot then, have you?”

Before Crowley could stammer out a reply, something dinged loudly, making him jump. The human pulled a phone out from her pocket and squinted at the screen.

“Sorry, I have to run back inside. But it was lovely meeting you, Mr. Crowley.” She stuck out a hand—thankfully not the one that had been holding the Bible—and after a brief hesitation, Crowley shook it. As quickly as she had arrived, the human disappeared from the garden, leaving Crowley alone and off-kilter amid a grove of mulberry trees.

---

Aziraphale emerged from the church around an hour later to find Crowley seated on the curb next to the Bentley, basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun as he scrolled through his phone.

“My dear,” the angel sighed. His joints creaked as he eased himself down to sit next to Crowley on the roadside. “Don't tell me you've been sitting here the entire time.”

“Nope,” Crowley said, popping the ‘p’. “I toured the gardens for a bit. Swiped some fruits, too. The mulberries aren’t half-bad, for a bunch of church plants, but they’ll need a good deal more threatening before they're really up to snuff.”

Crowley stopped when he saw Aziraphale chewing his lip, brow furrowed as he studied Crowley's face. Now it was Crowley's turn to sigh.

“Really, angel. It's fine. I was hardly bored.”

The expression didn't leave Aziraphale's face. A soft brown hand reached out and brushed aside stray wisps of hair from Crowley's forehead. The demon hadn't bothered to cut it since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and it was growing longer and more unruly by the day.

“I'm fine.” Crowley caught Aziraphale's hand and held it, carefully. He pressed his lips against the well-manicured fingers. “It was years ago, angel, and we both came out of it all right. You don't need to worry about me.”

Aziraphale still looked vaguely distressed as Crowley drew him close. With the sun setting behind him, framing his face and curly dark hair in a golden halo, he was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen.

He kissed him then, right there on the road, in full sight of the church and probably Someone Else, too, if She happened to be watching at that particular moment. Once, he would've been terrified of such a public display, but he hadn't gone through hellfire and holy water to care anymore about what others thought of them.

As he helped Aziraphale into the Bentley, he noticed abruptly that the angel was carrying what appeared to be a shoebox, of all things, along with his usual camelhair coat.

“What on Earth is that?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale carefully pushed the box over to Crowley. “Mrs. Lao gave it to me once I'd finished with those manuscripts. She said it was a gift for you, actually. Have the two of you met before?”

Crowley stared down at the box, baffled. “We talked for a bit in the gardens just now, but I can’t imagine why…”

He trailed off, and his mouth dropped open as Aziraphale eased open the lid and beheld the contents with a raised eyebrow.

“Good heavens. Are those caterpillars?”

“Silkworms,” Crowley corrected automatically, leaning in for a closer look. There were so many of them, somehow both smaller and larger than he remembered, all white and wiggly and chomping away busily at the layers of mulberry leaves filling their box. None of them paid any attention whatsoever to their occult observers hovering above them.

“Why would she give you such a thing? Not that they aren't dear little creatures,” Aziraphale added hastily, glancing into the box, “but I doubt I have the means to keep them in the bookshop.”

“No need,” Crowley said before he could stop himself. “I can raise 'em in my flat.”

Aziraphale gave him a curious look. “You know how to care for these… insects?”

“Yeah.” Crowley gently shut the lid of the inhabited shoebox and curled a hand around the Bentley's stick-shift. “I've done something like this, before. I know what I'm doing.”

“If you say so.” Suddenly Aziraphale chuckled. At Crowley's affronted look, he demurred, “I'm not making fun, my dear. It's only that you still manage to surprise me, even after all these years.”

Aziraphale leaned in and pecked Crowley's cheek, making him blush red and sputter. Much to his disgruntlement, the Bentley chirped a light-hearted rendition of Haydn's Crazy Little Thing Called Love all the way home.

---

Crowley had spent the past eleven years co-parenting the Antichrist with Aziraphale.² They had faced this challenge head-on, and in his opinion, it hadn’t gone too shabbily. Now, without the threat of the Apocalypse hanging over his head, becoming a surrogate parent was far less daunting the second time around.

[² Even if young Warlock hadn't really been the son of Satan, it was the principle of the thing.]

Still, Crowley worried. He had always been something of a worrier, and that hadn't changed even after the First Day of the Rest of Their Lives.

After dropping off Aziraphale at the bookshop, Crowley returned to his flat, where he commenced the preparations for introducing his unexpected twenty-odd guests to their new home. This was accomplished by miracling up a small glass aquarium onto his desk, lining the bottom with paper towels, and carefully (read: nervously) placing the silkworms one by one into the tank. Once this was done, Crowley scattered the half-eaten mulberry leaves from the box around the aquarium. The silkworms set upon their interrupted lunch with all the enthusiasm of Aziraphale devouring a meringue pie at the Ritz.

Crowley slumped into his chair, took off his sunglasses with a wince, and rested his chin on his desk, staring into the glass tank.

“I raised your ancestors once, you know,” Crowley informed the wriggling creatures. “Tiny farm in China several centuries back. We'd weave branches together into a tray and let you loose inside. Bit like how manmade beehives work, or something.”

Crowley paused. Watched one silkworm slowly inch its way across a stem to tackle a new section of leaf. “‘Course, humans use wire mesh nowadays, but the general premise is the same. Always thought it was bloody clever, what humans could come up with. If you gave me a bunch of moth larvae and told me to make a living out of them, I definitely wouldn't think to make clothes.” He snorted. “Whoever came up with that, I'd like a glass of whatever they were drinking.”

The silkworms munched on. They ate much faster than they crawled, that was certain. In the quiet walls of his flat, away from prying human eyes, Crowley loosened the knot of his silk tie and tugged it off, easing the tightness around his neck.

“You're the ones who made this, in a sense,” he said, waving the tie at them. He laid the tie beside one glass wall of the tank at just the right angle for the inhabitants within to see. Several silkworms looked up curiously.

Crowley tossed his suit jacket aside, then unbuttoned his shirt collar. He had always prided himself on his sharp, modern attire over the years, the better to tempt humans with—or so he claimed. Despite repeated scoldings from his superiors, his Lust quotas had never been quite up to par.

Sufficiently dishevelled, and feeling all the freer for it, Crowley sank back into his chair to watch the silkworms.

“The only thing I didn't like about the process was the boiling,” he murmured. “Logically, I can see why it was done. And you would all be in cocoons, so it's not like you'd be in any pain. Not like I was.” He exhaled, the sound becoming a low hiss. “But still. Never liked it. Always felt like an awful lot of trouble just for the sake of some silk threads.”

One particularly adventurous silkworm had nosed its way upwards and was now creeping over the edge of the tank opening. Crowley made a mental note to devise a lid of some kind and stuck his finger against the lip of the tank. The silkworm crawled onto his hand without any hesitation. Tentatively, he drew it closer. Its many feet stuck stubbornly to his skin, and it reared up as he approached, swaying slightly, its mandibles twitching.

Crowley stared at the silkworm. The silkworm stared back, and seemed disappointed when Crowley had nothing else to offer. Just to prove it wrong, Crowley materialized a single large mulberry leaf in his other hand and presented it to the insect, who fell upon it with gluttonous enthusiasm.

Staring at the miracled leaf, an idea formed in Crowley's mind. He smiled, slowly.

“I need a hobby, now that I'm jobless,” he said aloud to the silkworm, letting it creep onto his palm. He ran a careful finger over its smooth back. “I think I'll take up sericulture again, for old time's sake.” He reached back into the tank and gently encouraged the silkworm to crawl back inside.

“Humans have to boil you alive to get those nice unbroken threads off your cocoons,” Crowley mused, withdrawing his hand. “Fortunately, I don't have to do things the human way.” He lowered himself until he was eye-level with the inhabitants of the tank. The silkworm he had carried paused in its perpetual eating and turned its head, almost like it was looking at him.

“How's this?” Crowley asked. “You'll be able to grow into a fuzzy, fully grown silk-moth, and I can take your cocoon after you've finished with it and miracle the threads whole again.” He paused and mulled it over. “I guess I could take it a step further and just miracle the finished silk together, but there's still something to be said about the human way of doing things.”

The silkworm bobbed the front half of its body as though in agreement. Crowley smiled again.

“We can make silk, and no one gets hurt. I'm a few hundred years out of practice, but I'm sure I could make it work, somehow.”

The silkworm turned its attention back to its meal. Crowley didn't notice. He was too busy wondering if Aziraphale had any old texts on silk-weaving that he could borrow, just so he could refresh his memory.

The angel would appreciate having a new silk bowtie to add to his collection.

---

Thank you for reading! Replies and reblogs are always much appreciated. <3

[the-satellite]

Hello friends and welcome to ☆Hateful Nostalgia☆. I was exposed to the mob talker mod WAY too young bc I was an unsupervised child on the internet watching mod showcases and SkyDoesMinecraft. Looking back these sucked, the stories were often bland and the designs were milk toast at best and tits out at worst. So for the sake of procrastinating on working on anything substantial I grabbed the main 6 I remembered and gussied em up. Redesigns, rewrites, better names, all that bullshit. If your interested in better photos, design notes, story details and rambling hit the basement, otherwise here's a line up you should click for better quality.

Also I wrote all this once before already but I deleted it like a dumb bitch. On the night Unus Annus was murdered in front of my eyes no less. Was a rough fuckin night.

The Creeper- Kupa. An explosive pyromaniac with a habit of making empty threats and yelling. She protects what she believes to be her territory with a suicidal passion, but if you manage to get her to cool down and soften up she's pretty sick to hand out with. Hard of hearing, has at least one bout of head trauma at all times, and deathly allergic to cats.

Because the creeper is kinda the og I wanted to reference AT2's design more than the others, but I'm p sure the only thing I actually kept was the red hair and brown gloves. Otherwise I was doing whatever. I really wanted to lean into the explody bit of creepers, so I gave her some bite and dressed her in clothes referenced from Irish railroad workers. This may also be why I keep imaging her with a very heavy Irish or Scottish accent, whichever would be most incomprehensible when angry. Every color but her skin was color picked from one of the references, with some minor alterations for makes my eyes happy reasons.

With Kupa I imagine a story line with her would largely be about her as a character and her development than like an actual adventure narrative like everyone else. She starts off ready to blow up both you and herself in a misguided attempt to defend what she sees as her's and opens up and learns not everyone is out to get her. Lots of time taken to understand her childhood and how she ended up how she is. Very simple, probably the default or tutorial run people would go through.

The Zombie- Bee. The ill husk of a missing explorer suffering from a less than conventional appetite. She wallows in her self imposed loneliness, believing herself to be an irredeemable monster doomed to hurt those around her. What she really needs is a buddy and some clue to who she used to be. Rough voiced, chronically fatigued, and prone to spontaneous combustion in sunlight.

 I definitely consider this one the weakest for design sadly. I imagined Zombies as humans who went into strange caves and caverns and didn't come out for years, only to pop up as completely different people. I just tossed AT2's design. The first thing I did was make her a bit of a genderbent Steve and tinted her green bc Zombies in game are just Steve but green. Tore up her clothes, colored picked the darkest colors I could from the clothes on the in game and boom, Bee. I do vaguely regret not making her eyes pure black but I also still wanted her to be human enough to fit with the other overworld mods.

 Ok so Bee actually has a basic story. When you meet her she's aggressive, but as a warning. She fears the possibility she may hurt somebody so heads for threats immediately. Going back and forth between her cave and village for a while you learn more about the situation with the missing folks who come back and Bee as a person. After a bit you pick her up off her depressed ass and start a nocturnal adventure of refinding your past, adapting to who your becoming, overcoming self destuction, and slow burn babey!!! 

The Skeleton- Ulna. One of the few surviving warriors of a now destroyed kingdom and dead culture. She spends most of her time now traveling alone, hiding in trees and shooting anything see sees as a threat- which is everything- in the face with homemade arrows. Very much suffering from loss of her home and a bad case of lost purpose. A woman of few words, very antisocial, and naturally nocturnal.

 I came in with the Skeleton wanting to make her seem mysterious, so my first thought was immediately a cloak and a mask, but I wanted her face to like be visible so I went with the face paint. I didn't actually know that I wanted to do under there so I went with wraps that are reminiscent of the original outfit but still not tits out bc it's so fucking easy! Gave her a quiver, color picked the cloak and face paint from the in game model and the wraps from AT2'S art. I did like. Subconsciously draw her eyes the way I do Asian characters but I didn't have anything specific in mind so like go nuts with what you think she is.

 Ulna's deal is very much her lack of purpose or home and the entire thing is about finding that again. She's found sitting up in a tree during a storm pointing a bow and arrow into your face. She eventually let's you stick around until the storm is over and theres some bonding into deep night until the rain stops. You ask if she wants to come with on your little travelling sword for hire business, she says sure, sleep schedule shenanigans, backstory angst, and road trip bonding happens and she eventually decides that helping people is her new purpose and you're her new home

The Spider- Park. A young adult experiencing the world for the first time through her tribe's rite of passage. She's really just trying to figure out how to live life outside of the cave she's been stuck in her entire life and aggressively trying to be an independent adult despite not knowing anything about being an independent adult. Its projection. Blind in the daylight, naive and excitable, and taken to refusing help at her own risk.

 Ok so. I don't know who looked at the spider and said "purple haired loli with puffy pants" so I once again yeeted the whole thing, only really keeping the kinda cutesy and childish bits. Spiders are a tribe of humans what live in caves unless they've broken off to live on the surface. Kids are kept inside until they hit a certain milestone, where they come up to explore at night. They're usually small and pale, but are pretty kickass when necessary. Again picked the colors off the in game model, played with the lightest gray for the skin, and bc I couldn't figure out anyway to use the stripes so they're on the patches lol.

 Park's meeting is probably the funniest and most meet cute one here, in that she accidentally drops on top of you from a little cliff drop off. Cue loads of apologies and an explanation about the spider deal and being blind in light. She asks for some help getting around and bam babey friendship and emotional attachment! What follows is kinda a buddy of coming of age story with the obligatory goes home and is miserable scene. Generally it's just about being a scared young adult and having someone to fall back on and why that's important. Also crushes and young people being bad at that.

 The Blaze- Amber. A demonic entity who would let the world burn and the sun die if it meant she'd get her soul back. She's known for being ruthless, taking souls through force instead of making deals like other Blazes. Keeps this forceful nature even once she's become friendly, makes you do dump shit. Territorial, eyes glow and dim with her life, and runs remarkably warm.

 Amber here is the first one I actually did! I was just. Really tired that she was in a bikini. I decided early on I wanted overworld mobs to be human and everyone else was decidedly not, so Blazes are demons who gave up their souls under false pretenses to other Blazes. Because of how little clothes AT2's design wore I had essentially free reign and my thought was immediately to lean on golden knight bc of how Blazes are found protecting fortresses. The gold isn't picked from anything bc I was looser with the colors, but everything else is, and the hair is supposed to represent the smoke. Also the sticks in her hair are blaze rods bc I don't like them just floating around her.

Amber is found in the Nether obviously, protecting a fortress and immediately trying beat your ass and either incinerate you or make you give up your soul. During you prove yourself a p damn good fighter and she makes a deal to show you how Blazes exist and pursade you to give your soul up willingly. Bonding happens and she explains where the souls go and what happened to her. Insert line about how she dug in the sand for her soul until her fingers bleed bc I'm an Arcana freak lol. In general I'd just like her to learn to adapt to who she is now and learning to live life well instead of letting her anger burn her up from the inside out.

 The Enderman- Violet. A confused but sweet young bit of void created by and connected to the Ender Dragon. Her relationship with reality is tenuous at best and abusive at worst, making stable existence rather difficult. She doesn't know a name, age, gender, anything about herself aside from that she likes sweaters. Communicates primarily through psychic connections, docile and sweet, and melts like a witch in water.

 Violet was incredibly easy, so this may be way short. Endermen are decidedly human shaped void from the End with varying sentience. They're direct extensions of the Ender Dragon, and nobody knows how they're made or where they come from, not even they do. Adventurers who escaped The End say they seem scared of it though. Violet in particular is pretty damn new and extraordinary nonconforming, and I tried to show that with her sweater and ponytail. Once again, literally all colors picked. Definitely the simplest but one of my favs.

Violet is the sweetest meet up I think. As your traveling between villages you notice a strange enderman watching you and plant a little flower in front of her. She picks it and you hear a happy little trill come from you and a pretty voice say thank you in your head. Now you have a tall dark teleporting travel buddy! After a little bit of back and forth she tells you in some broken English that the Ender Dragon made her but she doesnt know how, and that it's bad and needs to be killed for the sake of Endermen and that's the new goal. Spoiler they're the corrupted souls of those that died fighting it, with it gone Endermen are free to exist as their own being and do whatever, hurray!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #365

“i’m numb to the pleasure, but still feel the pain”

Are there palm trees where you live? No. Do you own any Hello Kitty stuff? If so, what? No. What’s your favorite flavor of ice pop? Blue raspberry. Do you like animal print? What’s your favorite print? Not really. I think animal "print" only really looks nice on, well, animals. Does your dad have any facial hair? Yes. What do you think of foot tattoos? They're not my favorite, but some look nice. I myself wanna get "11121" (a Silent Hill 4 reference) "carved" onto the top of my feet. Do you like bugs or do they scare you? Some do. I've gotten more into them though as my passion for tarantulas expanded to other inverts, like mantises. Ever seen the movie Chernobyl Diaries? If so, did you like it? If not, do you want to see it? I haven't, but I'd be willing to watch it. I find the whole Chernobyl incident to be extremely fascinating, so I'd probably like it. Did your senior class in high school have a class trip? Where did you go? Bitch I wish. :/ Do you have an instagram account? What’s your username? Yeah, two: brittanymphotography and eldritch_obscura. Do you like Gir from Invader Zim? I think he's cute. Do you or would you ever own a gun? Why or why not? No thanks. If I'm not mistaken, I can't legally obtain one anyway because of my suicidal history. I'm fine with having like, pepper spray and a bat handy by the bed, lol. If it was offered for free by a professional, would you get your hair dyed platinum blonde? For FREE? Fuck yeah I'd try it. What do you normally order at Dunkin Donuts? A chocolate frosted donut, and sometimes a plain/cake one. Do you watch football? Favorite teams? No. What about WWE? Favorite wrestler? That's an even bigger no. Funniest thing you’ve ever heard a teacher say? Okay so this is hard to actually explain and it be funny. I had this amazing, kinda charismatically awkward history teacher in high school, and when talking about some legal stuff I can't remember, she deadass quoted "Without Me" by Eminem ("if the FCC won't let me be...") like so casually and everyone fucking died, just from knowing her and her personality. It was just very unexpected. Do you wear a lot of makeup? What do you think of girls who do? No. Girls can wear however much makeup they please. Do you have a savings account? Are you good at saving money? No. I can't really answer the second question because of me never having a steady flow of money. Would you rather have a relationship or casual flings? Relationship, 100%. I would never have a casual fling. Do you know anyone that’s part Native American? Yes. Who was your favorite Spice Girl? I remember none of them. Have you ever tried to poison someone? Yikes, no. Have you ever saved anyone from a fire? No. Have you ever had a seizure? No. I've had sudden spasms, but never a full-on seizure. Have you ever had an out-of-body experience? No. Have you ever had a black eye? No. Have you ever had a tooth pulled? No. Have you ever had pneumonia? I have not. Have you ever had tubes put in your ears? Yes, as a baby. Have you ever been shot with an arrow or bullet? Thank god no. Have you ever had kidney stones? No. Have you even been bitten by an venomous animal? No. Have you ever thought about being in the military? Fuck no. I wouldn't qualify, anyway. Have you ever been sedated or put under anesthesia? Yeah. Have you ever used shrooms or any other hallucinogen? No. What upcoming event are you most looking forward to? I can barely believe my tat appointment is almost here lakjsd;ajwlej;rwe What was the last song you heard? I'm currently listening to Motionless In White's synthwave edit of "Voices" they just put out. I looooove it. What time did you wake up today? Maybe like, 5:20? Is there a vase in the room you’re in? No. Have you recently been insulted? Yes. Compared to someone else of your age and gender; do you feel that you have a lot to offer someone? N O P E How many days a week do you work? I'm unemployed. Is there ONE person you feel more connected to than others? Yes. What is your worst relationship quality? I obsess over the person probably leaving, so especially at the beginning, I'm paranoid and distrustful. I want to emphasize that I'm not the asshole that snoops through her partner's phone out of distrust, but still, the fear is just there. What was your most recent serious injury? A serious one? Man idk. I've had a lot or negligible and smaller ones, but a big one... *shrug* What were you most recently happy about? I was happy to see "synthwave" in this video title, haha. Are you a fan of cake? Oh yes. What is your favorite insect? Butterflies. Is your town beautiful? Ew, no. Do you prefer the city or the country? THE COUNTRY. Have you ever witnessed an eclipse? Lots of lunar eclipses. Do you wear lipstick often? No. You’re going on a date with someone you like. What would you like to do? Considering the pandemic, probably just like... grab fast food and sit and eat at a park. That'd be cute. You’re hanging out with your best friend. What would you like to do? It'd be nice to get back to Avatar: The Last Airbender while hanging out with Doris (her beardie that I adore), too. Have you ever written or considered writing a play? No. Who is considered the “black sheep” of your family? Why? Ha, me. To begin, I like all the "dark" stuff, I'm the unreligious one, the one with political beliefs unlike most of my family, I'm not doing what I should be... Why is your favorite movie your favorite movie? It's just a masterpiece. I love love love animals, African one especially, and I find it to be an amazing story of courage and dedication to family. Plus I shamelessly love all the songs, haha. What’s an odor you hate? GASOLINE. FUCK. What’s a sound you hate? Fingernails on a chalkboard. Or screech-y noises in general. If money was no issue, what would you like to do right now? I was initially gonna say go to Yellowstone, but fuck that hot weather this time of year. So, this brings us back to Venus' terrarium; I'd want to get a new one and better materials. What’s something you’re so good at that you take pride in your skill? I wouldn't say I'm "so good" at it, but I do take pride in my writing. What’s something you’d never ever dare to ask another person? Hm. Under ANY circumstance, I guess "are you pregnant?" There's almost like... no situation where I'd be comfortable asking somebody that. What’s the worst/best thing you’ve done without your parents knowing? We're not getting into that lmao. Do you know anyone who has a hearing deficit? No. What is one thing stopping you from becoming a veterinarian? I could never stand seeing so many hurt and dying animals and still be okay at the end of the day. Are there any opinions you used to have even a few years ago that you look back on and think, “I can’t believe I ever thought that way”? THERE ARE!!!!!!!!!!! A LOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The last time you cried, what was wrong? I fell and skinned my knees when stepping over this barrier Mom made to keep the damn dog out of the hallway and thus my room to fuck with the cat and eat his food. I previously twisted my ankle, fell backwards, and had one other accident with it despite moving stuff, and I didn't cry from pain, just massive frustration. I want this dog GONE. Do you like multi-choice tests or tests you have to write out? Multiple choice. Who last called you ‘beautiful’? Couldn't tell ya, bud. Have you ever caught a firefly? Yeah, I did that lots as a kid. Do you own any camouflage? No. What’s the stinkiest pet you’ve ever had? Uhhh I dunno. Have you ever been on the news? For what? No. Have you ever seen one of your friends get arrested? No. Do you put sprinkles on anything? No, I hate sprinkles. How do you like your steak? Medium well. Long hair on guys: yes or no? Yaaaaaaaas. Is there a basement in your house? If so, what is it used for? No. When was the last time you started a new medication? It's been a while. What is your favourite type of nut? Cashews, I think. Where did you eat the best pizza you’ve ever eaten in your life? I'm so fuckin basic, like my genuine answer is Domino's lmaooo. Did you ever watch The Rugrats when you were a kid? Yeah, I loved that show. I even had the two video games; I was obsessed with the first one in particular. Do you know anyone who was adopted? Yes. Do your parents’ professions match their college degrees? No. Do you write shopping lists on paper or just remember it in your head? I don't do the shopping, so. But I would definitely need to write it down. Have you ever used a lawnmower? No. Have you ever consumed so much alcohol that you vomited? No. Can you tie balloons? No, actually. My hands are just too shaky. When was the last time you were at a pet store? A few weeks ago when we got rats for Venus. Ugh, it is SO overpriced; they come in a box of two, and as I feed her twice a month, it's honestly quite a bit of money. Like if I remember correctly, it's around $16. FOR TWO. SMALL. RATS. I've recommended we just buy them in bulk NOT from an overpriced chain pet store, but the problem with that is then we have *too* many, and the nutritional value of frozen rats apparently does degrade with time, so I don't want to feed my snake poor food. So it's just an annoying thing we have to do. Have you ever taken a pregnancy test? Not like, an at-home one. I've been tested before surgery, but that was just a safety protocol. Does your ex still think about you? "The" ex, probably not. Honestly, who is the last person to tell you that they love you? My mom. What is the last state you were in besides your own? Virginia. Would you go down to see the Titanic if given the chance? Man, that's kinda tempting. Maybe. It'd be super cool. Have you ever seen the Hollywood sign in real life? No. Did you ever see a scorpion in the wild? No, they don't live here. Do you type the proper way? Have you ever typed on a manual typewriter? Yes to both. What was your maternal grandmother’s first name? Cecelia. Name a word that people use locally that outsiders probably can’t pronounce. Conetoe. You said it wrong.

[thursdayplaid]

Theogony says Persephone was abducted and there is zero evidence that Persephone was a Queen without Hades, or Hades being a King just after marrying Persephone. You can’t modify history to make a story feel better for modern values. Also please, Hades was so much more than “a god with a dog”. The myth was about separation because that was needed to explain death-life, agriculture cycles and other stuff.

So once upon a time, I wrote a post about how media and general assumption paints historical European women’s life as something it wasn’t and talked specifically how most women of the period got married in their twenties.  You would expect that people would get upset about rocking that particular boat, you (maybe) wouldn’t expect how many women were furious that I dared imply that a woman’s wasn’t a slow smear of blood from the womb to the grave.

The moral of the story is that I’ve spent hours of good faith gathering sources and getting them all lined up for an educational essay and then I remembered my experience with the post about historical European women and that you posted this on anon and that was about as far as my good faith reached. 

Suffice to say, after reviewing the most friendly to use Greek version (ie, not a picture of a manuscript) I could find online of the Theogony as well as a number of historical and modern translations I just didn’t care anymore.  I suspect you wouldn’t even care if I attached screenshots so why am I even trying to bother, you have the internet, you could have verified what I said before sending this message.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Due to questions of authorship, the section of the Theogony that mentions the marriage of Persephone and Hades usually isn’t included and in the earliest texts where the ‘whole’ Theology was provided it wasn’t clear that there was an abduction unless you’re talking Gregory Nagy who admits to adapting the translation.  It is very clear however that Persephone had white arms, so in case you were worried I just want you to know that Persephone definitely had white arms.  I assume the rest of her body was of a similar color, but the texts aren’t clear.

Also Persephone appears independently in several places (and Nonnus refers to Hades as Persephone’s consort more than once, he may be a relation of yours, Anon.  Shout out to your ancient great-grandfather).  Our girl P was borrowed from the Etruscans as Persipnei or Phersipnai (a word I don’t know if I could pronounce and look at at the same time, some words are just like that) and was connected to the god Aita who was definitely a god of the underworld and not of a subreddit.  She was also connected to the Pershu who wore masks and chased dead people. Even farther back the Mycenaeans called her Preswa (depending on how you Angelicize) and sacrificed all kinds of livestock to her.  Preswa’s feasts are discussed on several tablets.

(I know I said no pictures, but look at this tablet!)

I cannot find my copy of Greek Religion but suffice to say, go back far enough and stuff gets wild.  Preswa has a whole cremation thing, there are chickens involved which is kind of metal if you’ve ever met a chicken - very thematic.  Preswa may have been the embodiment of the divine child and (as well as Demeter) to children who died in infancy.  Possible the Separation is about a mother who lost her child and after the child was cremated used the ashes to grow a flower which turned into a new child.  These stories are very similar to certain ancient rites of Isis which complicates things and I don’t know if it really bears mentioning because I feel like it’s mostly conjecture. 

This is a bowl from the Minoan ceremonies that eventually became the Eleusinian Mysteries in which pre-Hellenistic Demeter and Persephone hang out.  This bowl is amazing.  I support this bowl and what it stands for:

And you know what, Persephone and Demeter go back even further than this awesome bowl.  Really though, I want to appreciate this bowl a little more.  I would drive this bowl to the airport and four in the morning and give it pancakes in a tupperware container.  The really cool thing those is that the Minoans who’s culture began in 2700 BCE (according to wikipedia) didn’t even invent the Mysteries!  They imported proto-Demeter and proto-Persephone!  It’s that just the coolest!  Demeter and Persephone are crazy old!  They’re so old people can’t figure out who invented them!  That’s really cool!

So unless you’re suggesting that I traveled back in time over five thousand years to invent a cult and paint a bowl so that my modern feelings wouldn’t get hurt I think it’s at least moderately clear I’m not rewriting history.  For one thing, in my wildest dreams I could not invent the chicken shenanigans these priestesses came up with.  So like.  I have no doubt you’re not reading this at all.  I’m sure you’re high fiving your friends about telling me off and you know what, I hope they are great high fives.  I hope you have a great day.  I hope that you are well-rested and that you discover you’re favorite treat in your pantry that you forgot you had and that it brightens your day.  Like, it’s not my job to educate you, but I still hope that whatever made you respond like you did instead of pursuing a narrative about a goddess that isn’t male-centric clears up.  Also if your skin isn’t clear I hope that clears up too.  I had so much run writing this.  You really kind of aggravated me in the way you kind of demanded emotional labor from me, but then I got to look up that bowl again and like, I get it.  We all have stories we’re attached to and I just started having more and more fun writing this.  If you did get this far, like I don’t know, thanks for sticking in there?  Hope you learned some fun stuff about history?

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Natural Selection.

Cas is 'The Secret Boyfriend' in Dean's phone.

He was originally Cass, till Cas saw it once and was horrified enough for Dean to feel guilty.

Soon enough, he was Cas <3 because he happened to leave his cell lying around Sam.

And then, when Cas and Dean started - well - calling each other boyfriends; Charlie had frowned when he'd referred to it as starting to date, because apparently, they'd been doing that for years already - Dean changed it himself to 'Bf', induced by a particular drunken night of missing him terribly.

There were further transitions, all revolving about the same theme. There was a certain thrill, Dean realised. Occasionally, Cas would want to know what he was being called that week, with that soft smile on his face, and Dean would be proud to tell him. 

Sometimes he'd have to explain the nicknames. Good times.

He never has to ask, though. Dean has been Humanity in Cas’s phone, long since Crowley got his hands on it.

One sunny morning, during breakfast in their windowless kitchen, Cas asks him again. Dean just nudges his phone in his direction, occupied in trying to get his omelette fit in the pan just right.

Cas laughs when he sees, Cas, secret boyfriend. He reads it aloud to Dean, who has his back turned to him, shirtless and apron adorned.

Dean practically stutters around to stare at him. "But -" He was sure he'd put Cherrypie earlier that week, so how could it have changed since - unless, of fucking course, Gabriel must have got his hands on it again. Goddammit. It seems to be his newest way of annoying Dean. "I didn't -" He begins.

But Cas has a faint smile on his lips, as he edits it himself, nimble fingers now having learned to be quick as they dance across the keyboard.

Dean leans over his shoulder to read, and Cas tilts his head to let Dean see. "That made it seem like there might be others." His scruff strokes Dean's bicep as he told him. It tickles.

"Other secret boyfriends?" Dean repeats, licking his lips, leaning in further and allowing Cas to press his lips to the corner of Dean's shy smile.

"Other Cas's." Cas corrects.

"Nah." Dean shakes his head, if only to get Cas's lips to move against his cheek. "You're the only Cas for me, Cas." Cas's lips curl into a smile, and it's a smooth transition, he can feel it right on his skin. Dean loves being close to Cas.

"You're the only Dean for me too." Cas tells him frankly, dimpling as he finally plants an actual kiss on Dean's lips, by using a hand to turn his jaw to get it on the mark just right. Dean's eyes close instantly, when Cas cups his face. They linger.

For a moment too long, or maybe too little, they're lost. Then, Dean lets his hand fall on the back of Cas's neck, and ghost the inside of his collar, and Cas shifts in his seat, putting some distance between them. If Cas hadn't pulled back just then, Dean could bet he would've ended up straddling him - even for as sweet as they'd been kissing.

Cas sighs, softly, as if he was returning from somewhere. "Dean, I think your omelette just turned into scramble."

"Oh, well." Dean grins, straightening. Satisfied. "You'd eat whatever I fed you."

"You've taught me that's love." Cas throws back, half accusatory, mostly just smiling. Dean feels a flutter in his insides at the word, as he turns back to the stove.

And that's the story of how Cas started being called The Secret Boyfriend by Dean's phone.

***

There's Cas smiling at him, head tucked under Dean's arm and everything, whenever he unlocks his phone to his home screen.

When Dean got his first phone under his real name, he was seventeen.

John surprised him with it.

It wasn't even his birthday or anything. There was a vamp nest, a couple cities over. And that time, Sam had won the argument with Dad, and the brothers were to stay behind - and go to school, Sam had primarily argued - while John went off to take care of the hunt. But it was close to holiday season, so no motels had vacancies for more nights than one, and they were looking to stay indefinitely - so John's only option had been to rent a flat.

It was a one bedroom place, the kind which would've been cramped if they'd had any furniture at all. The building had an air of misery, but it was probably just the cold. Even the landlord didn't live there anymore.

But now, Sam was thirteen and tall, and Dean worked weekends - so they were old enough in John's book, to be left back; with money that wasn't theirs, and that one cellphone with a month's bill paid. Dean's first phone.

The next day, lying on the bed because they hadn't bought a new couch and Dean definitely wasn't going to touch the one that'd come with the house unless at gunpoint, Dean set his first wallpaper.

It was Gunnar Lawless, flexing a bicep, and smirking over his shoulder, head cocked as if to look right into Dean's eyes, as he stared at his screen in wonder. Someday, he'd have guns like those, and friends like him. Someday, he'd be a man like him.

John returned in a week's time. They drove away. (Didn't even tell the landlord they were vacating the house, because then they'd have to give reasons. Lying wasn't a problem. But it got boring, sometimes.)

Dean grew up.

When he hit nineteen - around the same time he moved to that one highscool in Texas where he'd eventually meet Rhonda Hurley, he made a friend.

Ben was cool. He taught Dean things, though he probably didn't know Dean was learning from him. Dean was good at that.

Once, Ben had snickered at some guy's clothes. Said it was a lot. Guys were supposed to keep it cool. Keep it simple, keep it casual.

Those had been the origins of 'Less is More'. The basics are the classics, a little is a lot, things like that. If you were untraditional about things like mobile wallpapers, you were trying too hard.

Dean knew that was stupid.

Dean also knew he was going to change it to the default.

He felt good about it for just about a minute, and then just foolish. He would even have changed it back, Ben could screw off, he didn't care, if only he'd kept staring at his screen for longer. But break was over, and Dean picked up his books and Ben picked up his, and they went off to class.

Sadly, the boring grey squares stuck with Dean for much longer than the school and his friend did.

Much later, when highschool was all done, and Sammy was all gone - Dean changed it to Baby.

It had been a night spent wholly driving, with Dad passed out next to him. Don't worry, he was alright. Just the final showdown of a hunt, and then the alcohol. Never a good pair, Dean remembered thinking, back then.

It was a good angle for Baby, showed off her strength, magnificence and color. Dean felt almost proud of the photo he'd taken. The aluminium glistened and the glass had a cleaner sheen somehow. She looked terrific, headlights blazing and everything - and it was his. They'd had that conversation earlier that night, and though John had been sufficiently drunk, Dean knew he'd remember his words. The Impala was his. Hell, Dean didn't spare a thought to the former definition of cool, as he changed his wallpaper.

His car was what was fucking cool. Anybody who wanted to tell him otherwise could go screw himself.

Baby stayed on Dean's homescreen for a long time.

Sometimes he'd replace it with newer, better pictures he took of her. Sam would grin, tell Dean he was very good at photography for someone with such a crappy camera, and Dean would flip him off with a mirroring grin.

Baby finally got off his screen, years later.

Dean didn't know what had got into him, but he swears to himself that he was at least a little bit drunk to have been googling 'I Killed Hitler' quote images.

It was also weird how he got one which matched his tastes perfectly - black background, text in unavoidable bold purple. There were a lot of options on the internet.

That part was stupid, too. He knew that none of them killed Hitler. Of course, because it was he who did.

But he did end up finding the perfect one, and Dean had it on his screen for a good bit of time too. He'd occasionally shove it in Sam's face, for example, to prove a completely unrelated point - just to savor the way his brother looked at him like nothing annoyed him more than Dean did.

And then, there was that day, when Cas came back from his run with Sam - he accompanied him on the days when it looked like Dean wouldn't get up till they're back, Dean knew - and promptly declared that he was going to start taking selfies.

Apparently he'd seen many people doing it, had been seeing them do it for years, and was affirmative that he wanted to try it. It almost certainly didn't help when Dean informed him that he hadn't taken a single selfie in his entire life and that he was living just fine.

Cas had always been stubborn.

And he had a phone, now. And, he certainly had always had a way with Dean.

"Why are you so difficult, Dean? Why is it so hard for you to smile at the camera?" Cas grumbled, probably fashioning his tone to sound doubly as annoyed as he was.

"'Cause it's not the camera. I'm smiling at myself here, Cas." Dean rolled his eyes. "It's dumb." He had his phone held at eyelevel, he refused to take it any higher. Then what would be the frigging difference between him and those -

"Then smile at me." Cas interrupted, as an effective idea came to him, and he slid into the picture next to Dean. "There. It's not dumb to smile at me, is it?"

Dean sighed, maybe a little flustered. Cas was pressing up against him pretty close to get in the frame. "You know you're really frigging weird, right?"

"I have a fair idea." Cas beamed at him, and pushed Dean's face with his own to fit fully. Dean had to resist snorting at that. What a complete dork. "There." Cas announced. "We look good. Click on the button. It's the white one -"

"I know how to take a goddamn photo, Cas -"

"- then why aren't you doing it?" Cas cut in, slipping into the tone he saves for when he wants to pretend he's really had enough of Dean's fusses. "I don't see you taking the photo, Dean -"

"I can't do it with the hand which is holding the phone, you stupid -" Dean groaned, trying to twist his arm out of where Cas had squeezed it between their bodies, in his nagging at Dean. "It'll fall if I do that. And I can't use my other hand, because then it'll block your face -"

"Oh, leave it to me." Cas huffed, frustrated, and taking the phone from Dean's outstretched hand. "I'll - let me do it, Dean. I'll do it." Dean clawed at the air to get the phone back but Cas was stretching it away now. At least Dean got to untangle his other arm, and didn't even notice as he slung it around Cas - out of habit, or something. "Now you smile, and I'll just press the button in the middle, and -"

"I know how to take a photo, goddammit!" Dean snapped, right as Cas took the photo. Cas turned at him with a frown, because of that.

It came out pretty candid, was all the praise anyone could offer.

They took more photos. Dean even smiled in a few - believe him, he tried not to. Cas smiled in most, and in some rare ones, the smile crinkled his eyes and showed off his gums - and they luckily coincided with exactly one of Dean's smiling photos, and it was a perfect one, that one.

If it means Cas will smile like that, Dean's going to take more pictures.

It's not till weeks later, when Dean's scrolling through his gallery looking for something important, that he sees the picture for the first time. It's almost impossible to look away.

He can't seem to recall the other details surrounding it, anymore. Just what the photo shows him, and just the way Cas looks in it, with his hair dark and wild, and his eyes shining from having gotten Dean to comply. Collar slightly upturned from Dean's arm making it that way, and his head turned slightly as if he were about to just look at the real Dean before the camera captured the moment. His smile, proud of the fancy new activity, with glances of barely there dimples hiding in his stubble. He's beautiful, and he's happy, and it's a good picture, if there ever was one.

And of course, in the picture too, Dean's only got his eyes on Cas.

In that moment, Dean Winchester had found exactly what he wanted to see, whenever he unlocked his phone, for the rest of his life. And that's the story of how Dean found his wallpaper, for the ages.

(And yes, ever since they enabled different wallpapers for the lockscreen and the homescreen, he's had eleven year old Sammy dressed as a pumpkin for a school halloween fest, on the former. He collected the photo from Missouri some time ago, and Sam detests it audibly, so obviously Dean isn't going to change it ever.)

***

The story about ringtones isn't even that long.

It started off with 'Wanted Dead Or Alive', because the spunky, daydreaming teenage boy he never got to be, but maybe also did - seemed to connect to Bon Jovi's lyrics on a stupidly basic level.

His ringtones made their way through the classics. Bob Dylan, Elton John, John Lennon, Bruce Springsteen. Had Eye Of The Tiger for a long time. He had Kansas, Guns 'N Roses, Pink Floyd. He remembers he had Smoke on the Water for a while. All good ones.

After dying a hundred and four times in 2008, he switched to Heat Of The Moment. Sam bitchfaced at him all through those weeks of Asia.

Kevin was the one who brought to his attention, years later, that if they really committed such criminal levels of identity theft, they should try to blend in more. It was right after his phone had suddenly come alive with Freddie Mercury singing, in the middle of a discussion with the sheriff.

"Good taste, no offense." Kevin had begun. "But you've gotta step it down, if you don't want to be noticed any more than you already do."

"He's right." Sam had joined in. "At least give up something. Nobody can get you to stop your vintage muscle car around, and she drives like a farm tractor on some roads, Dean."

"Shut your face, bitch." Dean had thrown back, instantly. "Kevin's obviously talking about your golden frigging mane, okay? Get the damn thing cut, and I'll look into silencers or whatever."

Of course, neither of those things ever happened, or would ever happen. But Dean did listen to their resident prophet, and change his ringtone to the Apple ringtone most important people have.

Instead of a legend singing at him, he got musical beeping in a ridiculously annoying rhythm. But it stuck.

It stayed, for good.

(Well, there was that one night, when they were all high in spirits and drunk in celebration, just Cas and him that too, and it had seemed genius to get Cas to record a message for his ringtone in his worst, deepest deadpan.

Cas was easily convinced - the terrific inebriation levels in both of them had to have helped, too - and Dean had woken up in the morning to his phone ringing in Cas's mechanical voice, except this time it was actually machine-driven. "Dean. Dean, pick up the phone. You're being called. You should pick up the phone, Dean. I think -" and Dean hadn't got to hear more of it, completely grizzled by sleep, because although he fucking loved Cas's unfairly hot voice most days, he'd snapped and picked up the phone - only to have Sam cackle at him from the other end and smugly ask him how he likes his new ringtone.

Maybe it had been Sam's idea, after all. Dean obviously would never recall, and the smartass must've known that. He knows all the kinds of drunk Dean can be.

Also, Cas did say 'Dean' a lot, didn't he? But that's a story for another time.)

That's all that can be said on the matter of ringtones. Dean goes back to the beeps soon enough - they're also kind of easy to get used to, he hadn't known that before. Sam has 'normal' ringtones too, and it's fun to try and guess whose - and which of their dozens of phones are ringing, especially on inventory days. They made it into a game years back.

Cas, on the other hand? He keeps his phone on vibrate, ever since Jack confided in him how cool it looked, when in the middle of a crowd, or a heated scene, no one notices but Cas feels the vibrations first, and noiselessly picks up his phone and begins to speak.

Like a spy who wears a secret headset, Jack had gone on to say. The perks of basically being a wave, Dean had scoffed, grinning still. He was supposed to be the cool dad. You get to hear all your fellow wavelengths.

Cas had just shrugged.

So on vibrate, it stayed - and no one really knows if Castiel even has a ringtone, let alone what it is. The vibration mode is a good enough explanation.

Dean, though, has a fairly good idea of what it might be.

After all, he was who Cas approached for help in retrieving it off Dean's own gift, into his phone's storage.

It's the twelfth song on the mixtape.

Ramble on.

***

Lucyyyy! This one's for you! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, and I know I'm late, oh so late, but you're very sweet to still allow me to give you a present ❣️✨ Hope you enjoy this, @all-or-nothing-baby, and everyone who reads this should go wish her a belated happy birthday~~<3

[panharmonium]

Author Interview

Tagged by @jedirangerpenguin, who is one of my oldest friends from way back in our Star Wars days <3 I don't think the two of us have been active in the same fandom together for years, and yet I am still always so psyched to see her on my dash, posting fic and being awesome and creative - JRP, if I ever go back and finish playing the Mass Effect games, you will be the first person I talk to! :D

Name: Pan!

Fandoms: In terms of fandoms for which I produce writing - Star Wars, Teen Wolf, and Merlin.

Where You Post: My fic tag for simple, unpolished stuff.  AO3 for finalized works.

Most Popular One-Shot: Technically I have a work skin enabled on AO3 that hides stats from me (and i LOVE it; cannot recommend this function highly enough; do not know how I ever used to live without it), so I don't actually know the answer to this in terms of hits or kudos, because I can't see those elements.  By comments/bookmarks, I think it's Though Lovers Be Lost, which is a Obi-Wan-centric fic that I wrote for my dear friend dyingsighs.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: By comments/bookmarks, I think it's Take My Waking Slow.  Also a Star Wars fic, about Obi-Wan and young Anakin, set in the immediate post-TPM era.  (I...hesitate to really call it multi-chapter???  Because it's more like 3 vignettes.  But technically it is three chapters on AO3, so.)

Favorite Story You Wrote:  Wheel of the Year (my ~100k BBC Merlin fic set pre-Camelot, in Ealdor, focusing on Merlin and Will).  I spent over a year working on this monster every single day, and now that it's finally posted, I feel weird not having it on my daily schedule.  I miss hanging out in that world every day - thinking about it makes me emotional.  It was just such a big part of my life for so long, and writing it was like - okay, this is going to sound dramatic, but the process legitimately changed my life.  

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Also Wheel of the Year.  It's a very niche topic, so I knew that it probably wasn't going to see much engagement despite the massive amount of work I put into it (which is not a complaint by any means; I knew this would be the case from the moment I started working on it, so I was fully aware of what I was getting into).  I just had to make sure I was emotionally ready for that, once it was time to post. X)  And more importantly, I had worked on it for so long and poured so much of myself into it that putting it up to be VIEWED, by STRANGERS, in PUBLIC, when I had kept it safe with me in my room for over a year, felt like stripping naked.  

How You Choose Your Titles: No particular method.  Titles are the last thing I think about when I'm writing.  Usually they just emerge during the process.  For Wheel of the Year, I had the title pretty early on, because the eight sections of the actual ‘wheel of the year’/cycle of seasons concept provided the frame for the fic’s eight chapters.

Complete: On my AO3 page, four SW fics and two Merlin fics.  I've been on there since 2014...I am not a fast writer. X)

Incomplete: Works in Progress is a series of SW vignettes that will probably never be finished, unless I take a tumble back into active SW fandom (the title, weirdly, has nothing to do with the fact that the fic is incomplete; it was supposed to be a reference to Anakin's in-progress training and Obi-Wan's development as a master).  I have ~50k of Teen Wolf stuff on my drive that I do eventually want to get back to, when I'm not on such a serious Merlin kick.  And then Merlin-wise, the 'Will Comes to Camelot' AU is a perpetually in-progress project that I work on for fun, whenever I have time or need a break from my other stuff.

Do You Outline? Not in the traditional A, B, C sense.  I always thought that I *should* be that kind of writer - I am definitely a hyper-detailed, ‘needs to be in control of everything, plans for absolutely every contingency' person - and I have tried to be that kind of writer all my life.  But working on my last project showed me once and for all that against all odds, I am not an outliner; I am a discovery writer who just does a truckload of back-end editing.  I don't know why; I can’t explain it.  But it is what it is.  

I do prep for longer pieces, though.  Mostly what that looks like for me is a huge Google doc for each fic where I record ideas, imagery, dialogue, mini-scenes, etc as they come to me (so like this can be over days or weeks or however long the idea is marinating) and that will often organically generate a loose flow.  For Wheel of the Year, the prep looked like me doing months of research, taking notes in eight different books, reading an uncountable number of articles, and making a hand-drawn poster of the medieval farming year in a sketchbook too big for my desk.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: My current project is a multi-chapter Merlin BBC fic set immediately post-Season 3.  I also have the next segment of the 'Will Comes to Camelot' AU mostly done, though again, I only work on that one in the intervals between other things, so it might be a while before that goes up.  And I'll soon be (re)posting the 'Reincarnation AU but this time Will gets to come back' fic that I recently wrote for merlinobsessionist, because I've actually done real edits and re-writes on it now, and soon I'll be uploading it to AO3 in a polished form.

Do You Accept Prompts?  No.  But I will sometimes spontaneously write fic based on something a friend sent or said to me.  The “Will Comes to Camelot" AU was spawned completely from a message that an absolute HERO of an anon sent me, so - sometimes things happen. :D

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: I'm always most excited for whatever I'm working on right this second, haha.  But in a general sense, I am excited for the day when I can click on my AO3 page and see an extensive list of stuff sporting Will's character tag, because my personal mission in fandom is to saturate the Archive with high-quality fic featuring my favorite minor character. =P

Tagging: @merlinobsessionist, @vampiratesinaboat, @bobafett, @outpastthemoat, @madasthesea (only if folks are interested, as always!)  

[alarawriting]

California Road Trip (Good Omens/Lucifer (TV))

OK, it is normally not my policy to post fanfiction to this account, but for some reason it doesn’t feel like a bad idea to do it if it’s a brand new fandom I haven’t done stuff in before, so here I go.

A few notes before I start here:

Both Good Omens and the tv series Lucifer are very, very much situated within Christian mythos - Christian specifically, not Judaism. However, Jesus Christ is very much Jewish. I don’t want to offend any Jewish readers, but I just won’t put up with the Christian historical attempt to somehow erase this fact. So I’m going to try to write him as a practicing Jew, which I admit is going to be weird, because generally speaking, Jewish people do not believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ, which puts him in a kind of “who shaves the barber” situation here.

If there are any Jewish folks out there who would not be bothered by being asked questions about Judaism for the sake of a fanfic starring Jesus Christ and the Antichrist on a road trip, please let me know, because while I’ve been reading about Judaism my entire life and have a great deal of interest in the religion and culture, the fact remains that I was raised Catholic. 

BTW, the title is a working title and may very well end up changed.

Adam Young sat morosely on a bench in the baggage claim at LAX, occasionally kicking his satchel as an expression of his frustration. Bloody stupid America had to be so bloody damn big. And he couldn’t do anything mundane about it – couldn’t hire a car, his driver’s license wasn’t valid in the States; couldn’t get a flight to San Francisco, because Mum and Dad were hardly made of money and his own funds had been just enough to get here; and maybe there was public, a bus or something, but how was he supposed to find it? All the signs and adverts on the walls were for car rental agencies and buses to local hotels.

He fussed with his phone, trying to get Google to tell him how to get a bus to San Francisco so he wouldn’t have to use his other options. The data plan didn’t work in the States and the airport didn’t have free wifi, so he was trying to find an unsecured network he could hop on. Strengthening the signal of an unsecured network seemed to him more legitimate than, say, hacking a secure network, and much more so than, for example, shortening the distance between Los Angeles and San Francisco so he could hire a taxi. He was definitely not going to go that far.

“Hey there,” he heard a man say. “You look frustrated. Anything I can do to help?”

Adam looked up. There was a tall, skinny man with shaggy brown hair in a ponytail, the almost-not-quite sprinkling of facial hair on the chin that people were calling a “soul patch”, and light brown skin of the kind you might see on an Arab, or a Greek, or given that this was the States, maybe a Mexican. He was dressed in very nondescript American clothes – gray t-shirt, plaid long-sleeve shirt unbuttoned, blue jeans, sneakers – and had the kind of friendly smile that made you immediately want to trust him and tell him your problems. Adam was deeply suspicious.

“Oh, no, don’t put yourself to any trouble on my account,” Adam said. “I’ve just got a thing I need to work out, is all.”

“No problem,” the man said. “But if there’s anything I can do to help you, please, just ask. We’re family, after all.” He grinned widely.

Adam blinked at that. “…Family?”

The man extended his hand. “Josh Carpenter. I’m your cousin.”

Adam’s da had no siblings. Mum had one, Adam’s flamboyantly gay uncle who definitely did not have any children or Adam would have been hearing about them his entire life. “I don’t have any cousins.”

“Well. Okay. Technically I’m your uncle, but you and I are a lot closer in age than the rest of the family so I really don’t feel comfortable calling myself an uncle.”

“I’ve only one uncle and you’re definitely not him.”

“Other side of the family,” Josh said.

Adam stood up, preparing to put some distance between himself and the obvious scammer. “My da hasn’t got any brothers or sisters.”

“Other other side, Adam,” Josh said. “The side you don’t like to think about much.”

And that knocked the wind out of him. Adam stared at the other man, who looked to be at most a year or two older than Adam himself. “…My other other side. You mean… my bio-father.”

“That’s a rather cold word to use, but I can see why it would be your choice,” Josh said. “Yes. Your bio-father’s my older half-brother.”

“So you’re a—” He hesitated. How did you publicly call someone an angel, or a demon, and which would it be? And wouldn’t it be offensive if he got it wrong? He’d gotten the distinct impression from Crowley and Az that most of their people were not nearly as laid-back or friendly as they were, and if this was an emissary from his bio-father, was he going to have to unleash his other side after all? They weren’t supposed to interfere on Earth, not in any way that inconvenienced him, anyway.

“Oh, no, no. I’m as human as you are.” Josh smiled again. The expression lit up his entire face, making him practically radiate ‘I’m a great guy, you should want to be my friend.’

Adam was about to retort that if Josh knew as much as he thought he did, he’d know exactly how human Adam was, and wasn’t, when his brain finished processing the name “Josh Carpenter” in the context of the other things the man had said, and realized who he was talking to. “Wait – you’re – my God.” Abruptly he realized that what he’d said was so apropos it went out the other side to being inappropriate. “I mean—”

Josh laughed. “Don’t worry about it, I know what you’re trying to say,” he said. “Anyway, I’m not, you know. Not like people think, anyway. I’m basically like you.”

Adam, entirely too aware of how close to being a god he was, was not reassured. “So, um… do we need to fight now, or something? Because I really don’t want to fight anyone.”

This time Josh’s laugh wasn’t a gentle chuckle, but more like a belly laugh. “No, no!” He got his hilarity under control. “No. You made your decision when you were eleven, and I’m really glad, because I never wanted any of that nonsense either. And to be perfectly honest I don’t think Father did either. The whole thing came from John’s predictions, and I think they all somehow got the idea that John was channeling information directly from Father because he was one of my best friends, but the truth is? John was… a little weird, to be honest. Wonderful guy, great friend, but… he was never all that grounded, if I’m being honest.”

“So wait. None of that business was in the Divine Plan after all?”

“Contrary to popular belief I don’t generally have any more idea what Father is up to than anyone else, but I do know Him better than most, and no. I don’t think any of that was His idea.”

“Huh.”

Adam must have made a face that somehow indicated his bemusement, because Josh asked, “What?”

“It’s just… I’ve got a pair of friends. Well, I’m sure you know about them if you know about the Apocawasn’t, and Crowley and Az both refer to God as Her.”

Josh shook his head. “It’s a thing He’s been encouraging lately because the English language doesn’t have a good neuter pronoun, and obviously God is larger than any concept of gender, and He’s not really thrilled with what humans have assumed about Him based on the pronoun. But He doesn’t really care which you use, as long as it’s respectful, and… I had a biological mother. I’ve had quite some time where I’ve been using masculine pronouns, so I’m not going to switch unless He asks me to.”

“But it’s okay that I call Her my grandmother? Because that’s hilarious.”

“Sure. Grandmother, grandfather, granddeity… whatever you want. Long as it’s respectful enough.”

“I’m not sure my mental picture of God in a babushka kerchief and a rocking chair is respectful though.”

“Ah, ‘respectful’ when I say it doesn’t mean what the people who supposedly listen to me mean when they say it. I’m Jewish. If you want to picture God as rocking in a chair and wearing a kerchief, maybe doing Her knitting, creating a planet or two? That’s fine. The respect we’re called on to give to God – and by we, I mean humans, but I don’t think it’s much different for half-humans like you and me – is exactly like the respect you give your grandmother. If your grandmother says something that’s stupid and insensitive, you challenge her, because it was stupid and insensitive. If she has rules that make no sense, you challenge them. If She disowned your brother and most of his friends because he talked back to Her, absolutely you get to call Her on that and tell Her that was a dick move. But you still respect her, because She’s your grandmother. You exist because She gave you life, directly or indirectly.”

Adam thought he had stopped talking about a merely hypothetical grandmother about halfway through that. “Really? You tell God that something She did was a dick move?” He laughed.

“Every chance I get,” Josh said, grinning. “We actually disagree about a lot of things, but He listens to me more than He does to anyone else, I guess. Youngest son syndrome or something.”

Adam had in his life had conversations about ending the world, about life on the planets of Alpha Centauri, and about the management structure of Hell, but this still counted as one of the more surreal conversations he’d ever had. “So. Um. Were you just doing something when I happened to stroll by, or did you actually come here to see me?”

Josh put up his hands. “Guilty, I admit it,” he said. “I knew you were here and I knew you were in a little bit of trouble. I didn’t want to pry enough to find out what, though, so you want to tell me? I can probably help out.”

“I don’t need a miracle. I can do that for myself.”

“Good for you. I don’t do them anymore unless it’s an emergency, either, so I think we’re on the same page about that. What’s wrong?”

Adam sighed. “It’s such a bloody stupid mistake to make. I forgot how big the States are. In particular, this state. I came here to see Pepper at Berkeley, she’s doing her grad studies there… you know my friend Pepper, right?”

“She was there that day, so yes, I do.”

“You weren’t there, though.”

“The angels knew I disapproved of the whole thing and kept interfering with me getting a chance to talk to you, but I definitely checked out the whole thing afterward. So yes, I know of Pepper.”

“Right. And the price for a flight to Los Angeles was so much less than San Francisco, I could afford it myself without asking Mum and Da for money. And I had completely forgot that it’s a three hour drive between the two cities, because seriously? That’s much too much for the same state! Who even drew the boundaries for this state, because it’s ridiculous!”

Josh laughed. “I won’t argue against that. And I think I may have just the thing. Although it might take a miracle of the more mundane variety to get it to actually drive for three hours straight without breaking down, but I do have a pickup truck.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, taking in Josh’s appearance. “I’d have thought some kind of, I don’t know, tiny enviro-friendly electric car would be more your thing.”

Josh snorted. “Do you have any idea how much those things cost? If I had that kind of money, it’d go straight to a soup kitchen, maybe a homeless shelter or two. My pickup’s not the greatest, but it still runs, and it lets me carry furniture donations and things like that.”

“You do some kind of ministry or something?”

“Always,” Josh nodded. “Though not like you’re probably thinking. My day’s over; I’m here on Earth because you are, not for my own sake, so I let humans take the lead. I do volunteer work for several of the local Jewish charities, helping the homeless, the hungry, you know.” He leaned on the wall with one hand. “So. Up for a road trip with your cousin?”

“Uncle.”

“You’re making me feel old.”

“You’re two thousand, I should hope so!” Adam said, grinning.

“Yes, but all my brothers and sisters are billions of years older than me, so by that standard, you and I are practically the same age.” He pushed off the wall. “And speaking of my brothers. Did you know your father is in town?”

Adam went cold. “Wait, what? The Devil is here in Los Angeles?”

“Yes. Running a nightclub, apparently.” Josh put a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “You know, I really think you should meet with him. You shouldn’t completely shut your father out of your life even if you don’t want to be close.”

“He’s not my father,” Adam scowled. “My Da’s the one who taught me to ride a bike and who read stories to me at night and cooked me terrible hash browns when Mum was poorly and couldn’t make supper.”

“Right, I get that,” Josh said. “My dad taught me how to build a house, or a cabinet, and taught me how to ride a donkey, and used to walk me to Temple so he’d know where I was because he said I was going to go anyway so he might as well walk me there. But I also have a Father. It’s okay, you know, to acknowledge more than two parents. Step-parents and adopted parents have been a thing since humanity came into existence.”

“Yeah, well, your Father never appeared to you as a giant monster crawling out of the pavement trying to destroy your entire planet.”

“And I really think you ought to try to meet up with Lucifer and talk to him about that. Put some of those conflicts to bed. He was frequently a pretty terrible person when he was running Hell, but… it’s Hell. It makes people terrible even if they were great to begin with. He’s so much better now that he’s not there anymore.”

“What, do you hang out with him often?”

Josh shook his head. “He doesn’t even know I’m here. I haven’t gone to look him up in person, but… you know how it is. If you’re interested in knowing about a person… sometimes it just happens. That happens to you, too, right?”

Adam nodded slowly. “Yeah. Actually it does.” The thought occurred to him that Josh was the only other person on the planet who might really understand some of Adam’s challenges and sorrows in life. The stress of having to restrain near-omnipotent power, so often, because you wanted to be a human and to fit in with humanity, not to stand above it as some sort of lonely god – or devil. Crowley and Az knew a bit of it, but they’d never been human, and Warlock understood some of the weirdness of Adam’s life but had never had the power to perform miracles.

He made a decision. “If you’re offering, I’ll take you up on that trip to San Francisco, and you can maybe talk me into… meeting my bio-dad. Maybe. No promises.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Josh said.

“But if your car will hold together well enough… I’ve got a friend in the States, out on this coast, but I knew Washington was much too far away for me to visit him without a second plane trip. Maybe we could head up north and see him?” Warlock had fled the East Coast and the influence of his toxic parents as soon as he’d turned of age to do so. Adam had met him once or twice after the Apocawasn’t, when his father had had to come back to England – he hadn’t been the American ambassador anymore but he’d still had reasons to come back – and Crowley and Az had brought him to see the boy who should have been his parents’ son, his quasi-brother, at his insistence. But they hadn’t met in person in a few years; Warlock wouldn’t take money from his parents to fly to England and this was Adam’s first trip to the States.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Adam grinned, remembering something. “Oh yeah. Is there an ice cream place around here? I heard as a kid that America has thirty one ice cream flavors.”

Josh laughed. “Only thirty-one? You’re in for a treat. Yeah, I know where to find the nearest Baskin-Robbins, that’s the chain that advertised about the thirty-one flavors. There’s actually a lot more than that. Though sadly, Baskin-Robbins’ stores don’t generally have all thirty-one at once.” He gestured toward the door. “Come on. It’s kind of a hike. I couldn’t afford to park in the closer lots.”

Adam picked up his satchel and followed Josh. “I don’t mind a walk,” he said.

[suckasstakenames]

Craig and Those Guys Week: Day 1 - The Beach 🏖

“You definitely brought the towels didn’t you Craig?”

“Yes Tweek, for the third time, you saw me put them into the bag.”

Five teenage boys cross the parking lot and make their way towards the beach. It was the weekend and this particular beach was quite the tourist spot, but it was one of the only days of the week in which all of the boys were free. They’d assigned this trip as their monthly event; an event that wasn’t just meeting up at the cafe or hanging out at somebody’s house.

Leading the group was a tall, slender boy. The tallest of the group. This was Craig. His beach attire was pretty basic; he donned navy blue swimming trunks and black sandals. He wore a beige bucket hat over his jet black hair, and covered his blue eyes with blacked out sunglasses. He was carrying a big beach bag, filled with all the essentials. Craig was their ring leader, the centre of the group. Whenever anyone else would talk about their group it would be referred to as his gang.

Trailing closely behind him was a noticeably skinnier boy; Craig’s boyfriend, Tweek. He too wore a bucket hat, white this time, and covered his bony torso with a vest of the same colour. He had untamed wild blonde hair, shooting out from underneath the hat in all different directions. His hand was fiddling with the bottom of his khaki swimming trunks, clearly on edge. His eyes were bagged, but he wasn’t a bad looking guy overall. Tweek’s anxiety around large groups of people meant that he was practically clinging to Craig for dear life.

Not far behind was a more boisterous boy, rambling about his friends’ sense of fashion. Clyde was a little chubby in build, but wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. He wore an open red shirt with a palm tree design on it, and on the bottom half…a pair of black speedos. He even accessorised with some aviators and a shark tooth necklace. He was clearly the most enthusiastic of the group; flicking his chocolate coloured hair in the wind whenever he sensed a female within range.

Next to him was Token, who didn’t try as hard on the fashion side, but still managed to pull off a pair of violet trunks and gold-rimmed sunglasses. He was assigned the role of carrying the parasol. His body was probably the most toned out of the group, but he was cool about it, and wanted to come across as casual as possible to his peers. But that was slightly difficult when you’re the son of a millionaire…and it definitely showed.

The last boy was a brunette, using his crutches to keep up a steady pace with his friends. His ochre coloured trunks were accompanied with a brown baseball cap and a grey t-shirt. This was Jimmy, who had a form of cerebral palsy, yet was one of the funniest guys in their town. He was wearing trainers and had no intention of entering the water at all, simply content with chilling out with his best friends.

The boys eventually reach the beach, finding a spot nearer the back that wasn’t too close to everyone else for Tweek’s sake. Token forcefully stuck the parasol into the sand and opened it, Tweek immediately running underneath. With the palest skin out of them all, he’d coated himself in 3 layers of sunscreen before coming out for the day.

Craig sets down the beach bag, whipping out a pile of folded towels, leaving a couple spare in the bag. “Take your pick.”

Tweek is the first to grab one; a simple striped design.

Clyde was next, opting for the one with the slogan ‘Cool story bro’ on it.

Token passed one to Jimmy that had fruit decorating it, and then took a basic blue one for himself.

Craig was left with the towel with an adorable looking cartoon shark on it, one of which used to belong to his younger sister Tricia. He didn’t seem at all bothered and laid it out next to Tweek’s towel.

“Alright so who’s coming for a splash in a little while?” Clyde enthusiastically asks.

“FUCK no. I’m not gonna be present while you awkwardly try to pick up chicks by the water.” Craig protests.

“Oh Craig,” Clyde tuts, “You should be more supportive of me!”

“Yeah well, I’m not supportive of those speedos.”

Token chuckles, “Again with the speedos…you really aren’t a fan are you?”

“Dude, look at him. He looks like a middle aged dad who flirts with teenagers.”

Clyde pouts, “HEY…at least I’m not flexing a damn fisherman hat!”

“Nghh, not cool Clyde! Don’t drag me into this too!!” Tweek contributes, awkwardly tugging on his hat.

“Firstly, it’s called a bucket hat. Secondly, fuck you. It keeps us cool.” says Craig.

“Appearance vs p-p-practicality. A truly difficult decision f-for sure.” Jimmy jokes.

“Who cares about how good you look when you’re frying to death?!” says Tweek.

“Chill out Tweek, we’re not frying! We’re just sun-kissed.“ Clyde teases. Token pushes him playfully, shaking his head and smiling.

Jimmy looks out over the crowd of people, stopping when he sees someone he recognises. An auburn-haired boy of their age was sat reading a book next to his mother, who was watching his father and younger brother throw a ball back and forth to each other.

“H-hey, isn’t that K-K-Kyle Broflovski and his f-family over there?”

Token squints his eyes in the same direction, “…oh shit, it is! Shall we go say hi?”

“What?! I’m not going all the way over there!!” Tweek protests.

Craig lies back on his towel. “If Ike sees Clyde he’ll just annoy him with pirate songs again.”

“I don’t need reminding of that you guys!!” Clyde whines.

“Kyle looks pretty bored…” says Token.

“Damn…and S-S-Sheila is looking pretty…th-th-th-thick.” Jimmy stutters, watching as Sheila rubbed herself with sunscreen.

“Gross Jimmy, put your boner away.” says Craig.

“Relax b-buddy! Only her m-mother could love t-that face.” he jests.

Token gets up, “I’m gonna go say hi, Craig come with!”

“Ugh fine but we’re not staying long.” Craig groans.

“Bring us back ice cream will ya!” Clyde declares, pointing at the ice cream van nearby.

“Anything for you, princess.” Token jokes, before helping Craig up by the hand and wandering off towards Kyle.

~

They quickly return with 5 ice cream cones, one with toffee sauce since Tweek likes toffee.

Obviously, Clyde had something to say about this. “Uhhhh, where’s my toffee sauce??”

“Go and get some from the van if you want it, you lazy twat.” Craig says, handing the cone to Tweek. Tweek smiles warmly up at him before thanking him. Clyde takes his cone from Token, pulls a sour face and sticks his tongue out at Craig before heading towards the van.

After not even 2 minutes of receiving his ice cream, Tweek has a sudden large twitch and accidentally drops the cone onto his leg. Clyde bursts out with laughter, while Craig grabs a spare towel from the beach bag and helps him to clean up.

“I will literally pay you half of my w-w-wage if you lick some of that.” Jimmy jests.

“WHAT?! Are you nuts?!” Tweek yells.

“That’s a comment I’d expect from Clyde, not you Jimmy.” Craig retorts. “Fuck off.”

“What if it was Token’s wage?” Clyde suggests.

“Not even for Token’s wage.” says Craig.

“You guys, my wage isn’t that much different than yours!” Token objects. He’s not wrong; he only earns about 3 or 4 more dollars than the rest of them. However he serves wealthier customers and the tips tend to be double, even triple the average waiter gets.

~

Once Craig finishes cleaning up a very embarrassed Tweek, and returns to the van to buy him a replacement ice cream, the five of them lie on their respective towels and sunbathe quietly in each others company. So quiet in fact, that none of them realise until 20 minutes later that Clyde had fallen fast asleep. Only when he suddenly lets out a loud snore, waking himself up in the process, does he attract the other’s attention.

“Jesus Clyde, scared the shit out of me.” Craig snaps.

“The heat must’ve knocked me out…” says Clyde. “I need to cool down…time for a swim!”

Almost instantly, as if he hadn’t just woken up, Clyde immediately springs to his feet and flings his shirt off. “Who’s coming??”

“I will. The water looks fresh.” Token gets up a little slower, taking off his shades and placing them on his towel.

“Tweek?”

“Ngh, maybe later…” Tweek replies. And by ‘maybe later’, he meant ‘probably not at all’.

“No worries bud.” Clyde reassures. “Jimmy? Oh yeah Jimmy said he wasn’t swimming today…Craig?”

The two standing look over to Craig, who’s very clearly pretending he didn’t hear them. Clyde bends over him, casting a shadow over his face.

“Craig? Yoohooooo?”

“What?”

“Are you coming swimming with us?” Token asks.

“Nah.”

Token rolls his eyes, exchanging a disappointed look with Clyde, before leaning in and whispering something into his ear. Clyde grows a mischievous grin and looks over at Craig, who is completely oblivious.

Craig is a slim guy and relatively lightweight, so it wasn’t a problem for Clyde and Token to grab him by the legs and arms and lift him up abruptly.

“Wh-? What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Taking you for a dip.” Clyde replies nonchalantly.

“I hate you both so much, fucking put me down!”

Craig wriggles a little in protest, his hat falling off in the process, but it’s not long before he gives in and simply lets the other two carry him over to the water.

Tweek and Jimmy laugh as they watch them go.

“Ngh…am I an unsupportive boyfriend if I just sit back and let them pick on him like that?” Tweek jokes.

“It makes a ch-change from Craig p-p-picking on everyone else, I suppose.” Jimmy shrugs.

They watch on as Clyde and Token count down from 3, and on zero, Craig is slam dunked into the water. He resurfaces flicking his hair and immediately targets Clyde by jumping onto his shoulders and sending him underneath the water. The antics continue as Tweek smiles from afar, happy and tranquil. Seeing his boyfriend and his friends messing around and having fun made him feel so relaxed and carefree, and distracted him from any worries he may have.

He sighs with contentment. At least he didn’t have to worry about being alone. His friends were always there for each other and supported each other an equal amount. And days like this just proved that the five of them were closer than ever.

—

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - thirteen

notes: hey y’all it’s been a hot second i think. but im still here! hope you all enjoy :) also don’t forget, if you’d like to be notified every time i update tempest, feel free to leave a comment to be added to my taglist!

contains: some swearing, angst of course

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 3.3k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

MARIN RETRACTED THE ENERGY FROM AROUND HER FACE ONCE SHE REALIZED THE AIR ON TITAN WAS BREATHABLE. The first thing that popped into her brain was, did we land on Mars? But then she remembered the lurch into hyperspace (at least, she figured that was what it was, and she refused to think of it as anything else), and dismissed the idea.

But apart from the clearly dilapidated city this had once been, Titan was the exact same color as all the pictures of Mars had led her to believe—soil the color of bricks, dust floating through the air and covering every surface it landed on in a thick blanket of clay particles. Marin sneezed.

Peter looked around in awe, then she saw his gaze land on the alien girl with the antennae, still wrapped in his webbing. He left Marin’s side to approach her, and with nothing else to do while Tony ruminated, Quill searched the terrain, and Dr. Strange hovered over a rock with green energy floating around him, Marin chose to follow Peter.

“—it should dissolve soon, unless you want me to cut you out,” he was saying. With a murmured assent, Peter started cutting the girl out of his webs. “I’m Peter, by the way.” Once she was free, he stuck out a hand in greeting. The girl stared down at the proffered hand, then back to Peter’s face.

“I am Mantis.” She bowed slightly, completely ignoring Peter’s outstretched hand.

“Right,” Peter nodded back, lowering his hand awkwardly.

“I’m Marin.” She offered up a bit too harshly. Marin wasn’t used to resentment, but she didn’t like that the alien knew about her past. Did she know of it, or was she just forcing me to remember? Either way, Marin felt shifty standing next to her.

The alien—Mantis, an appropriate name for the fact she looked like a kind of insect—bowed again. Grateful the girl didn’t know Earthly customs; Marin wasn’t eager to make contact with her skin again.

Despite the unease she still felt around the alien, she was at least moved to make amends for her prematurely aggressive actions. “I’m sorry for attacking you.”

“I am also sorry for attacking you.” Even though it could’ve come across sounding slightly parroted, Marin saw the sincerity in her large, black eyes. Her antennae even drooped a bit, reminding Marin of a kicked puppy. She didn’t like the guilt that flooded her system.

“Oh yeah,” Peter said to Mantis, sounding interested. “What did you do anyway? All I saw was Marin put her hands on you and the next second she was on the ground, squirming.” Marin bristled, not liking how Peter described her… session? Was that what she could call it? Either way, Marin didn’t like that he saw how utterly incapacitated she’d become; whether it was a blow to her pride or dignity, she couldn’t tell. Or were they kind of the same thing?

“I can experience others’ emotions, sometimes the memories that are associated with the feelings.” Mantis explained, sounding rather robotic, as if English wasn’t her first language (which, in hindsight, it most definitely wasn’t. Distantly, Marin wondered how common English was in the universe, or if the translation was due to some sort of universal device.)

“No way! You’ve got empathy powers?!” Peter was growing visibly excited, vibrating slightly and bouncing on his heels. “So do I! Did you get bit by a radioactive mantis or something? Because—”

Marin lingered to the side, completely ignored. Peter seemed to either forget that this alien had attacked Marin so viciously, or disregard it. But even with this reasoning, Marin failed to convict herself. So why was she feeling so… jealous?

Nevertheless, Marin felt like an outsider, and after almost two years of getting over that fear, having it come back and hitting her like a blow to the stomach, Marin walked away. Not that either of them noticed, which was another blow, more like a slap to the cheek.

She instead approached Tony, who was in the middle of talking to Quill.

“—we’ve got one advantage: he’s coming to us. We’ll use it.” Nodding decisively, he turned and paced. “All right, I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one.” He announced to the team. Marin looked over her shoulder to Peter, who was raptly observing Mantis bounce up and down, slightly floating due to the lower gravitational field of the planet. Marin’s stomach twisted.

“It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need.” Peter was starting to approach them, still glancing back at Mantis. “Definitely don’t wanna dance with this guy, we just want the gauntlet.”

“So we’ve gotta figure out a—”

Marin started to process a plan, when Tony interrupted her to chastise the buff dude.

“Are you yawning?” He looked offended. “In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said ‘We need a plan’.”

“Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.” Tony said grumpily to no one in particular.

“See, ‘not winging it’ isn’t really what they… do.” Quill said, strangely, as if he wasn’t a part of their team.

Marin scoffed. “So what the hell do they do?”

“Kick names, take ass.” Mantis said, so assuredly that Marin had to think twice about the logistics of the statement.

Looking at Tony, she could tell that he was beginning to seriously regret coming to Titan. “All right, just get over here please.”

The six of them gathered in a loose circle, Marin standing closer to Tony than she did Quill, who was on each of her sides. Marin locked eyes with Peter for a moment, but glanced away, feeling an uncomfortable knot growing in her chest the longer she looked at him. She rubbed her chest inconspicuously as Tony tried to lay down the basic guidelines of a plan, trying to dispel the weird feeling.

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe.” The buff alien said, catching Marin’s attention.

“What dance-off?” Tony was bewildered, but Marin chanced a shared look with Peter, who seemed on the same wavelength as her.

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” He chuckled, and despite her sudden unease, Marin felt herself sharing a secret smile with him. Back when they saw each other almost every weekend, Peter took it upon himself to show Marin all of the cheesy 80s and 90s movies, after discovering that between training and school, she’d never gotten around to seeing them.

One night in particular, about two months after moving to the Tower, it’d snowed so bad that Peter was stuck there for the night, where they’d gotten through 16 Candles, Taxi Driver, St. Elmo’s Fire, and Footloose. By the time Footloose had come on, it was nearing four o’clock in the morning, and they’d run out of popcorn and couldn’t be hassled to microwave some more. So they’d just sat there, Peter humming along to the songs, and Marin just watching him from the other side of the expansive couch.

‘It’s catchy,’ he’d said to her once the credits started rolling, looking genuinely content but bashful at being caught singing along, ‘But it’s not the greatest movie in the world or anything.’

“Exactly like Footloose!” said Quill, pleased that someone had understood his reference. “Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

Marin grinned. “It never was.”

Peter’s eyes flickered over to her, his smile dropping into something softer, warmer. Marin felt the heat rise from her chest, crawling up her neck and flushing her cheeks. She gave him another smile before surrendering to the urge to look away before he noticed her blush.

“Don’t encourage this, all right?” Tony stepped closer to her, blocking her view of Peter. Marin rolled her eyes. “We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here.”

Now that was a reference she didn’t understand.

“’Flash Gordon’?” Quill spoke, forcing Tony to turn so he could look at him. “By the way, that’s a compliment. Don’t forget, I’m half-human. So that 50% of me that’s stupid…” He looked to make sure Tony was following. “That’s 100% you.”

It was infallible logic to Marin, although she was pretty sure that this guy was more than fifty-percent stupid.

“Your math is… blowing my mind.”

“Excuse me?” Said Mantis, who was sounding worried. “But does your friend often do that?”

Everyone turned to see Dr. Strange, who, still glowing a sheer sheen of green light, was fidgeting at weird angles, almost looking as if he was possessed.

As Marin hurried over to get a closer look, Dr. Strange’s head was twitching at an accelerated speed.

Just as she’d approached, he’d emerged from whatever trance he’d been in with a pained shout. Marin and Tony helped to steady him on the rock he toppled on. Dr. Strange gasped for air, looking around frantically.

“Are you okay?” Marin grabbed his arm, holding him from thrashing about.

“You’re back, you’re all right.”

“Hey, what was that?” Peter asked.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures,” Dr. Strange explained, sounding out-of-breath. “To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.” He blinked rapidly, looking more shaken that she’d seen him. Granted, she’d only known him for a few hours, but from what Marin gathered, Dr. Strange seemed quite level-headed and not like the type to be distressed under pressure. It wasn’t as alarming as finding Tony broken down on the ship, but it was still unnerving to Marin.

“How many did you see?”

“14 million, six hundred and five.”

“How many did we win?” Marin asked. She braced herself, sensing a strong feeling of disturbed energy emanating from Dr. Strange.

The wizard took a bracing inhale. He shifted his eyes away from her, before settling heavily on Tony. “One.”

The silence was deafening in Marin’s ears. Her focus went fuzzy as she tried to calculate the sheer odds of winning this.

At some point, everyone started yelling, but Marin was still stuck on the ground, hands now empty as Dr. Strange had positioned himself in the debate, brushing off Quill’s attempts to weasel the truth from him.

She ran over the statistics in her head. There were only three Stones Thanos needed—the Soul Stone, which was at an unknown location; the Mind Stone, which was currently somewhere on Earth, if the rest of the Avengers were ever able to locate Vision; and the Time Stone, in Dr. Strange’s possession. Three more Stones and he’d be able to wipe out trillions—and one of the only things stopping it from happening was this chaotic group of powered individuals.

Marin clenched her eyes shut, letting her body curl in on itself as she desperately flipped through attack plans in her head. There was little to no water on this planet, and she’d drank all of her water back on the ship, so her hydrokinetic powers were out. All she had in her arsenal were her energy manipulation powers, and they were still uncontrolled, at best. She’d managed to control her flight abilities well enough, but she still struggled heavily with her attack powers.

The touch to her forearm startled her enough for her to activate her energy, though they relaxed at the sight of a concerned Tony Stark with his arms braced in surrender.

Once relaxed, he took the seat next to her.

“It’s gonna be okay, kid.” He said, even though he hardly sounded convinced himself. “We all… well, most of us know what we’re doing.”

Marin laughed dryly. “Yeah, and who’s that? Because all I see are a bunch of fucked-up misfits trying to fit together like pieces belonging to seven different puzzles.” Marin tugged a rough hand through her hair, now reaching inches below her shoulders and bangs grown long. “Let’s see, we’ve got: one rich guy in a fancy suit, one wizard-slash-doctor with a seriously messed-up superiority complex, an alien with feely-powers, another alien that only has enhanced strength in his arsenal, one half-wit with a mad vendetta the size of Texas, one spider-kid, and one… one mutant that can’t control the only power that she’s got a chance at defeating this guy with.” Marin was flushed by the end of her rant, panting hard. She realized that her hands were beginning to glow, so she flexed them, forcing her energy to crawl back.

“Wow,” said Tony, stoically. “You done harping?”

Marin grumbled an assent but felt the anger dissipate nonetheless.

“Good. Because… well, I’d have to agree with you about a lot of those observations. For one, Drax and Quill aren’t the brightest.” Marin rolled her eyes. So that was the buff dude’s name. “Neither is Mantis, for that matter. But they’ve got something we don’t have—experience. And I know what you’re gonna say, I’ve been doing this for years, too. But I’ve also never been to space—this Quill guy? He’s half-god. Like, his father was a planet.” At her inquisitive look, he explained with a shrug, “He likes to blabber.”

He repositioned himself so he was facing her more. “Anyway, my point is, these guys may not be as mechanically or strategically intelligent as us, but they know Thanos—they have direct experience with fighting him. Us? Me? All I’ve done is fight regular alien drones. And one demi-god, but this… we need them, Mare.”

Marin glanced up at the nickname. He didn’t use it often, sticking to her full name or ‘kid’, only sometimes ‘Tempest’. Tony had become something of a father-figure to Marin, something she’d never really had, even when her dad was alive. Tony knew this, and she thought that was why he’d pulled her under his wing. Even Peter didn’t seem as close to him anymore, seeing as he lived hours away.

“And as for you?” Tony poked her shoulder, causing a smile to creep onto her lips. “I have all the faith that you’ll do whatever you can to stop him. You’ve never been faced with a greater threat, but… I think you’re ready. Truly.”

Marin’s smile grew, settling into something private and warm. “Thanks, Tony.”

“That being said…” Tony continued, looking hesitant. “Your attacks still drain a lot of your power, and we need you to save as much as you can for when the time comes.

“The plan is, we need to get the gauntlet off of his arm. That’s our best bet. We can do that if we work together—Quill and Drax getting him to the ground, Pete, Dr. Strange and I keeping his arms apart, so we can keep his hand open to prevent him from using the Stones. Mantis will keep him calm using her empath control, and you’re gonna drain his energy to keep him weak.”

Marin’s eyes widened. “I don’t—but I’ve never—!”

“I know, but that’s why we need you to stay down until it’s time. We need as much of your energy as possible if we’re gonna win this.”

Marin searched his eyes. “Did Dr. Strange tell you any of this?”

Tony sighed, confessing, “No. He’s refusing to give us even the tiniest hints. All he’s admitting to is that we need to try and get the gauntlet off of Thanos. From there, he says that if he tells us, it won’t happen.”

“So… how…” Marin grunted frustratedly, rubbing her face with her hands. “How the hell are we supposed to win this thing?”

Tony smiled, clapping her shoulder. “Teamwork.”

Marin sighed. “Of course.”

+++

After Tony left to go discuss the plan with the others, Marin didn’t move from her seat. She figured she should’ve been doing the meditations Natasha taught her, to hone into her powers and focus on controlling them, but Marin was so frazzled, she felt that if she even attempted bringing out her powers, they would go haywire and she’d be drained even before the battle started.

This was always the hardest part of missions. Even back in the X-Men, when the only missions they went on were busting drug deals and recruiting new mutants, it was the waiting that drove Marin crazy. The not-knowing but anticipating the action. It was somehow worse, now, because she knew that the threat was far greater than petty drug dealers and mutant adolescents.

She could feel the energy bubbling inside her, fritzing her nerves. She felt jittery, her exposed skin buzzing like an active wire. She jumped up, pacing, trying to calm herself down.

As she went to turn, she bumped into a body, startling her and almost making her energy flash. “Jesus, Parker!”

“Sorry!” He jumped back, avoiding her skin. That stung, even though she knew it was probably the most logical reaction. Still, irrationally hurt by his recoil, she wrapped her arms protectively around her chest, tucking her trembling hands beneath her underarms.

Realizing his error, he automatically reached out, grabbing onto her triceps with firm, steady hands. His grip grounded her, the warmth of his skin somehow permeating both the metallic fabric of his suit and the lycra-type microparticles of hers. Almost immediately, Marin felt herself steadying.

She reflexively uncrossed her arms as she stared into Peter’s eyes, which were darkened with worry. “Mare, you all right?”

Not bothering to hide it, she exhaled, shaking her head minimally. “No, I don’t think so.”

He pulled her into him, folding her into his embrace. Marin, now just short enough, tucked her head under Peter’s chin, resting her cheek on the cooled metal spanning his chest. She wrapped her arms solidly around his waist. Through the suit, she could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart, and the two of them stayed silent, allowing themselves to revel in the comfort of a familiar pair of arms.

After a moment, when her breathing steadied, and she could feel Peter’s heart to quicken just slightly, they pulled away slowly.

“Better?” Peter asked, searching her eyes, tone free of any vanity that would have sounded in anyone else’s mouth.

Marin nodded, eyes roaming idly over his face. It’d been so long since she’d been this close to Peter, and she could see some of the changes in his expression, where she couldn’t see in the darkness of the ship. He had a darker smattering of freckles, his eyes creased only slightly where his skin folded when he smiled. He didn’t look old, like with wrinkles, but his face showed a new sense of maturity she hadn’t noticed before; where there was a subtle roundness in his cheeks, skin stretched tighter over bone, exposing sharper cheekbones and a stronger jaw. She noticed the muscle in his jaw clench, his thin lips moving over teeth like he was chewing on words he couldn’t bring himself to say. His hair was longer, it flowed from his head in waves like a sea of melted chocolate, curling slightly where it wrapped behind his slightly stuck-out ears. She remembered when they seemed too big for his head, but they suited him now, only a little noticeable as they framed his chiseled face.

The only thing that remained completely unchanged were his eyes. Honey brown and so expressive; she could read every emotion that flashed across them. Flecks of gold lined the darkness of the pupil, brightening the longer she looked into them.

Something rolled in her stomach as she studied him, aching like a cramp. Her chest ached like someone had taken her heart and gripped it tight, and she yearned to discover what exactly was making her feel this way. She’d never felt anything like it before—only something similar to when she remembered Lucy and James with an aching fondness, but this… this was twenty times stronger than that. It was like her soul was simultaneously being lit on fire and brushed by the frigid grip of liquid nitrogen.

She wasn’t sure what she would’ve said, but the words were squeezed out of her, “Pete, I—”

“Everyone into position!” Tony hollered, breaking Marin and Peter out of their shared trance. They reluctantly backed away from each other, only seeming to come to attention at the realization that this was it. There was no more waiting, no more anticipation.

Thanos was coming.

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99 @pushmeinablackhole @demi-starzak @-thatgirloverthere- @yourwonderbelle​  @silver-winter-wolf​

[izzy-b-hands]

Christmas Morning

A Soft Xmas morning fic with Sledge and Snafu for my friend @peachessir! Thank you for the prompt, and I hope this fic makes your day better!!

This song came up while I was writing, and I feel it fits p well with the emotion of this fic, so here it is for y’all as well!: https://open.spotify.com/track/5b43XehPlGYoOGjl9AncUV?si=pVQhOYuaQiyh-PPLL6WgYQ

re: part of this fic, here’s my reference for it. Also just a cool reference to look through, tbh: https://vintagedancer.com/1940s/1940s-mens-accessories-history/

For reference, this is set as like, their second holiday back home after the war. So they’ve got a routine kind of, but home still doesn’t necessarily feel like home yet. Written sort of out of my other hc where I have them in Maryland for a bit after the war,in this one they are already in Mobile, having taken over Eugene’s parents old house as their home, his parents have a new house elsewhere in town. Still keeping all their pets though because...well, I want to lol. 

Okay, that bit of housekeeping done, below the cut is the fic!

The bed was shaking, violently, as he woke. 

“Get your ass up, we got presents to open!” 

Eugene attempted to mumble the thoughts in his head, from ‘but didn’t we open everything at my parent’s house last night?’ to ‘is four o’clock in the fucking morning??’, but was too half-asleep to manage it as Snafu helped him downstairs, the cats and dog traipsing after them, meowing and barking for an early breakfast. 

“Okay kids, simmer! Lemme get your papa sat down here and then I’ll get you fed, let you outside for a bit,” Snafu soothed as he led Eugene to the couch near their Christmas tree. 

He blinked to try and wake up as Snafu went off to tend the children, and looked to the tree. 

Presents. Why were there more presents? Not many, only four actually, but they’d taken everything they’d bought for each other over to his parent’s last night, to be opened on Christmas Eve. Today, Christmas Day, was their recovery day after having been around family so much. 

“You ready?” Snafu dropped onto the couch beside him, nearly in his lap. 

“I think so? But where did those-” 

“You’ll see once you start opening,” Snafu interrupted, and went over the tree, nearly tripping on the edges of the too-long open bathrobe he wore over his pajamas. “Here, you go first.” 

Eugene barely caught the gaudily wrapped box., and read the tag. “To Sledgehammer from...Burgie? How the hell-” 

Snafu only smiled at him expectantly, so he tore into the paper and opened the box. 

Inside were two of the nicest crystal glasses he’d ever seen, engraved with their names, and a note: ‘I know you might not be able to have a church wedding, but y’all are essentially married now and deserve a nice wedding gift. My pa is the one who did the engraving, he wishes you all the best as well. When you two next come out to Texas, wrap these up and bring ‘em with, and we’ll have a toast to you both, and to being home. All my love, Burgie.’

“Next one’s for me, from one of the...” he sighed, and his voice shook just a bit. “From one of the boys I fought with in Gloucester. His mother sent it along this year, said it was meant for last but she...she wasn’t ready to send it yet. Guess he’d had her save some things, so he could send ‘em to us after we all got home.” 

Eugene carefully set the box with the glasses in the kitchen, away from where the cats liked to jump, and joined him on the floor near the tree, wrapping him in a gentle hug. 

“This asshole,” Snafu laughed, even as the tears dripped down his face. “Look.” 

He took the box from Snafu, and bit back a laugh. It was a set of poker chips, and a note: ‘Next time you can come around my neck of the woods, we’re gonna play again, and I’m gonna win this time. You just got lucky, last time. Can’t wait to see you again, Snafu.’

“Nah, you won buddy,” Snafu said softly, his eyes somewhere else as they filled again with tears, and he set the box near the tree. “He should have too, I really did just get lucky that game. God I miss him.” 

He held onto Snafu for the next few minutes, letting him sob and remember. He hadn’t gotten to meet this particular company member, but he wished he had. 

Snafu pulled away from him, and handed over another box. “Next one is for both of us, technically. But I want you to open it.” 

He took the light box, so light it seemed nothing would be in it, and opened it carefully. 

He nearly dropped it then, but held on with shaking hands. 

It was a letter. From Ack Ack, to both of them. Talking about how while neither of them had come straight out with how they felt about each other, he was glad they weren’t really hiding it otherwise, and he promised them safety, from other soldiers and anyone who might say anything to him about it. How he knew war was pain and loss and fear, but he was glad all the same it had brought them together, and he hoped they’d be happy together once they made it home, because he knew in his heart they would.

Snafu was crying again when he looked up from the letter. “Read it before I wrapped it. Burgie found it, and saved it when they were packing up Ack Ack’s things to send home. He sent it along with the glasses, and asked me to make sure it was a separate gift. Said Ack Ack would have wanted it that way.” 

They fell into each other’s arms again, openly weeping. It was a wound that they both knew would never fully heal, none of the losses would. But it was still so open and fresh now, that as wonderful as it was to have more of Ack Ack’s words, it almost hurt just as much, because he would never get to say them to them, never meet them in a city in the States for a drink and reminiscing. 

Once they’d both settled again, holding back the rest of the tears, pushing the hurt back down to where it usually sat, Snafu took the letter and walked to the desk in the corner of the living room. He pulled a frame from the drawer of it, and placed the letter in it. 

“Bought this for it as soon as I got Burgie’s stuff in the mail. Wanted to wait till you’d seen it too before putting it up somewhere though. Can you imagine what he’d say, if he knew we were hangin’ his letter up? He’d rag on us for ages,” Snafu sniffed, but smiled as he brought the letter back over, and settled it on one of the spare nails in the wall near the entrance of the living room that they’d not yet managed to fill. 

“He would,” Eugene managed a laugh, and though it hurt it felt good all the same. “Wish he could see it.” 

“Me too,” Snaf sighed, and went back to grab the last present. “You get to open this one too.” 

“This is from you,” Eugene smiled. “You already spoiled the hell outta me, what else did you possibly get me?” 

“Something that I didn’t have with me overseas, but that I wanted to give you. Part of courtin’ your cute ass, that I finally get to do, even though we’re past that.” 

The box was small, and gorgeously wrapped. How on earth Snafu had even found the paper, Eugene didn’t know. He notoriously hated the shops as it got close to the holiday, but all he could envision was Snafu having gone in specifically to find the blue and white paper, with artfully drawn snowflakes on it. He half-hated to tear it, but he was also curious as could be, and Snafu was clearly just as excited. 

He opened it carefully as he could, and opened the box. 

“Had my family in New Orleans send it to me. One of the only things I left there. Shoulda heard them on the phone, going on about how they knew I’d never give it to a girl like the other boys did. But I finally found the person who’s supposed to have it,” Snafu said. “It ain’t much, but-” 

Eugene interrupted him with a kiss, before returning to the box, which held Snafu’s ID bracelet. It had been and as far as he knew for some still was a common thing for a man to give to his girl, to show they were together and that it wasn’t a passing fling. And him and Snafu certainly were no passing fling. 

He put on the bracelet, then gave Snafu another kiss. “Be right back.” 

“Where are you goin’?” 

“Gimme a minute!” Eugene called back down as he found his bracelet, and jogged back downstairs, dodging the cats as they trotted by him. 

Snafu took the ID bracelet from him with a reverent look. “This...this is big. Everyone’ll know. I mean, I think most of ‘em know already in town or suspect and everybody’s kind enough to keep any thoughts to themselves, but-” 

The tears were back again, happy tears this time as Snafu put on the bracelet. 

“I know,” Eugene interrupted. “I know...we have to be careful. But most everyone knows us round here now, and we’ve been fine. So I want them to know now. If I’m gonna be wearing yours, I want you wearing mine, along with our rings, and I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

It was half warm embrace, half tackle as Snafu climbed into his lap, nearly tipping him over with the enthusiasm of his movements, shrugging off his robe as he kissed Eugene like it was all he knew how to do. 

Eugene fussed with his own robe and pajama top, trying to get them off and tossed behind him to soften the hardwood floor somewhat as he lay back, pulling Snafu with him. 

In a few moments they were down to just their underwear and the bracelets and their rings, the jewelry glinting in the soft morning light from the sun just starting to rise, and Eugene thought if he would ever see an angel in his life, then it would look like Snafu did now. Warm and soft and transcendent, moaning every time Eugene ran his hands through his curls, sighing with every kiss, heated skin melting against his own. 

By the time they’d finally paused enough to toss aside their underwear, they were both too close for much more, Eugene knew that for sure. In the way Snafu rutted against him, whining sweetly, whispering love and admiration in his ear as he left hickeys on his neck. In the way he wanted nothing more than to come across Snafu’s stomach and to feel Snafu come on his, to reach that high together and lay in the heat of the moment after. 

He didn’t have to wait long for it, between their continued feverish kissing and roaming hands and the occasional nip on his chest and shoulder from Snafu (who loved nothing more than leaving marks and having marks left on him.) It was perfect in its timing, both of them coming within a moment of each other, Snafu moaning into his shoulder as his hips and cock crashed against Eugene’s, while Eugene used a hand to pull them as close together as he could. 

It was silent then. The cats and dog happy moving about the house on their own, no cars on the road outside. Just the sunlight streaming in, and their limbs intertwined as they came down together, kissing gently. It was another world, and Eugene never wanted to leave it, to look anywhere other than Snafu’s gorgeous eyes. 

For the next few minutes at least, he knew he didn’t have to. Snafu was clearly just as comfortable and enamored with the moment, smiling and running a hand through Eugene’s hair while the other pulled him near, though they were about as close as any two bodies could be. But it was never quite close enough for them, and if closer ever existed he knew they’d jump on it in a heartbeat. 

“This was a good Christmas, wasn’t it?” Snafu asked, breaking the silence. 

“It was,” Eugene sighed. “Know what I’m lookin’ forward to, though?” 

“Can’t be cleanin’ up what we just did,” Snafu smiled. “Only downside to doin’ anything down here. Least we had your robe down for part of this.” 

Eugene nodded. “True. But I’m lookin’ forward to havin’ more good Christmases like this with you.” 

“Me too,” Snafu replied, snuggling close. “You know we can’t fall asleep down here like this, right? I’m gonna get up in a minute, get us cleaned up.” 

“Sure,” Eugene chuckled as he wrapped an arm around Snafu, and watched Snafu’s eyes flutter shut, fighting to keep himself awake. “I’ll wake you in ten.” 

“Mmhm,” was Snafu’s only response as they snuggled amongst the torn wrapping paper in the sun, warm and happy.