#Literally though what’s another recipe gonna do? Make the world WORSE?!?

[crushed-oranged-angered]

“the internet doesn’t need another chocolate chip cookie recipe” says WHO?!? I need another chocolate chip cookie recipe! I need another chocolate chip cookie recipe ALWAYS! I will make them all don't worry about it! Chocolate chip cookies are amazing they are joy

[the-scrappy-stinger]

Okay I'm bored, let's check on KitKat Jesus.

Hoo boy...

Okay let's back up a little. The arc isn't juuust over yet: Bad Big Bad Boss whose name I can't be bothered to remember is forgiven! Tentatively. So it's back to work for everybody.

KitKat has decided that they key to saving (DOESN'T look it up) Goryokaku-tei is to go back to its roots as the first restaurant in the area to serve delicious high-quality curry rice. And apparently the key ingredient is... whale meat.

God damn it Japan... he says it's because Japan ate a lot of it after World War II but... aaaagh, it gets even worse, because it's not even going to be the same recipe every time!

This sounds like disaster! But it was KitKat's idea, so it's perfect, of course.

KitKat makes his way out of the restaurant and onto better pastures, marking the ACTUAL start of a new arc, which starts with-

Japan making fun of American imported meat, which comes up weirdly a lot in the manga I read, but anyway-

We head out to another restaurant! And guess what?

There's an uppity celebrity chef who thinks he's better than his customers. What a surprise. This is Makoto, and he's 20 years old, and he's smarter than everyone else, apparently. If customers complain, critique, or even just get full and don't finish their food, he bans them from his restaurant.

His restaurant, which is ANOTHER branch of Goryokaku-tei.

The ultimate evil of food is franchising, people. KitKat said it himself.

And so KitKat's on his way...

Somewhere else.

Oooh I remember this one... this one's gonna be another long-runner.

KitKat eats the food at Sleepy-Eyed Guy's place and finds... it's good! It's actually good! The guy isn't a bad chef at all! He's got skills and cares about customers! Just not the lobby.

And the reason...

He's Makoto's dad. Makoto got hired by Goryokaku and it broke his heart, so he got really into gambling and is about to close the shop to get a job at a competing place, Hakurai-tei. KitKat can't take a Goryokaku thing sitting down. Literally.

Because the next day he eats there, and then gets right up to talk shit to Makoto. Except the manager of the place gets to him first, not that he has much to say, it's mostly just padding to catch up people who are picking up the manga for the first time.

Makoto and KitKat are like "grrrr" at each other, and Makoto's dad takes the job at the competing restaurant which, surprise, is run by greedy capitalists who want to rule the culinary world of... (checks) Kobe.

Man this manga's repetitive when you binge it...

Anyway, KitKat accepts the offer to take Makoto down a few pegs- I mean teach him the true meaning of cooking or whatever, which means a Spaghetti cookoff!

Beeteedubs Napolitan has always sounded gross to me. You really do take spaghetti and toss it in ketchup and bell peppers with added, like, little hot dogs and stuff. Makoto makes a carbonara.

And wins the cook-off.

KitKat is kicked out of the kitchen and forced to work at the OTHER high-class gourmet restaurant in town, Hark- ush- the other one, which happens to be staffed with all the guys he was punching in the face at the beginning of this story arc.

Karma's a bitch, ain't it, KitKat?

Makoto's dad is watching out for him though. While they finish some grunt work together, KitKat bemoans that nobody liked his cheap ketchup and weenie spaghetti. And Makoto's dad is like "No shit, man, people's tastes change. You can't think that your opinion is the absolute right." and KitKat's like "yeah I fucked up."

Makoto's dad is a cool dude.

Too bad he fuckin' dies.

KitKat's renewed confidence allows him to take over the kitchen while Makoto's dad is down for the count. And he does so good... that the evil managers fire Makoto's dad.

SO uh... thanks for that, Kitkat.

But Makoto's dad begs for KitKat to bring his son to his senses, and to do that... they're gonna have another cooking battle! On a BOAT!

Meanwhile, while KitKat's running the kitchen, he decides that he's gonna shit all over that one burly dude who was punching him both in the middle AND the beginning of this arc. So guess what?

He gets fucking stabbed in the arm.

And then is not going to the hospital OR the police, because that would mean they forfeit the cooking contest for some reason. He is instead just gonna do it with his arm stabbed.

This guy has serious problems.

Padding padding padding 'til the showdown on the boat. Just a bunch of montages of the chefs preparing, including KitKat having to cook left-handed because his ARM GOT STABBED. THEY ON A BOAT.

With international judges! So the cook-off begin-

Both of these chefs have serious problems.

Meanwhile Makoto is... showboating.

Just throwing down here that the boat will turn right or left depending on who wins. Okay moving on, Makoto serves steak, it's very good, yes.

I swear I'm not leaving anything out but pretty manga panels.

(goes to put an example)

I'M OUT OF PICTURES!!!!

You know what? Fuckin' cliffhanger! Continued in part two!

Talley so far: 11 chapters and still not concluded!!!

[optimist-pine]

The rise turtles react to the reader being a bad chef?

A/n: Thanks for the request!

Word Count: 622

Warnings: none

Leo:

• Leo's not too great of a cook himself

• he doesn't regularly catch things on fire, but it has happened

• Mikey will flip out when he finds out what the two of you have done to his kitchen

• Leo reassures him (falsely) that you'll clean everything up after you're finished

• nothing ends up back in the right place

• maybe your downfall is that when you cook together you end up trying to get "creative" and it totally backfires

• nobody eats your leftovers

• heck, you won't even eat it when it's fresh

• they have a family intervention on what to do about your kitchen privileges

• the settle on revoking your stovetop and oven use

• this doesn't stop the two of you from using things when no one is around or everyone else is asleep though

• another intervention happens impromptu when the fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night

Raph:

• it takes him too long to finally come clean

• but he must have suffered one too many burnt and gooey dishes

• he has never eaten worse food and he literally grew up in a sewer

• he offers to help you in the future

• you work your way through mastering one dish at a time, remaking each until Mikey approves

• Raph is an average cook, so he improves right alongside you

• more often than not his brothers join you and it ends up being a group cooking session

• don't feel offended if someone is usually looking over your shoulder

• they're just genuinely concerned for everyone's safety

• over time your cooking must improve - either that, or Raph just isn't affected by your cooking anymore since he starts choosing to eat your leftovers

Donnie:

• cooking is science, right?

• it's measurements and reactions and exact numbers

• Donnie's not a bad cook, and he's decent at adding a little flare

• but your cooking... What in the world?

• there are now labels and warnings on many things in the kitchen discerning what you are and are not allowed to touch

• he believes that someday you might accidently poison someone

• after one particularly horrible disaster he temporarily programmed the kitchen to not even allow you in

• you did almost set the kitchen on fire so that's fair

• you secretly try hard to perfect one of Donnie's favorite foods, and its good enough he thinks it's takout

• he allows you access to the kitchen again with the stipulation that that is the only thing you are allowed to make unsupervised

Mikey:

• simultaneously finds you endearing and maddening

• like how in the world are you capable of - for the love of - how hard is it to follow directions

• he immediately organizes regular cooking lessons for you

• you work on memorizing measurements and various terms used in recipes and eventually work your way up to taste testing

• props to him; he's a really patient teacher. he's gonna need it

• his brothers love it because they are constantly delicious leftovers in the fridge

• if you're feeling brave you'll make something for him out of the blue to surprise him

• he's always supportive of course, but he says he's not lying when he says you've improved

• but the more you cook together, the more he can't help but love when you spill something or put in the wrong ingredient or set off the fire alarm

• it's a pleasant hazard

• also you both love to watch cooking shows and yell at the tv like people do with sports

[gaylaughingdoves]

I really love how you draw Dottore! he's my favorite character in genshin- do you have any hcs/ideas for how he interacts with the other harbingers? I find other people's readings of him really interesting!

take care, have a good day whenever you read this!

Aaa!! Thank you!! <3 :D And yes I absolutely have hcs about him and the other harbingers!!

(I'm gonna toss them under a cut because I have a tendency to ramble on and use a whole lotta Words-)

Alright, so Signora and Dottore:

Extraordinarily chaotic and evil sibling dynamic

They gossip, like, A Lot, it's mainly Signora talking while Dottore fidgets and works with whatever he's working on, but he gets invested in it pretty easily

Now they also can and will rat each other out when they want, absolute snitches the both of them, they find immense joy in it, however. They also know a decent number of each other's secrets and they aren't going to tell those unless given a proper bribe (which neither have received just yet)

Signora and Dottore also both do Not like Childe

They have bonded over this

Childe is gaslight girlboss gatekept from everything when Signora and Dottore are involved

Also, Signora usually isn't phased by whatever Dottore keeps in his labs, because, yk, she might be 500+ years old, which Dottore appreciates because usually people are constantly on edge in his labs

It's a pain for him to actually keep staff (alive and employed), but having another Harbinger there (even one with a reputation like Signora's) grants the people working for him an, admittedly false, sense of security. Nothing could go bad when two Harbingers are here, right?

So Actually many many things can go wrong with these two in a room with Dottore's experiments

Like don't trust them around fire? Ever? Signora knows her way around it a little bit too well to be safe, and Dottore just likes watching how things burn under different conditions soo a recipe for Arson, that's what that is

Signora also thinks Dottore is hilarious when he's angry, and Dottore just likes being antagonistic, which leads to a whole lotta bickering. It's usually lighthearted but it can get serious and it can get serious fast

But overall Dottore just sorta sees her as an older sibling-ish person? He knows if he lets something slip she's not going to go straight to the other Harbingers to gossip. Which he likes because he can just go off and rant about how stupid something is and she'll just use it as blackmail material, which he thinks is better than like. Having everyone know how much he hates a certain piece of old machinery or something-

However, he doesn't trust her too much, because?? Who in the Harbingers actually trusts each other???

Also he and Signora have Transmasc/Transfem solidarity I will not be elaborating

Dottore and Childe on the other hand:

Pure hatred from Childe's side, he straight-up despises Dottore.

After all, this is a guy whose family is one of the most important things to him, his siblings are children, children who do not know the weight of the world just yet.

And Dottore is the guy who is... well. He's known to treat kids like nothing but a base to experiment on

Now Dottore on the other hand literally just wants to dissect Childe, he's gone absolutely crazy trying to get permission to at least run tests.

I mean, What else was he going to do when the kid Pulcinella found on the side of the road started turning into an entire 10ft abyss creature??? That's part of his whole line of work!! This is literally something he studies!!!

Needless to say, he was not allowed to study Childe's Foul Legacy in any regard and it ticked him off

So yeah, just overall they Hate each other, they argue a lot, like, if the Tsarita wasn't there at meetings they would turn into fistfights

However, they both drink whatever the Genshin equivalent of Monster is

This is not a bonding point, they fight over flavors

Sounds like a dumb thing to fight over but Dottore can't stand Childe's and Childe can't stand Dottore's

This has lead to other Harbingers swapping their flavors around because they think it's entertaining to watch them fight

It actually got to the point where the Tsaritsa herself had to order them to stop switching the flavors around because Dottore and Childe are already prepped to murder each other at any moment, they don't need to make it worse

So Dottore just reserves himself to snapping at Childe with the annoyance of someone who is being blocked from something that could very easily be a big break that's being dangled over his head

For real though, Childe has so much potential for Dottore's experiments but Dottore isn't allowed to do so much as study what effect that the transformation has on Childe afterward, and he hates it

But he can't lose his funding from the Tsaritsa so he stays quiet and angrily compiles whatever information he can

Anyway, Dottore and Scaramouche:

Overall neutral actually?

Like they don't see each other much, with Dottore usually knee and elbow deep in some messed up science stuff, and Scara's work taking him out and about a lot of the time

They bicker and stuff, but overall?? They kinda just avoid talking to each other?

Sometimes, rarely, they do get put on a mission with each other, but when they happens they usually get along pretty well!

They actually have a good time snooping around places, what with Dottore's practically uncontrollable curiosity being easily triggered if there's... oh idk, dragon bones, or old machines, or abyss-related ruins, or anything in the typical Vindagyeran Architecture Style, and Scaramouche just likes to snoop and sneak around for fun, for funsies

There's been a few times when the both of them have bonded over chaotically messing something up (didn't impact them, but sure did impact whoever was living in those houses) and laughed over it, grabbed some drinks, and just hung out

They're sorta like buddies who don't see each other much so they're overall estranged but still have a good time, yk?

Scaramouche has hung out in Dottore's labs before, doesn't particularly enjoy them, what with all the machinery and people crying and whatever, thinks it's boring, but if he has to hang out there he'll find his way to Dottore's office and read his files

This gets on Dottore's nerves, but he knows a little better than to cross the minor god that is Scaramouche

And he would very much like to study Scaramouche, considering, yk, divinity abandoned by the divine?

What an odd predicament!!

What effects would that have!!

How does he still have any power!!!

The questions Dottore could have are endless!!

But Scaramouche is away enough to be sure that Dottore's interest is solidly in other things (mainly Abyssal, and Dragons, because there's always some Fatui around the dragon skeletons (Durin and Orobashi) and I have a feeling it's Dottore's doing)

And that's it so far I think? They'll probably change as more Harbingers/info on the ones we have already come out and such but that's what I have rn!! Just Dottore being a funny feral little angry science man with at least three sensible braincells, and yk what I love him for it :)

[riversofmars]

I know you must have done wedding prompts before but perhaps one where the Doctor is trying to find something to wear but keeps coming up with all the stupid suits or other oddball clothes River dislikes and refuses River's suggestions of anything decent?

Hello all! Just back from holiday in the middle of nowhere and brought loads of fanfic content back! To start us off, a silly prompt filler! I've had a lot of fun prompts that all felt a bit too short for one thing so I've mixed a whole lot of them together for a chaotic and utterly typical day in the life of River and the Doctor! Hope you like it!

Word count: ~3k

Rating: G

Read below or on AO3

A Day in the Life

“You’re up early,“ River commented, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen in the TARDIS. She had woken up alone which wasn’t an unusual occurrence, the Doctor didn’t sleep much. She was, however, surprised to find her busying herself in the kitchen, rather than tinkering around the TARDIS.

“Big day today!“ The Doctor announced with a grin and turned around, she was waving a spatula about, and batter had somehow found its way into her hair and onto her entire outfit. River couldn’t help but chuckle, her hearts warming at the adorable sight in front of her. She pushed herself off the doorframe and made her way over to her wife.

“Doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be. We have a time machine, after all,“ she pointed out, recalling the conversation they had had last night. They had been invited to a wedding, which sounded a lot more recent than it was. The wedding had of course taken place thousands of years ago and they had encountered the happy couple many times since, but that wasn’t to say they wouldn’t be at their wedding at some point. The Doctor seemed to have decided that the time had come.

“No, no, I think it would be a nice thing to do today,“ the Doctor nodded enthusiastically and turned back to the stove to flip what looked like a pancake.

“Feeling sentimental?“ River asked, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Maybe…“ The Doctor gave a little shrug and proceeded to curse most colourfully when the pancake split as she flipped it, and batter splashed everywhere as it crashed down.

“Is this something to do with that new face of yours?“ River hummed, nuzzling into her neck placing a soft kiss there.

“Something to do with you not being stuck in the library anymore,“ the Doctor answered more sincerely than River would have anticipated.

“Fair point,“ she had to agree. Life had been very different for them since the Doctor had freed her from the Library. For the first time - with the exception of their years on Darillium - they were living together in linear time. No running, no spoilers, just time, little time together, and they both appreciated it more than they could ever find the words to say.

“Sit down, breakfast is almost ready,“ the Doctor smiled and turned her head for a brief kiss.

“What are you making?“ River asked, eyeing the mess on the stove.

“Pancakes,“ the Doctor answered, bewildered, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“You sure about that?“ River frowned. Not only the consistency was suspect, the colour as well, upon closer observation.

“Oi, of course I’m sure!“ The Doctor exclaimed. “Special recipe. It’s from one of those colony worlds, over the far side of the Andromeda Galaxy. See, they don’t have chickens there so the eggs they use are…“

“Right,“ River nodded and decided that was all she needed to know to skip breakfast.

“And they don’t have maple syrup either but there is this really nice substitute they got…“ The Doctor went on and reached for a fork. She scooped up a presumably baked sample of the pancake and dipped it into some odd-looking white liquid in a bowl. She held it out to River expectantly.

“I’m gonna have to take your word for it,“ River hummed and let go of her to put some distance between herself and the offending pancake.

“Try it!“ The Doctor insisted, evidently hurt at her rejection. “It’s lush!“ She took the bite herself, sampling her own cooking, and was careful not to let her expression give any indication on the quality of the food.

“No, I’m good, watching my figure, with the dress and everything,“ River waved it off with a polite smile.

“You’re silly. You look absolutely beautiful,“ the Doctor seemed put out that she would even think that. She grabbed her hand to hold her back while scooping up another bite for her.

“And I really don’t want to try that,“ River grimaced, and with a sigh the Doctor ate the second bite too.

“I've been slaving in this kitchen for hours!“

“And I am ever so grateful.“ River pecked her cheek trying her best to avoid the sticky syrup all over her lips.

“Not even a proper kiss?“ The Doctor pouted.

“Not like that!“ River pointed out the sticky liquid and quickly pulled away before she had to sample the cooking second hand.

“Oi!“ The Doctor called, disappointed.

“Let’s go and pick out our outfits then!“ River grinned, skipping back to their bedroom.

——

“No… no…“ River shook her head vehemently.

“What do you mean, no? This is brilliant,“ the Doctor insisted, taking a twirl in a rainbow-coloured suit.

“No, it’s not, I’m not having it,“ River put her foot down. This was the fourth outfit the Doctor had tried and things were only getting worse.

“But…!“ The Doctor looked down at herself, disappointed. She thought this time she had picked a winner. The main problem was that she just didn’t really see the difference or what River’s issue was, else she would have been able to make a better choice. She was left guessing.

“No! Get something else!“ River sighed, getting frustrated.

“How about this?!“ The Doctor picked up another suit from the rack and River groaned:

“It literally is the same suit but in a different colour!“

“Brings out my eyes though, doesn’t it!“ The Doctor tried to reason but River wasn’t having it:

“No!“ She exclaimed and marched over to the rack herself. “Here, let me have a look…“ She started pushing through the coat hangers. “How about this?“ She pulled out a dress for a change and held it out to her, it was sky blue and silky.

“No.“ The Doctor shook her head immediately.

“Or this?“ River chose a red dress next that she remembered wearing herself for some occasion or another.

“I’m not going to wear one of your dresses!“ The Doctor huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“They’re not all my dresses… I’m sure this one is my mum’s,“ River mused, looking at a green one that she only had vague recollections of.

“No!“ The Doctor retorted decisively.

“Then I think we have reached an impasse…“ River sighed, putting all the dresses back. “I think we need to go shopping,“ she announced.

“River…“ The Doctor rubbed her face, she didn’t like the idea of it at all. .

“Unless you settle on one of my suggestions?“ River suggested sweetly and the Doctor shook her head.

“No.“

“Then, we’re going shopping,“ River decided, not taking no for an answer.

“What if I don’t dress up?“ The Doctor suggested in a last ditch attempt.

“Or you could wear nothing at all…“ River suggested with a sly smirk, and the Doctor blushed. “But no-one but me would appreciate that, so we’re going shopping.“

“Fine…“ The Doctor huffed.

——

“Right, back to the TARDIS,“ River announced triumphantly.

“I can’t believe you've dragged me around the shops…“ The Doctor was carrying several bags and did her best to avoid bumping into people. It was incredibly busy. They had come to the biggest shopping centre in the universe, the shopping planet aptly called “Capitalism“, which was rather on the nose but at least the people knew what this place was all about.

“Only until we found something we both liked well enough. Marriage is all about compromise, Sweetie,“ River chuckled, pleased that they had finally put the pesty issue to bed. Now it was just a matter of getting back to the TARDIS, changing into their new outfits and enjoying a very special day with some of their closest friends.

“Look over there…“ The Doctor halted as she spotted a little girl, no older than five, wandering around by herself.

“She looks lost…“ River had to agree and stopped walking as well. The girl was looking around, clearly searching for something or someone. It was far too busy for a child that age to be left to her own devices.

“Hello, are you okay? Who are you here with?“ The Doctor decided they couldn’t just carry on, instead she walked over to talk to the child, her wife close behind.

“I’m looking for my parents.“ The little girl answered reluctantly, eyeing the two of them as if she wasn’t sure whether she could trust them.

“Where did you last see them? Maybe we can help, you really shouldn’t be here on your own, it’s so busy,“ the Doctor scanned around the crowd but should see anyone that might be looking for a child in turn.

“I lost them in the crowd, we were meant to go to the entertainment level…“ The girl carried on to explain and pointed to a big poster on the other side of the walkway.

“Okay, well, maybe they went there and are waiting there for you now, shall we see if we can find them?“ River suggested, as it was as good a place as any to start.

——

“Entertainment is saying a bit much…“ River huffed as they slowly advanced into the amusement deck. It was surprisingly quiet, considering the fact that it was meant to be a fun place.

“Quite creepy, isn’t it…“ The Doctor agreed, eyeing up mechanical statues that lined the walls. Up ahead was a large entrance to what resembled an amusement park, only it was half-hidden behind the shutters, and there was no way of looking inside properly.

“Maybe we should go and talk to the security staff, make an announcement or something…“ River mused as she didn’t like the look of the place.

“That’s my mum’s scarf!“ The girl exclaimed as she spotted a yellow scarf not far from the entrance. River and the Doctor exchanged knowing looks.

“Maybe they didn’t lose you at all, maybe they were taken…“ The Doctor mused and pulled out her sonic screwdriver, which was quite a struggle with her shopping bags in hand. She gave the scarf and then the entrance a scan.

“Taken?!“ The girl exclaimed, terrified, and River was quick to pick her up and hug her.

“Don’t say things like that!“ She hissed at her wife who mumbled an apology.

“Sorry…“ she patted the child’s arm who had wrapped her arms around River’s neck. “We’re gonna find them in no time.“ The Doctor assured her and scanned the way up ahead again. “See, there’s lifesigns up ahead.“ Slowly, they started making their way inside the park.

The place was abandoned and they walked in silence until suddenly there was movement.

“AH!“ It was River that screamed first, and before the Doctor could do anything, she unloaded her blaster at a mechanical clown.

“River!!“ The Doctor exclaimed, shocked, as the girl screamed as well and buried her face in River’s neck.

“I just… really hate clowns, OKAY?!“ River took a deep breath, advancing carefully towards the thoroughly beat up statue.

“Right, okay, you’ve really shown that one who’s boss…!“ The Doctor commented, relaxing a little when River put her gun away upon finding the clown completely broken.

“Emily!“ A voice called up ahead and River and the Doctor looked up.

“Mum!“ The girl exclaimed and River set her down, smiling, at the woman running towards her.

“It was one way, we couldn’t turn around, we thought you’d gone in!“ The woman scooped up her daughter in a tight hug and the Doctor and River exchanged smiles.  “Thank you so much for bringing her here!“ The mother carried on, immense relief in her voice.

“All is well that ends well,“ River smiled and looped her arm around that of her wife.

“We’d better go, before someone makes us pay for the damage on that clown…“ The Doctor chuckled and captured River's lips in a kiss before she could get affronted.

——

“Happy?“ River asked, giving her wife a sideways glance.

“Very happy!“ The Doctor nodded, as she adjusted her waistcoat. She was wearing a tailored grey suit with an emerald green bow tie that matched the dress River wore. It was long and fitted, showing off her curves perfectly without being too revealing.

“Right then, let’s do this.“ River smiled and took her wife’s arm as she offered it to her.

“Nice venue!“ River commented as they stepped outside the TARDIS. They found themselves in a Victorian manor house.

“Looks oddly familiar…“ The Doctor mused with a frown, getting an odd sense of déjà vu.

“You’ve not been here before, have you?“ River asked, recognising the look on her face. She felt they were in for a surprise.

“I think I would remember…“ The Doctor mused, scanning the room some more. That’s when she spotted it: the second TARDIS on the other side of the room. “Oh no!“ She breathed.

“Timelines crossing, that’s why you don’t remember…“ River chuckled and frowned when she spotted the other Doctor. Tall with floppy hair, bowtie, and a girl following close behind. “But who is that?!“

“Okay, all of this was a huge misunderstanding…“ The Doctor reached for her wife’s hand intent on pulling her back to the TARDIS but River was too curious to let this opportunity pass them by. Particularly since the girl who was following the young Doctor was doing her best to cling to his arm.

“Doctor?“ River flashed him a bright smile, pulling her wife along.

“River!“ The younger Doctor recognised her and the colour drained from his face. He was doing his best to shake off the girl on his arm while going bright red in the face. “Oh no, no no no…“

“Who’s this darling?“ The young girl piped up to which River raised her eyebrows.

“This is my…“ The young Doctor cleared his throat as he gestured to his wife, trying to make introductions.

“Darling?“ River echoed with a good-natured smile, already relishing in his discomfort.

“Oh God, I think I remember this…“ The blonde Doctor groaned next to her wife, running her hand through her hair nervously. This was not where they were meant to end up when she had set the TARDIS going.

“And what is this ?“ River asked and the younger Doctor stammered:

“It’s really not what it looks like…“

“I thought we were going to Vastra and Jenny’s wedding, we have been meaning to go for ages!“ River sighed, pursing her lips, raising her questioning eyebrow.

“I must have… overshot a little…“ The blonde Doctor admitted.

“River, I can explain, see there was this thing…“ The other Doctor started.

“There is always a thing…“ River hummed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She was doing her very best to remain serious. It wasn’t exactly the first time she had caught her spouse in an awkward position and she didn’t care in the least, but she greatly enjoyed winding them up.

“Please, let’s leave this horrible place and start our life together…“ The girl piped up again, wrapping her arms around the young Doctor’s waist who struggled to push her off.

“Yeah, about that…“ He stuttered.

“There was this whole forced marriage cult that I was trying to break up and I don’t know what happened, suddenly I was married to this girl and…“ The blonde Doctor decided to add some context at last.

“Ah.“ River smirked.

“It was an accident…“ The younger Doctor interjected immediately.

“We will leave you to deal with this accident then and you can make it up to me next time you see me,“ River announced with great amusement.

“Yes well… but what about you, do I not get to be jealous?“ The younger Doctor suddenly realised, pointing to his future self.

“I am you,“ the Doctor retorted dryly, as if it wasn’t obvious by now.

“Right…“ The other Doctor looked his future self up and down. “Nice suit.“

“She is you? I am married to both of you?“ The girl interjected, drawing everyone’s attention, as a huge smile spread across her face at the prospect. She was taking the whole thing surprisingly well which probably had a lot to do with having regained her freedom after what could be considered a rather hopeless existence.

“You are married to neither one of us. She is. We’re not married, 'cause I was already married,“ the younger Doctor explained, hoping to clear things up once and for all. This was just typical. Try and do one nice thing and get caught out by your wife for it.

“She’s your wife?“ The girl looked to River but not with animosity, more like blatant fascination and probably considering if there was a case to be made for an extended arrangement.

“She’s something.“ The older Doctor hummed and got a gentle slap to the arm for it.

“So… Vastra and Jenny’s wedding? Or are we postponing that again?“ River turned back to her wife in amusement, but only after giving the girl a wink.

“Ohh you’re off to see Vastra and Jenny? Been meaning to do that for ages, can we all go?“ The younger Doctor grinned in excitement and River chuckled:

“I think you got something else to sort out first…“

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

I was going to actually post this before asks closed (didn’t get the chance), but Teddy Bear Anon, you are one of my favorite people and a magnificent creature. You get my vibe. 

About Bad canonically being Sapnap’s dad I feel like that has so much extra angst potential when we consider the rest of the found family. Like. Sapnap, Tommy, and Fundy all have dads who started with the best of intentions but for one reason or another ended up slowly becoming a danger to them. I imagine Tommy and Fundy one day showing up with a cake and telling Sapnap “We regretfully welcome you to the shit dad club” and Sapnap is torn between being upset still and laughing over the absurdity of the situation.

Bonus points if Tommy made the cake using a recipe book that Niki gave him, the last gift Niki ever gave to Tommy. Tommy was originally a really bad cook/baker but after the egg really started to take over he went full survivalist. Leaning to cook was necessary but learning to bake was something he did as a way to raise everyone’s spirits. He’s never gotten the flavor quite to match with Niki’s perfectly but everyone agrees he’s gotten pretty decent in terms of skills. He and Fundy in particular will sometimes just spend an entire day in silence baking and then quietly eat their creations while reflecting on the friends they’ve made and lost over the course of L'manberg’s lifetime. When the group got back to the past and Niki made cookies for Tommy and Fundy the pair very nearly started crying.

Tommy is in an interesting position as a character since he did commit a lot of minor crimes and acted as a general nuisance but he was also still a child. (A very traumatized one considering I canonize SMP Earth with its unlimited lives but even more wars. Including against God. Tommy fought God just let me have this.) He acknowledges the moments when he went over the line and has tried to apologize. In particular at some point before the egg fully takes over he pulls aside Jack and tells him that he’s sorry for the way he acted when he was still in exile, taking one of Jack’s lives and all. Jack and Niki in particular are an interesting subject to address and a painful one for immune!Tommy to think about when he sees younger Niki because the three never fully tossed out the hatchet but it was obvious in the eyes of someone like Sam that both of them were growing more and more hesitant to hurt Tommy. It was made worse by the fact neither were even marginally immune, and it didn’t take long for the egg to get to them.

He never stopped being chaotic. Tommy at his core is just that kind of person. He did, however, grow up enough to act in a more mature manner. Started to recognize what’s too much. In particular he became a lot less violent and willing to lash out after Sam Nook in essence reparented him. He’s still an absolute wild card of a person, which in the eyes of Sam and Sapnap is a good thing. For this au I think we should actually address Tommy having severe ptsd and during the building of his hotel/the early days of the egg before it becomes a noticeable threat it shows. He’s a lot more subdued. Shows of aggression all carry a kind of desperation and his typical jokes feel flat. Lashing out at people slowly becomes more of a defense mechanism to see if someone’s going to leave or betray him, to test the limits of how nice they’re willing to be. After all, nice people have only ever been nice to Tommy when they wanted something from him. His eyes, especially after L'manberg is blow sky high, are well and truly gray. The first time Tommy genuinely laughs after filling Sapnap’s room with chickens is considered celebration worthy to them. His pranks take on a more hermitcraft-esque feel to them which honestly makes them more funny.

By the time they get to the past Tommy has recovered, but he still carries the kind of maturity that like Teddy Bear mentioned is reminiscent of age swap Tommy. When he gets especially stressed though, Immune!Tommy will slip into moments where he acts as tired and done with the world as age swap Tommy. With that said, most of the time he just acts like a more mature Tommy. Nothing could ever completely erase his unique vibe which Ranboo has gone on record as describing “Willing to fight God deaf, blind, and backwards just to prove a point." 

Immune Fundy and Tommy get on really well once Fundy manages to catch up with the rest of the group. It gets to the point where everyone from the past is kinda shocked since smp Fundy and Tommy do not get along. At all. Literally the first night Fundy’s back someone goes to wake them up and they find Fundy asleep on top of Tommy which is a wild experience since this Tommy is a goliath who often refuses to take off his full Netherite max enchant armor. He really becomes a "looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll” kinda mans.

Also, yeah, this is Dream’s retirement arc. He is literally just sitting in the corner watching Tommy dote on his younger self and Tubbo before completely pile driving two of the most powerful people on the server straight into the dirt. At some point Tommy sits down with past Punz. He tells this Punz that their Punz died protecting him and Tubbo and that Tommy never got to properly thank their Punz so he’s going to thank this Punz. Tommy then gives Punz an entire stack of Netherite. If we’re gonna go ahead and agree on Phoenix Tommy then Tommy is fire proof, meaning he probably spent a large amount of time in the nether to avoid the egg crew and get rare supplies. Meaning he also probably did a lot of mining just to distract himself and it resulted in him being loaded. Tommy used to have a fear of tnt and explosives but he seems like the type of mad lad to say “exposure therapy” and make a massive cavern in the underbelly of the nether.

I think it would also be really interesting to dedicate like, a couple of chapters to other people’s perspectives. I kind of want to set the time they arrive in the past partway through the Pogtopia arc since I like mildly unhinged but not completely gone Wilbur. Plus then it also makes more sense for Techno to be there. Just prefer the aesthetic really. I want to have Wilbur see this version of Tommy and come to a sudden “oh” moment. I want to have a moment where Tubbo looks between his Tommy and this new Tommy, seeing himself nowhere to be found, and has enough what the fuck moments to become aggressively protective of his own Tommy. Especially if immune!Tommy ever admits to the past Tubbo why he is the way he is, what he faced under the thumb of the people he trusted. Which, out of everyone on the server, Tubbo would be the first one from the past to actively learn. 

I am fully on board with Tommy knowing how to sew. That should just automatically be canon in literally ever AU. Tommy for all intents and purposes is still Phil’s child for me. Survival runs in the family the same way that chaos does, so he’s got a ton of basic survival skills that he just doesn’t show off because it’s still Tommy. He would have been completely fine in exile if it wasn’t for Dream. Whenever someone ruins their clothes in the Immune group they automatically go to Tommy and at first the past versions are very confused (except for past Tommy and Tubbo obviously) and then Tommy’s just “Sapnap this is beyond ruined it can’t be saved, let me make you something new” and within a couple days he makes Sapnap a completely new outfit. Like maybe Sapnap fell into a lava pool because Blaze Sapnap Supremacy and his clothes are beyond saving and everyone is beyond baffled when Tommy just acts like this is a weekly occurrence. He’s memorized Sapnap’s measurements and style tastes and already had a new outfit in the works for him that Sapnap immediately adores upon it being presented to him. It takes about a week for past Eret to learn that Tommy stress sews new clothing and he cannot think of a better model. Eret has never had such a full closet. Eret has everything from three piece suits to ball gowns now. Eret lives in terror of the days where Tommy disappears god knows where with Fundy and the two reappear with a new wardrobe for the entire god damn server. 

Speaking of disappearing I really like the idea of part phoenix and part tanuki Tommy for a couple reasons. Being a Tanuki he’d have access to enough magic to hide his hybrid traits, which if they’ve been present for long enough would be a necessity to him. Additionally think about Fundy and Tommy building a den under Church Prime that slowly turns into a maze. Think about it. It starts off simple and then they both start digging more and it gets deeper and deeper and more complicate and the two just refer to it as their den and the only ones who are fully aware of the connotations of that word are Sam, Sapnap, and Ranboo who remember the absolute hell that was trying to navigate the original. Just Fundy and Tommy bonding over the fact they are literally the only creatures on this server that have this catacomb memorized and at the end of the catacomb is their saferoom which connects to rail way that the two spent a month straight on. It goes at least 25k blocks from spawn and it’s a final emergency resort in case they can’t stop the egg and the Immunes needs to regroup and essentially try again (if they keep bringing their younger selves with them then hopefully they’ll finally get an army large enough to stop this, but everyone really hopes it doesn’t come to that.)

I’m working on the first chapter of my fic right now actually if I’m gonna be honest and phoenix Tommy is absolutely without question canon to it but I’ve still been going back and forth on if I want him to be part tanuki as well or just blessed/favored by one like Teddy Bear mentioned. I’m also tucking away the whole thing about the magma blood for later use. Phoenix Tommy just makes sense. They used to call him Zombie Kid for a reason back on SMP Earth, he just literally does not die ever unless he decides he does.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[stray-tori]

TPN S02E09 - Initial Thoughts (anime-only)

[ Reaction video w/ captions/subs ] we collectively have a breakdown about the pen, please enjoy it pff-

.

... hmmm... yeah I... ain’t feeling it. I think my tpn feelings overall are carrying this more than anything pff. I didn’t hate it, it was just...... mediocre... like if this wasn’t tpn, I probably would have dropped it at this point.

BUT IT IS TPN SO LET’S GIVE SOME THOUGHTS.

.

. Random thoughts I don’t want to re-arrange

when Emma was like “share your pain with us!!”, I liked how Norman turned to Ray like “Ray. help. tell her I’m right” kind of like Ray did in s1 pfff-

Norman cried the words he didn’t allow himself to say in s1 :( I’M EMOTIONAL. it might not be the icing on the cake execution wise but GOD MY HEART. And knowing he’s going to die to it’s just- (well not if the pen has something to say about it but more about that later)

where- wheres my trio hug :((( RAY HUG THE CHILD NOW

it’s interesting that while Emma got the entire emotional speech spotlight, only Ray got a reaction shot to “I won’t live long”?? equivalent.... exchange...?

I thought Norman had a seizure when he broke down in front of Emma and Ray and I kinda wish he had because while it’s good to have him say it outright (a win for communicationnn), imagine THE ANGST. “I want to live with yo- *coughs up fountains of blood*”.

So. yknow that hideout Cislo or Vincent referenced when talking to Emma and Ray. Yknow where Norman hid the children they stole from farms, making it look like demons did it? ... w-what about them? will we see them? Are they getting left behind? it would have worked for Norman’s plan, since all they had to do was stay put and wait for demons to be yeeted. But now... he’d have to take them all too. But... I doubt we’re gonna introduce a bunch of new designs and characters? Or are we? Who knows. I don’t. I have unreasonably amount of protecc feelings for those children I’ve never even seen haha- WHERE ARE THEY. I mean... the plan rn is to immediately use the gate right? or is the plan to eradicte the GF farm staff and higher ups? I guess if thats the plan it might work. Or I guess the plan is to save Phil for now???

the idea of Sonju just... slicing his arm and throwing it at demons in a loop sounds so funny to me please someone make that.

I liked that Mujika turned to the lambda kids after giving a cup to the demon children but then we didn’t see their reaction or anything and then it cuts to the temple??? that was weird. was there sth missing there? confusion.

I also like Isabella remarking "[a radio] was supposed to be there" regarding the shelter, because it further heavily implies they know of the shelters and just let them be. Which further confirms that they should have just reframed the shelter and had the kids escape from it quickly but oH WELL.

I really liked demon Emma apologizing and Norman's reaction to that. it was a sweet little moment and like, the realization of apologizing for something that she didn't do but is aware of and all that. Cycle of hatred and all that shiz hell ye. Ik the anime won't rly delve into that but I kind of relish in the angst potential of the village - sure it was undone but some were still eaten and died and transforming people back won't bring those back. So, that’s some hella terrifying implications for families; and I'm assuming Norman is aware of those so. guilt time! not that he wasn't aware it was bad but yeah- I teared up at that moment :<<

I feel like this season really does its best when it’s doing the whole two worlds/species angle. Mujika and Sonju, the village, demon and human Emma... all that stuff.

I wish we had gotten more time (god this is really the season’s downfall) thought to see Vylk talk to the GF kids more often. it’s implied he told them not to hang out there before but I would have liked to have him show up a few more times before that but yeah. Runtime very RIP.

I also feel like CW is bending over backwards to put cliffhangers at the end of episodes. that was already a problem in s1 when they had Phil come in when Don and Gilda were in Isabella's room. it was obvious it'd be a copout but they still did it. I'm just wondering why we had to have Vincent disagree with the group to this extend (and if the shock value might play a part in that). we have 2 more episodes, why are they introducing more plot threads? Just streamline it you dofuses. I just don't know what good can come of it unless it's like an ultra big brain move to help them?? (and then we're back with the forcing cliffhangers thing) - if it's actual conflict, this'll just make things more confusing and clustered, and we don't have time for that right now imo. But who knows maybe it plays into something I just don't understand yet and it'll work out somehow

.

. Animation flow kinda dead.

I felt like this episode was kind of... awkwardly executed whenever something that was a slightly dynamic movement happened?

The whole bit while Emma is walking up to Norman could have been better, but it’s passable, except that a lot is spelled out for us.

But then she takes his hand really weirdly in a far away shot with bad inbetween timing?? what is that haha-

Or him collapsing is cut really weirdly. you barely really see it, you just kinda piece it together from Emma’s reaction and her catching him.

Most facial expressions are good though, which is arguably the more important part in this scene. I feel like a better execution just would have elevated it even more.

The only one I felt was really awkward in its entirety is Barbara’s scene with the children demons. I felt like that was in particular kind of stiff and the cut between the child and her was too sudden and felt jarring. TPN anime doesn’t really do that sort of stuff a lot, so imo it’s kind of “??” when they do it. With Norman it was too, but that at least had a good transition over to it (with bg and fg panning) and nice animation. Barbara’s just kind of switched. Tbh don’t switch it out, and as the child screams, switch over to her facial expression as her own voice fades into the scream? I think that would have done it too and also be low effort.

I think it’s moreso the flow of the shots than the actual shots though? it’s a bit too fast paced and sometimes missing inbetweens (like the wild demon eating sonju’s hand is literally just 2 frames) - it’s very weird. It’s jarring, but I can’t really explain why.

I’m sorry for the staff, I’m sure the production hasn’t been easy. maybe with the bluray release we’ll get some updated animations/inbetweens.

Some appreciation though:

as mentioned, most of the facial expressions, even if the body language was a bit stiff.

the cut from the trio talking to the eye-transition of the demon and the following breath animation looked nice. Also his arm regenerating!

Sonju smirking as he cuts his arm off, what a bastard

they didn’t have to show Vylk’s arm regenerating casually while they’re talking but they did.

.

. the lambda crew

If only I cared about you guys. Hahhh it’s just... introducing characters so close to the end is just. A mess. A recipe for disaster.

Where has the anime’s “show off the younger kids” angle gone? I thought they were always pretty good at that. but they haven’t really contributed anything since the whole tidbit about the older children always eating less for them. And even then it was just Lani and Thoma.

Potentially, what segments we saw in the shelter will come back for the GF raid thematically but I’m just... EH?

.

. the cure pen

at this point, just stick a syringe part at the end of the stick and just inject it and it’s gonna solve everything probably.

I just don’t understand why that needed to happen. Assuming they go to the human world, it’d be perfectly acceptable for me for medicine to be so advanced that it’d be able to like, lessen their symptoms and significantly improve their lifespan.

Don’t just... REMOVE their struggles. It’s okay to not be normal and cured. it’s okay for their lives to be impacted by it going forward. In fact, I’d much prefer that.

(added in later) OH wait they literally spell out why the cure being in the pen is meaningful - because it opens up a path where they can live through not having annihilated all the demons - it's essentially the moral "reward" for not killing them. Since they probably wouldn't have gotten it if they did that. I still think it wasn't needed and the blueprint on its own would suffice for another pen-convinience moment but I kind of get what they're going for, I just don't think it's worth it . In their case, going to the human world (while they don't know it) means having more medical expertise at their disposal which they can then use to survive. UNLESS they're actually not welcome over there and have to hide or something, in that case... that might be hard, true. I guess I'll come back to think about this once it's over. For now, it feels kind of unearned and it wouldn’t even have to be this way in my eyes which makes it somewhat worse.

But good, let’s say in-universe you need it NOW, then at least don’t put??? the medicine??? recipe??? INTO the hologram.

What if they just checked the GF blueprint and Norman goes “hey, Vincent... do you think this [database/archive room] could have some data on our experiments?” - Norman said he tried to develop a drug to help them but the supporters who had that data were purged. but... they had Smee to help them too. But SOMEHOW, a dude from 15 years ago just HAS the cure??? (at least let Norman develop it himself and have the data be just THE DATA and not the recipe).

It might still check out somewhat??

15+ years ago, James Ratri was assumingly still the gatekeeper since the switch to Peter seems somewhat recent considering his big "era of James has ended" speech.

I guess the implication is that just like Smee => Krone => Norman, a supporter all that time ago gave random person the pen when they escaped.

When Vylk found him, he also had just the data medium of the pen (not the entire pen), so maybe the farm thought they eliminated it and that’s why they didn’t change their methods to not work with those drugs anymore? It's still a bit curious that their experimentation hasn't changed at all in 15 years but maybe that's because they keep killing the smart people instead of making them scientists to research for them :D

Somewhere since those 15 years, Smee gave Krone the pen (probably a few years before she got to GF?), which means that at that point the gate the keyword "future" sent them to, was still in tact when Smee gave Krone the pen. Maybe WM wasn't discovered yet at that point?

then WM got discovered, James was chased. He made that phonecall update and was probably eventually killed, along with the human location (and likely bunkers since they knew a radio was supposed to be there, begs the question why they didn't remove it) being discovered (the one with the future keyword) and the gate there being destroyed.

The problem is just that it can make sense when you think about it for way too long and assume things in good-faith, but it still feels unearned.

Maybe I would care more or this would feel a little more earned if we knew ANYTHING about that person? They seemed fairly young, so it’s probably not Minerva/James Ratri. The “hope” talk reminded me of the book in the shelter, but I’m not sure if that checks out either? The cookies were rotten but not completely. I know cookies hold out relatively long, but would they rly not be completely rotten after 15 years? I MEAN. Maybe not. Who knows. I tried to google it but didn’t find anything. 

But anyway. That tidbit is going into my “shelter kids OC project” I guess.

But even if the worldbuilding makes sense, I think the data set in itself makes little sense?? How did they find that pen part? Did a supporter give it to them? Why do they have the cure? Clearly their group of escapees wasn’t doing too hot (#help) and they seemed relatively young too so they probably couldn’t have worked in the farm.

Were the shelter escapees lambda escapees? but if that was the case, wouldn’t the WM group have secured the cure information more properly than in just one pen (maybe it was and those were just destroyed, to be fair) - it’s just WEIRD to put the cure for Lambda experiments on the same blueprint as the GF layout??? that makes so little sense.

Plus, why would you send them to GF, when it’s so secured and all that, and not just send them to the human support place our GF kids were sent with the “future” keyword, which had a gate. Maybe it didn’t exist 15 years ago (that the humans had control over it, that is), but even then it seems weird to me to imply to send them to GF instead of one of the other gates that existed. I mean. The “future” location’s gate wasn’t destroyed when Krone got the pen right?

I’m guessing maybe it was meant as help for escaping? But then again, why the cure? I guess if they met lambda experiments? I’m just confused.

Also: do we just accept that the layout of GUARDS and SECURITY MEASURES has not changed in 15 years???

.

*sigh* welp. Still looking forward to seeing some stuff with Isabella hopefully. Time... is not on their side and it shows. Neither run-time wise nor production wise.

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Pretender Next Door Part 2 Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  Warning: Swearing.  Summary: Lying is despicable, but nothing beats the humiliation of pretending you have a lovely boyfriend when, in fact, you have none. Could your handsome neighbor help you, though?  Words: 2138.  Part 1 _____________________________________ It went better you thought it would. Your colleagues were mostly friendly and open, your work environment seemed both interesting and challenging enough, and living in the new apartment was comfortable and pretty peaceful. Well, that man from the 5th floor was singing songs from Bridget Jones Diary on Friday mornings really loudly, but you were an early bird, so you didn’t care, truly. You hadn’t seen Steve much, though it was more an advantage rather than not. He wasn’t bringing any girls into his apartment, and it really bothered you. Worse, he wasn’t bringing any boys either. Your last hope was that Steve belonged to some kind of swingers club or something and had orgies in a different place.

Swingers club? Damn, girl. This man was making you crazy.

You did your best to forget about that perfection of a man living next door. You needed to build your life from scratch in this mad city of New York, and having relationships now was not on your list. In fact, it had never been.

One busy month had already passed when you got a chance to talk to Steve again. You were stepping inside the elevator, tired after work. Next week you were organizing a big holiday party for employees, and things were going more and more stressful with each day. It turned out that way more people had allergies they didn’t state previously, most of them new employees like you, and you had to adjust the menu; then that band your VP of Marketing wanted to have suddenly asked more money than you discussed before, and…

Well, event planning was always like that. Why complaining now when you spend all those years in college and then decided to move to NY? It was predictable. What was unpredictable was you lying to your married colleagues that you had a boyfriend. Why on Earth did you say that? Yes, it was a bit embarrassing to be the only woman who wasn’t in a relationship, but did you ultimately have to lie about it? It was so stupid and childish. Surely, there were more than one single woman in New York.

Anyway, you had a bottle of white wine and Netflix movies waiting for you at home. You would deal with everything else later, including your imaginary boyfriend.

“Wait, please!”

You snapped out of your thoughts and immediately pressed a button to leave the doors open, and the next second Steve almost flew inside the elevator. Oh, was he just in front of you and you hadn’t seen him again? Seriously, you needed to put yourself together.

“Hello.” You smiled a bit shyly and pressed another button to get the elevator moving.

He looked as handsome as always in his dark blue jacket and… oh God, he could wear nothing at all and still looked like a prince. No clothes at all would be far more preferable…

“Hello.” His glowing smile made it hard to keep your eyes off his face.

Nonono, just stop staring and keep your eyes down. You had enough things on your plate already, there was no place left for a giant sun named Steve Rogers who would indeed burn you to ashes the same second you decide to come closer.

“So, are we going the same floor?” He suddenly asked. Wait, did he forget you literally lived next door?

“Um, yes.”

Steve scratched the back of his head; for a few seconds he seemed lost in thought. You decided to drop it. Maybe he had a bad memory or something.

“Oh, I get it, you probably visiting my new neighbor.” He just grinned through those perfectly white teeth.

What? Did he already forget he spent at least half an hour in your hallway repairing your bookshelf? Just how bad was his memory if he didn’t recognize your face, for God’s sake? Well, anyway, if you wanted him to have a flaw, you had to be happy he got one. Better than being a secret swinger, wasn’t it?

“Actually, I am your new neighbor.” You let out an awkward laugh and stared at your pretty kitten heels shoes you bought before leaving Key West. Why were you upset? You just thought about not getting into relationship with anyone. Besides, you doubted you had a chance to date Steve Rogers even if New York’s female population would be five times smaller its actual size.

Lost in your thoughts again, you missed his immediate change of expression, his face completely red with embarrassment and shame.

“God, I’m an idiot with a fish’s memory span.” He groaned and looked somewhere up, shutting his eyes for a few seconds. “I’m so sorry! I mean, of course I remember you, Y/N, it just, ugh, you know… you just look a bit different and… Jesus Christ, I’m gonna say something stupid again, aren’t I?.. Just, ugh, sorry.”

With the guilt all over his pretty face he reminded you of a puppy who ate someone’s shoe, and you chuckled. It wasn’t as bad as you though, he still remembered your name. It was true you were different comparing to the day he met you – you were wearing way more makeup, including bright lipstick, to look older for your colleagues who were in their 40s and 50s. You also had a nice New Look black dress, and your hair were curled. Although you did not expect to look so different to others, maybe Steve simply didn’t take a closer look at your face that time?

And you could still take it as his flaw. Not bad enough, but still something!

“Don’t worry, you only saw me two times in your life.” You laughed it off and stepped out of the elevator once the doors were open. “Now if you see here a grumpy old woman with Ikea bags please remember the way I looked today.”

Steve followed you into a narrow corridor and burst out laughing, his face slowly losing its funny redness. You suspected he still felt kind of guilty, but he tried to keep it cool when you bid him goodbye and entered your apartment.

Thinking of any other possible flaws he might have, you took off your shoes and threw you bag on the comfy grey sofa in the middle of the room. You were finally home. Now you could change into your favorite blue pyjamas and fluffy slippers, take off your makeup and have some good time watching your favorite romcoms. Although you didn’t have anything for dinner, you could easily order something like a nice pizza or lasagna from that family-owned pizzeria around the corner.

The next hour you spent in a tub, washing away your worries. One was still there though: what were you supposed to do with your imaginary boyfriend? Your biggest issue was that your colleagues asked you to bring him to the party. Of course, they thought it was a nice gesture since they often brought their own husbands and boyfriends, but now they just made your life way more difficult. Even if you could say your boyfriend got sick or something at the day of the event, what then? Thankfully, no one demanded to see your photos yet, but they could. And they might ask you to bring him to dinners they had altogether sometimes, and God knows what else.

You were stupid enough to make up some super romantic story about a perfect guy any girl would like to date. It was embarrassing to think of it now, but you definitely got affected by the marriage stories of your colleagues who spent the whole lunch hour talking about their lovely husbands. Your problem was you tried to fit in too much.

Well, you probably had to come up with something about breaking up once you moved to NY. Funny, because your “boyfriend” was living here and waiting for you for a year to come over and transform your long-distance relationships into something bigger. Hell, you even said you might marry him. Why were you so careless? Why did your colleagues’ opinions matter so much?

You sighed, putting on an old black hoodie. You were hopeless.

Then you heard the doorbell rang and frowned. You were not expecting anyone since you didn’t order your pizza yet.

You hurried to the door in your slippers and put your hair into a ponytail on the way. It was around 8 pm. Who could it be? Did someone just mistake your apartment for someone’s else? You knew your aunt wasn’t coming without telling you first, and no one else knew where you moved to.

But you opened the door, and you found glowing Steve there with a plate in his hands. You were so stunned you just kept standing there until you heard him snicker. Wait, what? Steve? Did he need to borrow anything? Why was he here?

“H-hi Steve. Please, come in.” You stepped back awkwardly to let him go inside and saw him smiling even wider once he spotted your fluffy blue slippers. Could it get even more humiliating than that?

“Hi there. I’ve actually come to apologize properly for the… well, you know.” He almost looked like he was blushing a bit. “And I brought you a lemon pie. Although I baked it myself, I swear it’s not poisonous!”

Great, your absolutely perfect blue-eyed neighbor with blond hair and a winning smile was so nice he brought you a homemade pie. Girl, you were losing it. Maybe he was a serial killer instead of a swinger? It would make sense, indeed. Maybe it wasn’t wise touching this pie? Damn, you hoped he tried to kill you instead of just being nice, because Steve was clearly out of this world.

“I mean… not like baked it the way my mother did… more like googling an easy recipe online and putting everything I found into an instant pot…”

You were ready to slap yourself when you saw Steve fidgeting nervously in the hallway. You had to keep your lovely neighbor out of your mind.

“Thank you so much.” Taking the plate from his huge warm hands you felt your body temperature rising. “But you didn’t have to do that. There’s nothing to be sorry about!”

“No, I was being stupid and…”

“Well, whatever. Just come here and share this pie with me so I can check if it’s poisonous or not.” You tried your best to make a joke out of it and laughed, nodding towards the kitchen. “I can make either tea or coffee. What would you prefer? Um, if you’d like to stay, of course.”

“Only if you don’t mind the guy who couldn’t recognise his own neighbor.”

You spent the next hour chatting about anything and everything. Even though you had never been talkative with people you barely knew, Steve had seemed so trustworthy and friendly you were not able to stop. He talked a lot too, telling you more about himself, claiming he was “just a kid from Brooklyn.” He didn’t finish his university degree because of some financial issues and was now working in an auto repair shop. He still wanted to return to engineering, though, but the only jobs he was offered were some unpaid internships and things like that. And he also played guitar. And he had just finished renovating his own apartment.

The only flaw you found was his issue with keeping the rooms clean as he was overly impressed with your place and how tidy it was. Well, it was something.

Then you had somehow told him about your work, new company, colleagues, the event, and… and that imaginary boyfriend of yours. When you realized you complained about your silly lies, it was already late. Steve was biting his lips not to laugh. Oh, great. Now he was thinking how pitiful you were, pretending to have someone in order to gain some respect from your new coworkers. What kind of girl would say these things to a man like him? You were clearly out of your mind. The only good thing about it was that Steve would probably walk out of your apartment and never come back again.

“Please don’t think I’m laughing at you. It’s… a bit funny, I mean, that you think there’s nothing you could do with your issue.” He grinned at you, almost pouting like a little baby. “Think of it, you just need to ask some guy you know to pretend he’s your boyfriend. Ask him to come with you to this holiday event, and then some time later you can say you broke up with him.”

For a minute you fell silent, staring at the guy in front of you with wide eyes.

“Wait, but I don’t know anyone here. I can’t merely go to anyone on the street and ask him to do this for me, right?”

“Well, for starters, you know me.”

[innytoes]

Self-Insert January: Let’s Go Steal A Protégé

Yes I did write a self-insert fanfic of my own fanfic. Most of this was written in December and then um, January happened. This takes place December, probably before Christmas (and is obviously not canon).

Happy Self Insert month!

Being with Leverage, Jamie had seen a lot of weird stuff. Done a lot of weird stuff, too. But all the breaking into highly classified places and museums and pretending to be a circus performer and jumping off the Eiffel Tower did not prepare them for the magic portal that opened up in the ceiling of the Leverage Offices, or the lady that fell through it.

Luckily, their startled yell had summoned an Eliot, which meant that if this was the beginning of an intergalactic space war or some kind of mutant criminal rival of Parker’s, Team Leverage was going to come out on top.

Except Eliot actually put away his knife and greeted the lady, who struggled out of the squashy purple beanbag chair she landed on. “Hardison, Parker, Inny’s here!” he called.

“What the hell is an Inny?” Jamie asked. Was it a species of alien? Was Hardison’s Doctor Who obsession because they literally knew The Doctor? Honestly, it wouldn’t really surprise Jamie.

“I the hell am an Inny,” Ceiling-Lady said, before gasping and pointing at them. Which was concerning, to say the least.

“That’s Inny,” Hardison said, coming into the office and handing the lady one of Jamie’s Mountain Dews. Rude.  “She’s from a darker timeline and drops out of the ceiling once or twice a year to catch up. And get inspiration for her fanfiction. Apparently we’re like, a TV show over there. What’s up, girl?”

“Is that why nobody is allowed to move the beanbag chair?” Jamie asked. They had thought it was some weird Parker thing. Or perhaps that it was on top of some kind of secret trap door to Hardison’s BatCave or something. They ignored the part about the fanfiction and the TV show. That was too Truman Show to think about. Though their brain was already going over actors they’d cast as the team. Eliot would totally be played by Chris Evans, right?

Inny stopped chugging the Mountain Dew long enough to shrug. “They used to live somewhere with way lower ceilings. Nearly broke something falling from this one.”

“Yeah, me,” Eliot grumbled. He nearly broke something again when Parker dropped down from the ceiling onto his back. “Dammit, Parker!”

“Inny!” Parker proclaimed. “How is Deeks?”

“Good!” the lady fished a beaten up phone out of her pocket. “He met some alpacas, wanna see?” Parker snatched up the phone and made delighted noises. Jamie peered over her shoulder. They had to admit the dog was pretty cute, and the alpacas looked very intrigued by their small, same-coloured, short-necked friend.

“How’s life in the darkest timeline?” Hardison asked.

“What date is it here?” the lady asked, looking around. “I mean, if you still know.”

“Why wouldn’t we know?” Parker asked, still swiping through dog pictures.

“Well, I mean, 2020, am I right?” Inny said, waiting for a reaction. She looked incredulous at their blank  faces. “It is 2020, here, right?”

“Um, yeah?” Hardison ventured carefully.

“How dark is this timeline of yours?” Jamie asked carefully. Sure, it was a tumblr joke, usually reserved for stuff like the however-many-renewed-season of Supernatural when great shows were cancelled or whatever creepy feature FriendCzar had tried to impose that month.

The woman paused, frowned, then took a deep breath. “In response to the global pandemic of a deadly respiratory virus, President Donald Trump suggested on television during a briefing that people should inject or ingest bleach to kill the virus.”  She took another big breath. “And that’s not mentioning the fact that he downplayed the seriousness of the virus while knowing how deadly and contagious it was, called it a hoax, made taking safety precautions a political thing instead of a public safety thing, and held massive super-spreader events.”

“Donald Trump?” Jamie asked. “The ‘you’re fired’ dude?”

“Oh my sweet summer child,” Inny responded, before taking another swig of her Mountain Dew. “Yeah, I mean, I thought the fact that Australia was on fire at the start of the year was going to be the only terrible thing I was going to tell you.” She laughed and shook her head ruefully, like that was some kind of funny joke.

“Australia was on fire?”

“Yeah. Parts of the US too, for a while. Orange skies. But since the country was basically on lockdown anyway, it wasn’t like it was very different to stay inside for that…” Jamie stared at the lady, then back at the adults. Parker didn’t look overly concerned, but then, she never really did. Eliot and Hardison were both frowning, though. There was no sign that this was some kind of elaborate prank Hardison was pulling on them with the help of one of Sophie’s acting friends. Besides, he was good, but not ‘fake opening a magic portal in the ceiling’ good. At least not within the five minutes Jamie had been in the other room.

After a litany of horrible things, which were apparently not even all of them, the woman stopped. “On the upside,” she said. “I perfected my banana bread recipe, Deeks met some alpacas, Leverage is getting a reboot, and I figured out why I probably keep dropping in here.”

“To remind us that things aren’t so bad like some messed up version of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?” Hardison guessed.

“Because Jamie is my OC,” she said, dropping a fucking bombshell like she just dropped out of the fucking ceiling. Jamie felt their brain fill with static, because no, they were a real person, and that either meant that this lady was full of bullshit, or, well, basically god. The Truman Show feeling returned ten times over. “This is my fanfic.”

Hardison recoiled a little. “No,” he whispered, fully understanding the implications of that. Hell, it was probably even weirder for him. Sure, knowing they were a TV show was probably cool, even more so with the reboot. But Fanfic Land didn’t fade to black and Jamie was pretty damn sure some kinky shit went on behind the soundproofed doors of their bedroom.

“Now, there’s two prevailing theories about this, as far as my internet rabbithole searches can tell,” Basically God Maybe continued. “Either I wrote this world into existence, because the multiverse is ever expanding and that is one of the ways it expands, or I just got some vibes from whatever crack between worlds keeps bringing me here and wrote down your shenanigans.”

At Parker and Eliot’s blank looks, Jamie clarified: “Basically, she’s either God or…”

“Some kind of shitty false prophet,” the lady on the beanbag chair beamed. “Probably the second one, honestly. My subconscious turns everything into a zombie apocalypse sooner or later, and you guys seem to be fine.”

Jamie whipped around to look at Hardison and Eliot, hopeful. “We’re fine, right?” they asked quickly. If anyone knew about a starting zombie apocalypse, it would be those two. Between Hardison poking around in basically every intelligence agency’s server ever and Eliot’s contacts, they’d know. God, Jamie hoped not. They were so not ready for a zombie apocalypse. Eliot hadn’t even taught them how to murder someone with an axe yet.

“We are definitely fine,” Hardison assured them.

“Yeah, I figured,” Not-God agreed. “If I had my say, Eliot would have stopped pining long before he did and kissed you guys.” Eliot grumbled and glared, probably because she was right. Parker patted him condescendingly on the head, which wasn’t helping matters.

The ceiling started crackling and glowing ominously. The lady put her can down as she slowly drifted off the beanbag, alien-abduction style. “Well, it’s been real. Be good, guys. Have some fun adventures. Ruin some rich douchebag’s day for me.”

“Will do,” Parker promised. “Say hi to your dog for me.” She got a thumbs up.

“Let us know how the reboot turns out,” Hardison said. Jamie figured it would probably fuck with the space-time continuum if she downloaded the show and brought it to them, but who knew. Maybe there was some kind of loophole for that, too. They were kind of curious to see what a Leverage show would look like. It probably had kickass fight-scenes.

“Stay safe,” Eliot said seriously. He’d been the most concerned about the talk of the pandemic, probably because you couldn’t punch it.

“Will do,” Inny shrugged. “I mean, 2021 can’t possibly be any worse, right?”

The portal crackled louder, which Jamie hoped wasn’t a sign. The lady was almost at the ceiling. She looked concerned, like she realised she just totally jinxed herself and the new year.

“Hey, just in case you are god,” Jamie called up. “Can you give me superpowers?”

The portal closed to the sound of laughter, and then there was silence. All that remained was a dent in the beanbag and an empty can of Mountain Dew.

“What the fuck,” they told the room at large.

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Parker said, before wandering off back to the blueprints she had been studying.

“I’m just gonna… check some things,” Hardison muttered, making a detour to the kitchen to grab a ginormous bottle of orange soda before getting behind his computer. “And buy a bunch of disinfectant and toilet paper, just in case.”

Eliot rolled his eyes, before bumping his shoulder against Jamie’s. “Come on,” he said.

“Come on where?” Jamie asked. “I’m having a bit of an existential crisis here.” If they were someone’s OC, did that mean that they didn’t have free will? Did it mean that all the cool things they had done the past year had only been because of some weird lady that fell out of the ceiling? Or did it mean-

“I’m gonna teach you to throw a knife so you can take out a zombie,” Eliot said.

Fuck that, the existential crisis could wait until 2am. They had more important things to do. Knife throwing would be fun and useful no matter if there was a zombie apocalypse or a pandemic, or they got superpowers.

[the-navistar-carol]

Daminette Songfic: ‘Summer of ‘69’ by Bryan Adams

From the Maribat AU of @ozmav

@maribat-archive I’m back at it again >:)

I got my first real six-string

Bought it at the five-and-dime

When he had first been taken in by Bruce Wayne, he had turned up his nose at the prospect of entertaining some kid superhero from France. She wasn’t going to be impressive.

She wasn’t even going to be good!

Man, Damian thought to himself, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, was I wrong.

Played it 'til my fingers bled

Was the summer of '69

It had taken forever for them to even consider being on speaking terms, let alone friends. That alone had been a marvel in and of itself.

Not that he’d trade it for anything in the universe. If it came to it, he would probably let the world burn for another minute with her.

“Dude,” Dick had whistled. “You are whipped.”

Again, he’d turned up his nose at the prospect. He hadn’t even known what the former Robin had meant.

But yeah. I had been.

Me and some guys from school

Had a band and we tried real hard

She’d never given up, not even when she was flung into the floor. Not that she did now. Ladybug, Marinette, was and is the greatest girl he knew.

Top of her class, an aspiring designer, with the biggest heart he had ever seen. And not only that, but she was a superhero, saving cities on the daily and pulling the croissants out of the oven.

At least he had a family, people who were there as backup. And not to mention the budget of a billionaire.

She managed with a family who barely knew what she got herself into, a class who had turned against her, and the funds of a bakery. Plus public schooling.

Damn, he mused. If she was one of us, look out Joker.

Jimmy quit, Jody got married

I should've known we'd never get far

Dick had befriended her first. Well, second, after Alfred. But he had taken the first step.

His teasing had never failed to make her laugh, giggles scrunching up her nose and a beaming smile that lit up the room. Ladybug and Nightwing would have late-night philosophy talks, making each other think beyond their boundaries.

She’d taught him to bake, always there with patience when he’d fudged a recipe.

The eldest Robin had shown her more complicated gymnastics (not that she wasn’t already more flexible than most of them would ever be), and acrobatics that turned her every slip and fall into a tumble, and she’d roll right back up onto her feet.

Dick had taught her how to get back up.

Oh, when I look back now

That summer seemed to last forever

Jason had taken her under his wing after Dick.

Whenever she’d curled into a ball, shuddering after a hard practice, he would toss her into the air and take off like a shot, careening through the halls of Wayne Manor. It wasn’t long before her laughs rang off the walls, the Red Hood with a wild grin.

They had the sibling dynamic — there for each other, even at their faults.

Marinette had introduced Jason to color schemes and designs, at least how costumes worked. It was most definitely because of that awful helmet.

Jason, on the other hand, had taught her how to shoot. It was out of necessity, he claimed. If she didn’t know how to defend herself, and her yo-yo was out of reach, she may not have a choice.

Jason had given her the tactics nobody thought she would know.

And if I had the choice

Yeah, I'd always wanna be there

Tim had warmed up to her third, although he had been a bit worried about her age.

As her superhero duties became more needed back in Paris, the two of them started working together at night, on cases none of the rest could crack. The Insomnia Buddies, she’d dubbed them. Or, rather, as Tim called them, the Coffee Crew.

Whenever he became stressed to the point of a breakdown, she taught him meditation, she taught him calm.

The Red Robin showed her computers, and how to bypass firewalls with a tap of a key. Underhanded, but in case she needed the information.

Tim had taught her how to think.

Those were the best days of my life

He, Damian, had taken the longest. It had taken years to become as close to her as the other three were.

But they eventually bonded over common interest and curiosity about the other, growing closer every time they spent an hour in each other’s presence.

Marinette opened his mind to possibilities outside simply what had been placed in front of him. You never have only two choices, she told him firmly, eyes narrowed in determination. Never.

The newest Robin may not have been the first to pick her back up after a tough spar, but he would always be there in a real one, whether it was to take the hit or let her rest.

He, Damian, had given her a real partner.

Ain't no use in complaining

When you've got a job to do

The summers she spent at Gotham had become less of a chore and more like a long-lost family member returning to them. They gained inside jokes, and Skype chats between Gotham and France became more common, until it was almost an everyday thing.

They watched each other grow from bratty kids to mature teenagers, from gangly to sure of themselves.

And man, had her almost literal transformation had him whipped.

Watch out, Hawkmoth.

Spent my evenings down at the drive-in

And that's when I met you, yeah

He’d joined an exchange program to Paris, planning on not telling her, but of course the day he had Jason blurted it out on their nightly video call.

She’d gone absolutely red, and fallen off her desk chair with a loud thud. To this day, it brought a smile to his face.

“R-really?” Her voice had been hesitant, but excited nonetheless. “I can’t believe it! When are you coming?”

Dick, from his position out of the way of the camera, gave Damian a knowing look, a wry grin, and a small wiggle of his eyebrows.

Dumbass.

Standin' on your mama's porch

You told me that you'd wait forever

It wasn’t long after that announcement, when she was in her final year of lyceé, that her video chats had started to become more… tired. She’d change the subject whenever they talked about her classmates or, worse, her friends.

It wasn’t only him who had noticed it. Tim had been the first to pick it up, and immediately set off on finding information about the class. Without telling Marinette, of course.

What he found was no concrete proof, but more videos on the Ladyblog detailed a girl named Lila Rossi.

An awful liar if he ever saw one.

Oh, and when you held my hand

I knew that it was now or never

The detective work lasted a week and a half before it was outed. Marinette didn’t get mad about it, but simply hung her head and apologized for not telling them.

His heart had torn to see his angel beaten down like this.

She was across the ocean, president of a class he couldn’t defend her against.

He, Robin, a superhero, was useless.

The exchange program left in six months.

Too long.

Those were the best days of my life

He went to her over winter break, though. Thank whatever higher power he could.

As soon as he had stepped into her room with the door closed, she had broken down in his arms. His brothers were right behind him, and joined the hug with words of comfort and encouragement.

It had taken her half an hour to calm down, but when she had finished, they were tears of happiness. Happiness that they were there for her.

“We’re gonna make this the best two weeks of your year, little lady” Jason had promised her with a crooked grin, the white patch in his hair tousled.

Tim didn’t miss the way she looked away at the word lady. “Mari-bug, what’s going on?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and tugged Damian over to her bed, not wanting to let go of him. “It’s a long story.”

We aren’t going anywhere, angel.

Oh, yeah.

Back in the summer of '69

When she finished, she had had to take breaks three times—three times!—to calm herself down.

“And I’ve almost been akumatised because of this, a few times,” she admitted, her voice a quiet whisper. “I figured out how to not let my emotions get the best of me, though. My parents don’t really know.”

Jason’s expression clearly told Damian he was in need of a skinning knife. Or guns. Guns were faster.

A series of pops filled the room. Dick, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, had popped his knuckles. “I think that it’s time some other people knew the harm Lila caused.”

“And if she gets akumatised,” Damian added, “she’s well deserved it.”

“She can’t keep going like this and not receive the consequences,” Tim put in. “It’s not right.”

Hell’s coming to Lila Rossi.

Man we were killin' time

We were young and restless

And the damned Lila situation didn’t even begin to cover Chat Noir. But Marinette insisted they get away from the topic.

She was on winter break, dammit, and Jason was hellbent on making good on his promise.

Tim had the best idea, oddly enough. An arcade.

While Damian had found the concept childish at best, the way Marinette’s eyes lit up at the prospect quickly stilled any protest.

To the flashy lights and cheap prizes we go.

We needed to unwind

I guess nothin' can last forever, forever, no! yeah!

Once they got there, Dick was quick to pull out his credit card and get a near- unlimited token supply. He nudged Damian with a sly grin. “Get her a big prize, loverboy.”

Thankfully, he said it out of her hearing range. Then he pushed him over, and they toured the arcade together.

Naturally, Jason was a master at the shooting games. Tim was an unexpected genius at Guitar Hero. Dick, of course, managed to beat the highscore on DDR by a good hundred thousand points. Show-off.

You deserve all the joy, angel.

And now the times are changin'

Look at everything that's come and gone

The two weeks had come and gone like nothing. But the two months afterward were an absolute hell of a waiting game.

But Marinette was happier, knowing that her Gotham friends were there for her.

“He’s still whipped,” Dick cackled one night after a video call.

Tim grinned, and ruffled Damian’s hair. “I can see why.”

He’d only growled at them, but they persisted anyway, giving bad advice they knew full well was awful.

But what else were brothers for?

Sometimes when I play that old six-string

I think about you, wonder what went wrong

The exchange program left them in Mlle. Bustier’s class. Well, at least Damian and a few schoolmates.

He could see just how bad the class was for himself.

At his first step into the class, he had been mobbed by a tanned brunette (Lila) claiming to be his lost soulmate, which he quickly and sharply shut down, and proceeded to sit next to Marinette.

Damian could hear her fake sobs from all the way in the back.

“Can you believe it?! He doesn’t remember me!”

Oh, fuck off.

Standin' on your mama's porch

You told me that it'd last forever

He stood, furious, and proceeded to give a thorough explanation on why she was wrong, a liar, and an awful person.

“I’ve never met you, I’ve known Marinette since I was ten, and I don’t see how the daughter of a single French domestic diplomat would ever meet an American at a charity gala in Gotham!”

Silence.

Then explosion.

Not fiery, of course. Of apologies, launched directly at Marinette.

She simply raised a hand to quell them in their tracks. “Some of you I will be able to forgive. Some of you I will not be. Thank you for your apologies.” Her tone was nowhere near the broken girl who had sobbed in his arms two months ago. She was reforged, stronger than steel.

And with a head held high like that, nothing can bring you down.

Oh, and when you held my hand

I knew that it was now or never

Nathanaël, Alix, Ivan, Myléne. They were able to be forgiven easier than the rest.

Sabrina and Chloé, she was neutral to. They, if they wanted to gain her trust, had a neutral starting ground.

Max, Kim, Nino. They were forgiven less easily, and would take weeks to even be on friendly terms again.

Alya, Lila, and Adrien she probably never would.

And he was perfectly fine with that.

They don’t deserve her.

Those were the best days of my life

Near the end of the exchange program, he took her to the Eiffel Tower as the sun set, overlooking all of Paris. He wasn’t nervous, of course he wasn’t. Damian Wayne, nervous in front of the girl he had been absolutely whipped for for the better part of a year?

Oh, you better believe it.

At the top tier, he covered her eyes for the entirety of the ride.

“Damiaan.” She was struggling to hide giggles. “I’ve seen this before, y’know?”

“Nah,” he grinned. “You haven’t.”

The top deck was empty, devoid of any and all tourists.

And then the fireworks started, filling the sky with all the colors of the rainbow.

Worth it.

Oh, yeah

Back in the summer of '69, oh

She grabbed his hand, eyes widening in surprise as a dazzling smile swept any amusement off her face and replaced it with wonder. “Oh my God, Dami.”

“I told you, you haven’t seen this before.”

“Wait— you— for me?”

Don’t you dare freeze.

“For you,” he agreed. “I love you, Marinette.”

Those words had been like weights—saying them the first time was hard.

It was the summer of '69, oh, yeah

Me and my baby in '69, oh

She didn’t say anything, only turned her gaze away from the fireworks and to him, the colorful explosions mirrored in her silver eyes. She was close, he could quite distinctly smell the strawberry lip gloss.

“Dami, I…” Hesitation. Shit.

Then, she launched herself at him, arms going around his neck as she crushed him in a tight hug. His arms came up to pull her close.

“I love you too, you extra idiot!”

Oh.

It was the summer,

They had shared a first kiss then, beneath the fireworks and the stars and the moon.

Neither of them were particularly any good, and she kept giggling, but he wouldn’t have traded it for anybody else.

Nor anywhere else.

Never in the world.

the summer,

This time, after she had graduated université, started as a designer, and finally moved to Gotham, they didn’t have to wait for time zones.

This time, as he caught his breath when he saw her in dazzling white, they would never have to wait again.

And this time, they could face things together.

Was he still absolutely whipped for Marinette Dupain-Cheng?

Always.

the summer of '69, yeah

[mossrotts]

[[MORE]]

man it has been just. a rough year. like, OBVIOUSLY. for everyone. but like, jesus.

last october my ferret of several years and just, boy real close to my heart, was very old and got cancer. he got horrific tumors, some of which were able to be surgically removed, but ultimately we had to put him down the day before halloween.

we thought his much younger companion was struggling with greiving and ended up getting a new ferret, but when it wasn't going away and was getting worse we took him in and found out he had cancer as well. no chance of operation. i know he was with us and surrounded by our love his last days but i can't describe to you the struggle of forcing him to eat and take his meds and watching his violent and speedy downward spiral. went he can no longer keep anything down we make an appointment to put him down, but he passed away late december before that time arrived.

my dad collapsed in the shower in january. he never truly comes back from this. after some misdiagnosis, it is confirmed that he has brain cancer. multiple tumors. the last months with my ferrets felt like a sick trial run leading up to this.

months of 20-hr round trips, abusive family members, mourning, chemo. doctors telling us he'd have a couple years, then saying one year, then months, then weeks. he passed away end of may, literal days before he and my mom were making a move to utah so he could be around family.

helping my mom with arrangements, helping her with moving.

then months of struggling at work where i am a caregiver--corona scares, people quitting or getting sick and so much pressure putting on those remaining. continuation of contact with abusive family.

my dad's funeral was in september. days before a stray cat we sometimes see wandered into our house with an obvious injury. vet appointments to take care of this.

after the funeral and another vet appointment, we find out the cat has fiv (feline hiv). they ask us right there if we want to put him down. we determine he'll have a good quality of life at least for awhile and choose not to. we make an appointment for our other cats to see if they've contacted fiv from contact.

we find they thankfully have not. but literally during this appointment my roommate gets a call and find out their stepdad has passed away. he was a piece of shit but we drive out to california, my roommate does what they can, and we come back.

i;d probably be in debt if not for the help of a friend that i need to figure out how to show my appreciation to. but anything i've saved is gone, got nothing for my name change and top surgery rn. can't see a therapist for lack of funds rn and depressed as fuck.

we've been back for a couple weeks now. back in time for halloween, but i've felt so disappointed and, idk, kinda guilty that i haven't been able to celebrate? like i'm HERE goddammit. no immediate emergencies, i'm here, but it doesn't feel like halloween and it's not fair.

maybe that's why i'm writing this out, trying to contextualize it. year of tragedies on top of a pandemic so of course i'm low and tired and burnt out. it's okay it doesn't feel like halloween.

and maybe that has to do with what i like halloween to be?

i think celebrating halloween for me is celebrating creativity. enjoying media, enjoying the content that my friends produce, the influx of artwork and stories--even though it's not the child version of 'magic in the air' or 'anything can happen' during the spooky season, it's still a version of that. there's magic in knowing i get to explore the creativity of others, to see their worlds and imagination. not to mention revisiting the nostalgia of media i've enjoyed before. and share my own!

in my own track record, october is the time i create the most. but i've done nothing this month. no completed art, nothing written. nothing created.

i haven't gotten a chance to see as much of what my friends are doing, i feel like i'm in a constant state of catching up, i haven't watched any of my favorite movies, didn't get to read a new book, haven't done any of the autumn recipes i generally like. didn't even get a chance to carve my pumpkin. didn't create.

and i'm working with that guilt, i know it's not fair to blame myself. and logically i know that's just how this year's gonna be, in the long run it'll be okay that this year wasn't celebrated.

but at the same time it just. sucks.

[logicalbookthief]

76 on the prompt list :>>> excited to see what u come up w/

Anon, your faith in me was truly misguided. I saw this prompt and went, “ooh, ok, let’s do some heartfelt angst,” and then as I started that my brain went, “nah, this instead.”

And by this, I mean “domestic & married Reddie being gross and in love and having a drama queen for a kid”

*

*

Prompt: 76 – “It could be worse. They could be dating.” “Wait. They are?!”

Summary: “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?!” Eddie says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.

*

*

Richie kicks the door closed with his foot, already slipping it halfway out of his shoe. He dumps his duffel on the floor, which Eddie’ll chide him for later. That’s a problem for future Richie, not present Richie, who’s running on pure caffeine after his non-stop flight from Atlanta to LA.

The distant thump of 80s music lures him to the kitchen. Eddie’s humming along to the radio as he rinses lettuce for one of his seasonal salads. Richie would bet his life it includes pine nuts. 

Padding quietly across the hardwood, Richie warps his arms around his husband from behind. “Honey, I’m home!”

Eddie jolts, relaxing the minute he feels the frame of Richie’s glasses against his head. “Jesus,” he sighs, dropping to a whisper. “Jack, what’re you doing, you know my husband’s coming home today!”

“Jack?!” Richie squawks, twisting him around by the lapels. “As in, our mailman?”

“Oh, whoops,” Eddie feigns shock, the facade lasting all of a second before he throws his arms around Richie’s neck, swooping in for a kiss. 

Richie moans, a little satisfied hum against Eddie’s lips. “Where’s my other sweetheart?”

His husband adjusts his shirt where it’s riding up, due to his Richie’s wandering hands. “Moping,” he explains, delicately.

“She’s seven. What does she have to mope about?” Richie deadpans. His mouth twists into a grimace. “Wait. Are you trying the tuna casserole recipe again?”

Eddie whips around. “What the fuck’s wrong with my–?”

“Nothing!” he answers quickly. Eddie narrows his eyes, wielding the salad-spinner like he wants to use it on something besides leafy greens. “So what’s eating my little Spaghetti-o?”

“Mrs. Diaz separated her from her cubby-buddy, Jonas,” Eddie informs, eyebrows rocketing to his hairline. “Apparently they were too disruptive as a pair.”

“Jonas? Isn’t that the nose-picker?” He regrets this observation as Eddie gags over the croutons. 

Everyone has a thing, a thing that trips the gag reflex. Many things bring out that response in Eddie, yet none so viscerally as his aversion to snot, boogers, and the like. Ever since they were kids, it was the surefire way to make him heave. Even if the snot in question was connected to their child.

So when it came to boogers, Richie was the go-to parent, while Eddie graciously agreed to handle the diaper meltdowns. After all, the key to a successful marriage is compromise. Compromise, and lots of Clorox wipes. 

At the school’s Christmas pageant last year, the boy standing next to Nina started digging for gold halfway through Twelve Days of Christmas and found a nugget before they hit two turtle-doves. Poor Eds nearly hurled in Richie’s lap. 

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie shudders. “Anyway, she’s heartbroken over it. As soon as we got home she ran to her room. I tried to talk to her when I brought her a snack and she asked me to please give her time.”

Richie imagines that coming out of his seven-year-old’s mouth and snorts. “Sorry,” he adds. “Not funny.”

Eddie ducks his chin to hide his smile. “Even for her, it’s a tad overdramatic,” he admits, glancing up at Richie through his lashes. “I didn’t have the heart to pester her, but, maybe since you’re home…”

“I’m on it!” Richie stretches the lingering kinks out of his neck. “I’m a world-famous comedian back from a sold-out show. Cheering our daughter up should be a cinch.”

“Mhm,” Eddie intones, not sounding very confident. Which, rude. He seems rather distracted by the length of Richie’s biceps as they stretch over his head. His eyes gleam with an anticipation that has nothing to do with salad. Richie’s got the same itch crawling beneath his skin and he’s very eager to scratch it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and the dick grow harder. 

His knocks at Nina’s room are ignored, so Richie gently pushes the door open to peer inside. At the sight of his daughter curled up on the bed, he breaks into a smile.

“Eyyy, there’s my girl!” 

Nina raises her head from the pillow, uttering a curt, “Hi, Dad.”

Well, that’s far less enthusiasm than he was expecting. Considering he was gone for almost a week. Nothing like a child’s indifference to keep you humble.

“Aww, sweetie, what’s wrong?” His ears perk at the soft croon of Whitney Houston in the background. “And … what the heck are you listening to?”

“Playlist,” she mutters, blindly flinging an arm toward her device. She’s got it open to his Spotify. 

Richie should probably delete the app from her tablet, like, yesterday. If she ever stumbles across his “Songs to fuck Eddie to” playlist he’ll have to commit samurai-suicide.

However. Given this playlist is called “Sad love songs to cry into your Chipotle burrito,” Richie has a better idea of what type of crisis he’s dealing with here. 

“Sooo, uh. Your daddy told me. You and Jonas, you two are…?” He winces at her lip-tremble, which confirms his worst suspicions. “That’s rough, kiddo.”

“I’ll never be happy again,” Nina sniffs miserably. “I love Jonas and now we’ll never see each other!”

“You are still in the same class,” Richie points out.

She whirls on him, eyes flashing lividly.

“We sit by last names! His is at the beginning, mine’s at the end!” With more venom than a child should be capable of, she hisses, “I hate the alphabet.” 

“O-Kay,” says Richie, truly at a loss. Luckily, she doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it anymore. Instead she stuffs her face back in the pillow, not quite fluffy enough to absorb her lovelorn sigh.

He pets her hair, curling it around his fingers, until the sniffles eventually dwindle. “Do you want us to make you a special dinner? Anything you want,” Richie cajoles.

Nina thinks it over, tilting her cheek enough to say, “Can you ask Daddy to make tuna casserole?”

Richie blanches. “Wha– Why?”

“I want my belly to feel as bad as my heart,” she mumbles.

He manages to keep a straight face as he bends to kiss her brow and leaves her to sulk, but it’s a close call. When he reports back to the kitchen with his news, there’s no tact necessary.

Eddie laughs ‘til he’s out of breath. “It isn’t funny,” he repeats, slightly winded.

“Of course not,” Richie agrees, failing to stifle his own grin.

“I love her, I’m sorry she’s hurting, but she’s so–”

“Theatric?”

“She gets that from you,” Eddie accuses.

“Excuse a moi?” Richie balks. “This, coming from the guy who kissed me out of the deadlights like some low-budget horror rebut of Sleeping Beauty?”

“What, should I have let the clown eat you?” Eddie glances his way, slyly. “I was referring to middle school. When you spent an entire night cranking your mom’s Bonnie Tyler records because I said you kind of looked like a frog, and you remembered how three weeks ago I told Bev I’d never kiss a frog even if it turned into a handsome prince?”

“Fucking Stanley,”  Richie huffs. “I swore him to secrecy. We spit on it and everything.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “At least for Nina, it’s only a crush. It could be worse,” he scoffs. “They could be dating.”

Richie tries to school his expression, he does, but – the thing is. After spending almost their whole fucking lives together, minus those twenty-two years of amnesia in between, Eddie can spot his tells from a mile away.

“Wait. They are?!” He slaps a hand over his mouth, aghast. “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?”

He says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.

“Ugh, Rich, that–ew! What if they hold hands after h–he–”

The suggestion of it alone has Eddie bending over the sink.

“Babe, c’mon.” Richie soothes a palm up-and-down his spine. “You’ve drilled the importance of hand-washing into Nina since she could walk. I doubt she’s carrying around any clingers.”

On cue, Eddie lets loose another dry heave.

“Will you stop?” he groans, glaring over his shoulder at Richie. “This is awful. Literally, of all the kids in her class, why this one?” 

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” says Richie, though Eddie’s eyebrows beg to differ. He loves his husband, deeply, irrevocably, but he’s also one of most ridiculous people on the planet. “Remember, we like Jonas? Jonas is nice! If a little unsanitary… He’ll grow out of it, though. Like I did.”

The words leave his mouth before his brain can flash any of the red warning signs. Slowly, ever so slowly, Eddie turns. They lock eyes. His gaze brims with the horror of this realization.

“Are you saying,” Eddie begins, dangerously low, “that you used to pick your nose when we were kids a-and then, you’d touch me?”

“Used to?” Richie grabs the fleeing Eddie and hauls him back before he really does leave him for their incredibly buff mailman.

“Babe!” he chuckles. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I swear! I swear on Ben’s chiseled abs!”

“Disgusting, you’re disgusting,” Eddie grumbles, wriggling in his grasp. “Let go of me, don’t even think of touching me with–”

All of a sudden, Eddie squeals, wracked with a full-bodied spasm.

“With what?” Richie taunts, continuing to tickle him. “With these filthy, boogery fingers of mine?”

“St–op!” Eddie wheezes. “I’m gonna piss my pants!”

“Don’t exploit my pee kink,” he snaps, which only makes Eddie wheeze harder.

“I’ve had my fingers in your ass,” Richie reminds. “In fact, you love my fingers in your ass.”

Whether from embarrassment or exertion, Eddie flushes. “Fuck you, that’s extremely different!”

“You’re right, it’s probably more disgusting.” Teeth skirting over his earlobe, Richie leans down, his voice a sultry hush, “Because I like to use my mouth there, too.”

Eddie muffles a moan into his fist. “I see what you’re doing,” he grits out. “And it won’t work. No way I’m sleeping with you now, nose-picker.”

Richie makes a wounded noise, clutching him more firmly to his chest. “Please, Eds, baby, I can change! I’ll go to meetings, therapy– I’ll never stick my finger anywhere you don’t want again!”

“I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same.” Eddie’s reply cuts off into a giggle as those fingers attack his flank. “Seriously, Rich, I am going to–!” 

They’re interrupted by the violent swing of Nina’s door against the wall.

“Will you two keep it down?!” she shouts. “I’m trying to mourn!”

The door slams shut again. They gawk at each other in silence. Finally, Richie pools enough blood into his brain to speak.

“Are we terrible parents?”

Eddie kisses the underside of his chin. “Ask me that when your semi isn’t plastered against my ass,” he says, flatly.

*

*

@trashmouth_tozier

Hi my name is Richie and I’m a recovering nose-picker. Ages 3 thru 9 were rough, but with the support of my dear husband, I’ve managed to keep my fingers clean. Hope my story can help inspire someone else xx

*

*

Bev: why did Eddie ask for the number of my divorce lawyer ?

Bev: nvm I saw your tweet

*

*

Am I projecting my own snot-induced gag reflex onto Eddie? Yes. Do I still believe my characterization was spot-on? Yes again.  

[allthebooksandcrannies]

i just need to vent here

NI’m going to put a read more link in here so its not just this extremely long post but i need to vent where no one i know is going to see it and get all offended but i also need to look like i’m doing gre prep. this is mostly me just yelling into the void but i’d also appreciate any advice or feedback anyone wants to give.

i don’t want to accidentally hurt someone so trigger warnings for discussion of eating disorders, depression, anxiety, emotional crisis, mention of rape, mention of homophobia, dead dove do not eat

so, my mom and i had another fight last night that kinda picked up again this morning and i feel really shitty but i’m not gonna stop obsessing over it and everything else it stirred up until i get it out so i’m just gonna stream of consciousness over here.

lately it seems all my mom ever do is fight and i made her cry again so i guess that makes me the asshole because the guilt is real right not but guilt and self-hatred is also my general default i think so maybe i’m being to hard on myself? like, its not like i also didn’t want to cry and i feel like she took my words and twisted them around into something i didn’t mean but i also don’t know what i meant. and we’re both so similar so maybe we were just both being defensive and oversensitive even though we both give Dad shit for that and great now i feel bad about that because i always take her side in fights because i feel like i need to protect her and my brother always takes his side but that’s a whole other can of worms. but also, so what if we are? like aren’t all emotions supposed to be valid? or does it matter even if they are?

we fight about everything these days and every joke i make offends her and i’m just teasing but she keeps taking it to the extreme, taking it as criticism on issues i’m not even talking about. and this time i was defensive and she was defensive because i was defensive and i tried to explain it and it just made it worse.

like, this time we were talking and i don’t remember how we got on the subject but i think it was because we were talking about this new diet my dad is going on because my paternal grandmother  won’t stop blaming my mom for my dad being so overweight and i know i should have been stepping lightly because dad had just been teasing her for saying she wished the nutritionist would have found some easy to fix problem other than his diet/activity levels so his mom would get off her ass about it. and like, i get why my grandmother is concerned, he is very overweight and needs an ankle replacement he can’t get until he loses like 150 lbs and she already has an unhealthy paranoia about her own weight after an entire childhood of her own mother fatshaming her and her sisters but also it’s ridiculous to just blame my mother and her cooking considering that when he put on all the weight originally it was when he was working for his uncle and only ate one meal she cooked a day and was going to fast food places twice a day, like the dude has some responsibility here, but also he carries it just like his dad, male cousins, and three paternal uncles so there’s obviously some genetics working against him, but most importantly right around the time this first started he fell through a roof at a construction site and completely shattered all the bones in his right ankle and was completely bedridden for over a year while on serious painkillers that probably didn’t help. but anyway she was already upset and in a weird headspace because she had an eating disorder in high school, so i should have been more careful and empathetic but she started talking about one of my roommates and how health conscious she is and how thin she is and how she probably has eating disorder and i kinda snapped because i know she means well but damn if it didn’t bring up so many other issues that i was just slammed right back into 

because she always has something to say about my friends. for as long as i can remember she has criticized my friends in ways that makes me question my relationship with them and i know she just is trying to protect me and be involved in my life but her good intentions are still a major cause of so many of my issues and i was end up lonelier and more self-isolating as a result. and my roommates are my best friends and the one she criticizes the most (like what feels like every time we talk about her, to the point where she’s convinced my mom hates her) has been so important in showing me how sheltered and naive i was and has brought me out of my shell and helped with my self-worth so much and is literally the first person in my life who told me i don’t have to always be looking out for other before myself. i don’t owe the world and its okay to live for me sometimes.

and this one, she’s so quiet and she doesn’t like to interact with people she doesn’t deem worth her time and maybe she can be a little cold and judgy but she’s always good to me and she’s been protective and as someone who has always been on the outside of every group the fact that she deems me worth her time and her advice really means a lot and i can acknowledge her flaws but just earlier this weak my mom was talking about how cold she thinks megan is so i was already primed to be defensive. so my mom starts talking about how megan probably has a body image issue since she’s so conscious of her weight and i’m like??? she never talks about weight. the only time she talks about food is when we’re comparing recipes and yeah she eats healthy and puts effort into that but she’s a lifelong vegetarian and she’s usually trying to balance that out with her needs as a cross country runner but because she’s not competing anymore apparently that means that the fact that she still runs every morning and eats like a cross country runner when she doesn’t have to (never mind that she still runs marathons, and she likes running) means she has body image issues and the when we go out for ice cream she’s overindulging because of it. and look at how skinny she is, even though she’s 4′ 10″ and all muscle, like i’d be worried if she wasn’t?

and maybe i’m in denial but i think i would know. i’ve lived with her three years and my mom has met her like six times and never longer than an hour at a time. and she says she was just trying to help me be a good friend and her words fit but her tone came off as criticising and maybe i jumped to conclusions but it felt like one more thing that was wrong with me and my friendship. and maybe i’m just being defensive because on some level i’m worried that what if she’s right, that means i’ve been oblivious and a bad friend and  is she calling me a bad friend, like is that coming from me or just my own insecurities? because i am insecure about whether i’m capable of being a good friend because i always end up left behind and mom keeps saying that i intimidate them or make them feel judged or guilty because i always stick to the rules and do i come off judgy? i don’t try to i try so hard to be openminded but then i’m just accused of becoming a screaming liberal what do you want from me, i just don’t know how to be anything but a pleaser. 

anyway i made the mistake this morning of responding when she was telling me that she doesn’t understand why i’m so defensive and i told her the truth that she has always criticized my friends be it that “piper was obviously raised without enough supervision and that’s why she drinks and likes to push boundaries and wants to be older than she is which is why i’m worried about her influence on you” never mind that we’re 21 and she hasn’t done anything i don’t know for a fact my mom did at her age. and then courtney and jai-lyn and jessica and all the girls i hung out with in the library who were my only close friendships in middle school, they were just weird and had weird interests, even though all our interests were the same and i was also the “weird” kid at school, that’s why i didn’t have friends. we were weird because we were good at school, we were passionate about the books we were reading, we were stereotypical middle school fangirls, but at least we were happy? and we were age appropriate but it was never good enough and i should hang out more with the sort of girls on student council and on sports teams never mind that i tried that and we didn’t have anything in common, and they were mean and i was happy with my friends and i get she wanted to help but when i did have a problem with that group when i was upset that hope had been secretly pregnant in high school and had her sister lie to us for months and we only found out because she posted a photo at seven months on facebook and i was just upset she hadn’t trusted us to have her back when we had been so close and just wanted to vent to my mother and have her on my side it was all “well maybe you should have been more approachable and less judgmental like you’re being now” like i know that but i just wanted someone to acknowledge that the lying was shitty. and even if i did mess up, i was fifteen and just wanted my mom to be conforting. but i can never vent because all i get are suggestions on what to do better and i appreciate the intent, i do, but occasionally i would like to be told that i’m good enough.

so anyway i said that i was wrong to be so defensive i just felt that she was trying to criticize either my friend or my ability to perceive my friend because when she complains about my friends i feel like i have to defend myself and them. and she went off on my about how she was just trying to help me be a good friend so that i would be able to be there for her because her own friends hadn’t been there for her, and her mom hadn’t supported her, and no one believed her when she was raped and since i know that i should be a little more aware, and i should know that my mother is not an evil person, and that she is not trying to be malicious, and how hurt she is by me saying that she criticizes my friends when i have heard her say the same thing about her mother, and how dare i imply she’s a bad mom like her mother when i know how much she has hurt her” and this whole time i’m trying to explain that i know she’s not trying to hurt me, i know her intentions are good, i’m just trying to say how it made me feel but she’s talking over me and i’m also annoyed that she’s kinda implying that if we hadn’t had this conversation i wouldn’t be there for my friend when she needed me and also implying that i wouldn’t believe my friends if they came to me about a sexual assault. like, give me some credit here. i’m usually the one between my mother and i who’s saying we need to address rape culture, and women’s word should be more valued, but now i’m the bad guy because it hasn’t happened to me.

and i know my mom had trauma. so many of her parenting choices so obviously link back to what i know about her past.  She was the youngest of three kids and an accident later in life so her parents were kinda sick of the whole parenting thing and were almost completely hands-off, which let my mom get in a lot of bad situations, so she micromanaged everything. I was the textbook overachieving child has no idea what to do when everyone else catches up. i got good grades in school, so if my grades ever were less than perfect i apparently wasn’t trying hard enough and she knew i could do better so why was i letting myself down like this and when i got straight a’s or awards it wasn’t “i’m so proud of how hard you worked” it was “i’m proud of how smart you are” or “i wish i had been that smart” which sounded nice but ignored that i had to bust my ass for those grades, at the expense of extracurriculars and friendships and my mental health to the point that i had a breakdown in the middle of my senior english class over getting an 89 on essay because failing wan’t okay and anything that would drop my grade from an A+ was a failure. nevermind that my little brother was rewarded anytime he got a grade higher than a D because they expected them to fail. 

and its like that in so many areas. nothing i ever do is good enough on its own. its just “okay, now what are you going to do next” and I feel like i’m drowning here. If its not my friends, it’s my lack of a dating life. My whole childhood, she told me not to get married or have kids young because it would ruin my life (she was twenty when she married my dad and 21 when she had me) and how disappointing it was to see all these young girls more focused on dating and romantic validation instead of school or their careers. She was happy i didn’t date in high school (I didn’t have the time to date and still get perfect grades, even if i had wanted to). but now i’m about to graduate college and have still never been in a relationship (i still don’t have time to get good grades, have a job [since i’m mostly on my own for school costs], write a thesis for the honors program she wouldn’t let me drop, hang out with friends and date, and i’m pretty sure i’m ace) and suddenly she wants to ask me about whether i’m seeing someone every time i call home and is getting progressively more frustrated that “i’m too shy and not willing to make this a priority”. and 1) why the hell would you think it was going to magically become a priority when my whole life you have told me it shouldn’t be, and 2) i’m pretty sure i’m asexual, and have no fucking clue what my romantic orientation is but i might be into girls a little because the closest things to crushes I've ever had have been toward my female friends, and that’s a whole other can of worms since when i experimentally float the concept of asexuality or not being interested in sex i get dismissed and while she says she’s okay with my cousin being gay anytime someone makes a joke about the possibility of my brother or I being on the LGBT spectrum the whole family makes really homophobic comments. and i’m torn because if she ever found out i was scared to come out to her she’d be really pissed and hurt about “how dare i think she would react badly” but i’m pretty sure she would react badly, either in anger or in dismissive “you’re being ridiculous, you just don’t know what you’re missing”. i get that one a lot. I've talked about how i have no interest in ever being pregnant and she just keeps telling me i’m wrong to not want that experience regardless of the fact that i have really bad type 3 EDS that i get from her (though her case isn’t as bad) which is a connective tissue disorder that goes hand and hand with POTS and i already have chronic dislocations, severe scoliosis, am in constant pain, and a heart arrhythmia. Plus, we know that my symptoms already get worse when my hormones get out of wack during my period, and pregnancy is known to make eds so much worse, permanently (since its a degenerative condition). And she’s always dealing with consequences of being pregnant that are worse because of the eds, like how the scar-tissue from her c-section is much worse than it should be and keeps causing adhesions that cause her a lot of pain, and pelvic floor keeps trying to collapse, and i almost died during labor because the stress fucked with my heart so bad. and i know of women with eds whose joints were permanently fucked or who know have to walk with a cane because of how much damage their pelvises went through in childbirth, so yeah i’d rather not risk it when i’ve always wanted to adopt anyway but anytime i express any of this she gets upset because either “i’m so sorry your mother is an idiot! It’s not like she speaks from experience” <- exact quote, or “you need to stop letting this illness dictate your life, i didn’t raise a victim but that's the problem with your generation, you always think you’re a victim” which argh. and i might be okay with that last argument if she didn’t constantly tell me that i need to be more proactive about taking care of my body because of my condition (which is exactly what i’m trying to do with the not wanting to be pregnant thing, but apparently this just applies to how i need to eat better and exercise more ]even though most exercises hurt and use up too many spoons for me to work out and do everything else i need to] because i can’t afford to gain anymore weight [again, this is why i have so much fucking guilt every time i eat], or to how i apparently need to tell everyone in my life that i could faint at anytime [but stop making everything about your condition, Nicole]).

Anyway, long story short, i feel like nothing i ever do is good enough and i always have to be the bigger person and let it go when i’m upset. and i do love her, and i know she loves me but it just feels conditional even if i’m pretty sure its not. and i never know if i’m being too hard on, since i know she has trauma and is trying to help, but i have trauma too even if a different kind, and i have diagnosed but unmedicated anxiety and depression and i need validation from others and i just want to be told one time that i’m enough or that she’s sorry for all of the pressure she constantly puts on me, and i feel guilty for being so selfish when she needs me but, also, she’s my mom? i’m sick of having to parent everyone around me and then getting told its none of my business and i need to be more respectful. I just can’t win and i feel like i’m going to explode and i feel so guilty and so angry at myself and at her and then more guilt and anger for feeling guilt and anger to the point that i don’t know how to feel anything anymore. today’s just a really bad day and i feel like i keep getting more and more broken and conflicted about everything from politics to sexuality to religion i don’t know what to feel or what i think anymore...

[ohmytheon]

Spellbound (1/9)

summary: Detective Uraraka is just trying to do her job and navigate her feelings for one very prickly werewolf, but in a world where myths are real, anything can happen. When she's targeted by the serial killer that she and her elven partner, Midoriya, are trying to stop, it's going to take a bit of magic to save the day.

notes: So this is my entry for Kacchako Bittersweet Week! I'm...honestly not sure where this is going. I've only finished three of the prompts so far and am literally winging it. Whatever the next prompt says takes the story to the next place. There is no plan for this and I'm probably in over my head trying to write a murder-mystery type story inside of a Modern Fantasy setting, but well, such is life. I borrowed the world I created for my sorta Izuocha fic, "The Mythical Kind". Yes, a bit cheap, but I really loved that world and felt like I could explore more of it. More characters, relationships, and tags will be added as I finish the prompts. Like I said, I have no fucking clue where this is gonna end up. Such is life.

DAY 0: AU

No amount of tea could keep her awake, which was near impossible considering all the herbs she had put in that last batch. That stuff should have been able to keep her bouncing off the walls for days, not just a measly forty-eight hours. Was she getting weaker? No, that was her tried and true recipe. She was simply that exhausted after working for almost three days straight. This case really was getting the best of her. Maybe she should’ve taken a break like Deku had suggested.

Uraraka was staring hopelessly at her computer, woeful over the old case files that she had yet to comb through, when a paper bird began to flutter around her desk. At first, she ignored it, used to the old things. Eventually, it would settle down and perch on her desk until she was ready to unfold it and read the note. However, this one had other things in mind. It quickly turned into an origami nightmare and began to actually peck at her hands.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, oh impatient one!” Uraraka snatched the bird out of the air between her two hands, which proved to be a mistake when it gave her a papercut on her palm, causing her to wince. It soon calmed down and when she finally opened her hands, the bird slowly unfolded itself into a creased, harmless note.

You’re going to be useless if you keep going like this. Take a damn break!

Uraraka’s eyes almost rolled out of her head. Of course the violent note was from Bakugou. Did he have to charm them to be so vicious if ignored? He probably wanted to get his point across. Looking at the red spots on her hand and the cut on her palm, it had certainly done the trick. She set the note down and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes with a fist. When she stared back at her computer, its dull glow only stared right back at her. The files would still be here when she got back. Besides, she couldn’t do much without her partner here anyways.

Dragging herself out of her chair, Uraraka groaned and pressed her hands to the small of her back as she stretched. How long had she been in that chair? And how had Bakugou known that she was running herself ragged? He could have called her. It wouldn’t have had the same effect as coming to the station and sending her a very aggressive paper bird to attack her into taking a break.

After sweeping her long coat off the back of her chair, she threw it over her shoulders and slipped her arms into the sleeves. She snagged her hat off the side of her desk and plopped it on her head as she walked over to her Captain’s office and knocked on the door. “I’m heading out for the night.”

“Got anymore of that tea?” Aizawa looked about as exhausted as she felt as he set his glasses down and pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe he hadn’t been working as long as her, but he dealt with the higher-ups and the public, which was even worse. Neither had been kind to them recently with this case in the headlines.

Uraraka smiled apologetically. “All out, I’m afraid. I don’t think it was doing much good anyway at this point.”

Aizawa sighed. “I hate when things get political. It’s so exhausting.” He waved a hand at her. “Get some rest. I would rather you be well-rested than hopped up on something.”

“It’s an herbal recipe,” Uraraka reminded him. Before he could make another smart remark, his phone rang and he answered it without hesitation. He was a stronger man than her. Every time the phone at her desk rang, she shrank away from it for a few seconds. If she heard one more tip about how it was aliens, she was going to lose it.

Witches, werewolves, trolls, dragons, orcs, vampires, elves, and more? That was regular life.

Aliens though? Absolutely absurd.

That wasn’t even counting the many calls of people proclaiming it was werewolves. She’d hung up on the last person that had started on a rant.

The ride to the left and down the elevator was quick, but Uraraka still spent half of it slumped against the wall with the side of her head pressed against the cool metal. If it went on any longer, she could probably fall asleep here and wake up about ten hours later wondering where she was. She did have something of a bad habit of falling asleep in places around her apartment that weren’t her bed. Tired as she was, she didn’t even bother lifting her head when the doors opened, despite knowing full well who would be on the other side waiting for her.

“Took you long enough,” Bakugou snarled, arms folded across his chest.

“Aw, you really do care,” Uraraka teased, although she was too sleepy to push it even further.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as he reached into the elevator to grab her by the arm and pull her out. “Deku sent me a text asking if I could check on you. He must be out of it too because I think he meant to send it to Iida.”

Uraraka paused to blink at him before stepping outside. “And you came anyways?”

“Yeah, apparently you weren’t answering your phone,” Bakugou pointed out. That was surprising since she’d had her phone on her the whole… She fished it out of her pocket and looked down at it. Dead. Well, that answered the question of why Bakugou had sent her a murderous pigeon note. “You need to keep it charged. Shit is real dangerous right now and you’re running around with a dead phone.”

“And a wand,” Uraraka added, flicking her sleeve so that her wand slid into her hand. He scoffed, but didn’t argue the point. He knew that she could take care of herself, but he could also see the exhaustion written all over her. The thing about magic was that the stronger it was the more energy it took out of a person. Uraraka considered herself to be stronger than the average witch, at least by a hair, but fighting in this condition could knock her out cold. “You don’t need to worry about me so much. It’s not a witch hunt.”

Bakugou didn’t appreciate the pun at all, judging from the unimpressed look on his face. “I’m serious, Uraraka. You need to be more vigilant. Whatever is going on, we’re in the shit right now.”

He was right, of course, and Uraraka didn’t have to say anything for him to know that. She sighed and nodded her head before choosing her exit and stepping through the sliding glass door. There wasn’t just one entry port to the police department. There were a number of entrances across the city that a person could choose from, as long as they had a passcode. She and Deku had given Bakugou theirs just in case ages ago.

When she passed through the glass door and came out the other, Uraraka was first hit with the smell of smoke. It was a familiar scent in this area, reminding her of childhood. Growing up, her home had been permeated with the smell of whatever was being cooked in the cauldron, but the smoke from below was always there as well. This was a different kind of smoke, but she would take what she could get.

Glancing over, she caught Bakugou wrinkling his nose in distaste. It wasn’t near the full moon, but his sense of smell was heightened regardless of the day of the month. He didn’t like her neighborhood. Granted, it was fairly sketchy. On a scale of one to ten – where ten was a bunker warded to the teeth with protective spells and one was a flimsy wood shack – her neighborhood was about a four. He, Deku, and Iida had been harping on her to move, but it was easier said than done. Maybe when she got her bonus…

“You didn’t have to walk me home,” Uraraka said as they walked down a dimly lit sidewalk.

“And risk you falling asleep in an alley?” Bakugou shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Now it’s my turn to be the serious one.” Uraraka stepped ahead of him and turned on her heels so that she was facing him, stopping him cold in his tracks. “It’s not safe for you out here.”

He rolled his eyes. To get his attention, she reached out and snagged the strings of his hood, pulling it tighter around his head. He instinctively lifted his hands to make sure that the hood was covering him properly. It wouldn’t do good for his ears to show. His long green coat was able to hide his fluffy tail well enough, but the ears would be a dead giveaway. She could still remember her surprise when she’d met Bakugou for the first time. Werewolves in her part had been hunted down, but in the city, they roamed freely, if not without prejudice against them.

“I can take care of myself,” Bakugou quipped, baring his teeth in a vicious smirk. His canines gleamed dangerously under the flame of the streetlamp. Not as sharp as a vampire’s without it being the full moon, they were still capable of puncturing a man’s jugular should he be so inclined. He could kill her quite easily if he was in one of his frenzies. Even without the influence of the full moon, he had superhuman strength and many people said the bloodlust was still strong in them too.

Uraraka knew that he would never hurt her though. They might’ve gotten into some pretty heated arguments, but she had never once been afraid that he would attack her simply to hurt her.

“Even so, like you said, we’re in the shit, but especially werewolves,” Uraraka said gently, smoothing his hood down. She could feel his ears twitch underneath and pulled her hand away before he could tell her off. “I’d rather not get another call from Kirishima asking if I can bail you out. Everyone at the station thinks I’m dating a ruffian.”

Bakugou’s face flushed pink. “We’re not–”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, folding her hands behind her back and taking a few steps back. He spent so much time teasing her that it was nice to get one over him every once in a while. “I know. You’d never be interested in a cop, much less a low level witch.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but chose to say nothing as he started to follow her again. She knew that she could be stronger. Deku constantly reassured her that she was one of the strongest witches he knew, but then she’d remind him that he’d only met three witches total. “I’m still allowed to worry about you, aren’t I? Especially since you won’t let me give you that enchanted watch.”

“You know I don’t fuck with magic,” Bakugou told her.

“You fuck with me,” Uraraka shot back mockingly. He stared at her for a beat before his lips pulled up into a smirk and his red eyes glittered. This time, her face burned red and she spun back around so that he couldn’t see her face. She hadn’t meant it like that, especially after that last comment. “What I mean is: it’s me – it’s my magic – and the watch only has a protective spell on it. Okay, that’s a lie. It’s also enchanted to always have the perfect time. What’s the point of it not being functional too?”

Bakugou opened his mouth to argue with her when he suddenly stopped, his brow furrowed and his smirk turning into a frown. “Do you smell that?” Uraraka looked around and shook her head. Maybe it was a little smellier because the garbage man was late picking up the trash, but that was all she could think of. “It smells like something’s burning.”

“Something is always burning around here.” True, the scent of smoke was heavy in the air, but she didn’t think much of it. Smoke was a part of the aesthetic at this point. That was the price of living by a factory that mass-produced magical potions. They weren’t anywhere near as potent or good as home-brewed ones, but those were much harder to come by. She usually stuck to making her own since it was cheaper in the long run.

“No, it’s…” Bakugou broke into a run, leaving Uraraka in the dust.

She took off after him and shouted, “Wait!” but he was much quicker than her. Even if he didn’t have a werewolf’s unnatural speed, he would’ve beat her. She had always been a slow runner. He passed two blocks before she had even made it down one and then disappeared around the corner. “Bakugou, stop!” Her coat was flapping behind her like a cloak and slapping the back of her legs. When she rounded the corner, she ran smack into Bakugou’s back. He was so solid though that she didn’t knock him over. “What are you–?”

The rest of her question was snatched right out of her mouth as she caught sight of the scene Bakugou was staring at. A large building was on fire. Her apartment building was on fire. There were dozens of fire trucks, cop cars, and ambulances surrounding it in an attempt to put it out and help any of the victims, but it was no use. One second it was a regular fire and the next the fire burned a bright blue and grew exponentially like it was a hungry, living monster. As the flames ate every inch of the building, black smoke billowed into the sky.

When she’d said that something was always burning, she hadn’t meant her home.

“Did you leave a cauldron simmering before you left?” Bakugou asked.

“What? No!” Uraraka was almost insulted that he’d even insinuated such a thing, but he didn’t seem to be aware of what he was saying. “That’s not from some slow simmering potion gone wrong or someone leaving their crockpot or coffee maker plugged in.” She pointed an accusing finger at the burning building. “That...is magic.”

Any decent witch could’ve spotted the most subtle magic a mile away. Now that she was watching it three blocks down, she could feel it pulsing in the air, breathing life and death into her at the same time.  If she had ever been tired before, she was alert and awake now, although that might have been because she’d fallen into a state beyond exhaustion. Her eyes were locked onto the red and yellow flames, taking in how alive they looked. Fire was a beast in its own and the creatures capable of it fiercer than most. Not all of them were as mild as Todoroki.

Bakugou turned to her. “Uraraka…”

Hearing her name in that wary tone made everything come crashing down on her all at once. Her apartment was gone. It was destroyed, turned to nothing but ash and soot. “I… Everything I owned was in there…” Luckily she hid her money in a safe elsewhere, but it wasn’t nearly enough along with what she had in the bank to replace all that the fire had taken from her. She had insurance, of course, but only the bare minimum that she could afford. “What am I going to do?” She wasn’t thinking properly. The alertness she felt only seconds ago began to evaporate, replaced by a bone-tired exhaustion that made her want to cry. “Where am I going to sleep?”

“Uraraka,” Bakugou repeated. She snapped out of it and glanced at him. There was a fire in his eyes that matched the intensity of the burning building. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got bigger problems that that.” She blinked thickly, her thoughts muddled at best. “If this was done by magic, I don’t think it was an accident.” He pointed at the buildings next to hers. “Look; they aren’t catching. It’s just your building. No one on the force has the ability to create a barrier like that but you. It was targeted.”

That took Uraraka back. “Targeted?”

“You’re in danger,” Bakugou growled, his hackles practically raised. “That case you’re working on? It must be a lot worse than you thought.”

Uraraka’s eyes swept from Bakugou to her apartment. Judging by the state of the first responders and the building, it had caught on fire suddenly and spread fast. As much as it pained her, she knew that it was impossible to expect that everyone had survived. How many people had died? What for? What was worth ending so many lives just to get to her? Had they thought she was home? Or had they known she wasn’t and did it as a threat to stop her? And if they had attacked her place, who wasn’t to say that they wouldn’t go after Deku, Aizawa, or anyone else on the case?

“We have to call Deku,” Uraraka decided, eyes snapping back to him.

Bakugou’s nostrils flared. “No shit.” He tugged her witch’s hat off her head and threw his arm around her, pulling her close to him and guiding him back around the corner. In her case, the signature hat she wore would give her identity away. Without it, she looked like the average civilian. She another woman on the street. Huddled so close to him, his familiar scent washed over her and the heat of his body burned through his coat. “But first we gotta get you out of here. There’s a chance whoever did this is waiting for you to show up on the scene. Best not give them the chance.”

“Where are we going?” Uraraka asked worriedly. Back to the police station? It was difficult for people to get in there.

Bakugou didn’t answer her though as he pulled out his phone and clicked on Deku’s contact. Uraraka glanced back one last time, taking in the sight of the smoke reaching into the heavens. What the hell was going on? Magic was supposed to be used for good, not this, not the crimes that she’d been investigating since transferring here into the city. It was unnatural. It was wrong. Even the dark arts wasn’t always bad, but this? Oh, this felt like a sickness and it was growing as surely as the flames.

[quasisnipr1048]

College Advice, From One Commuter Student to Another

So, I’m hoping to graduate this semester.  I have four more classes to take, plus one senior design project, and I’ll be done.  I’ll have payed my dues, thousands upon thousands of dollars, for a piece of paper and a chance that I might land a job...not necessarily a good one, but a job no less.  Anyway, I thought it might be best to jot down some of the things I have learned over my college career, impart some lessons in hopes that some of you won’t have to figure this out yourselves.  Because, as you all know, college is a weird time where everyone is trying to figure out what is going on and at the same time help is a scarcity.  And since I’m a bit different from most likely the vast majority of students, being a commuter and still living at home, I’m hoping my advice can help the few in a similar situation to mine. 

Don’t worry, I’ll keep it short...lets say about 10.

Find something to make the drive tolerable.  Face it:  Driving sucks.  By the time you’re in college, it’s lost a lot of the flare it once had when you were in high school.  And believe me, there will be days when that drive might seem a little too inconvenient and you’ll be tempted to skip class.  Make use of your drive time, be it 15 minutes or (like me) an hour.  Talk to loved ones, listen to new music.  Hell, listen to lecture recordings if that takes your mind off of the thought of driving.  It’s a great way to study and I honestly regret not doing this as it would have helped a lot.  Whatever you choose, be safe.  Driving sucks, but don’t distract yourself from it so much that you end up in a wreck.

Take food from home.  After looking at my money management, I can guarantee, most of your spending money will be for gas.  If you live at home like I do, make sure you or the household cook makes enough for you to take for lunch.  You’ll save a lot of money that way, and home-cooked meals are much better to have than fast food.  If you live on your own, get into the habit of meal-prepping.  Same effect:  better meals and money saved.

Talk with your parents about money.  This goes for both at-home and on-your-own students.  It is kind of awkward since you may be in the mentality that you should be completely independent from them during college, but that’s not really how that works (unless your parents are a**holes).  If you need money, ask.  It’s as simple as that.  Can’t make rent? Tell your parents about the situation.  Don’t have enough money leftover for food? See if they can spare a few bucks.  You’re in college, not the “real world” just yet.  You’re still going to have to depend on your parents for some things.  And if you’re living at home, maybe try and figure out about how much you need for the week.  Talk with your parents about a weekly allowance so that you’re not asking them for money every day.

Optimize your route.  This is something you should have down within the first couple of weeks.  Find the best route that gets you to school the quickest safely and consistently.  Google Maps is your friend in this case, and though I have never tried it, I hear Waze is an excellent navigation app.  And if you live in a high-traffic area, use it to monitor your commute and check for traffic jams. 

Don’t stay at school later than you have to.  It’s understandable that you will have to stay late for things like clubs, societies, and (god forbid) classes, but don’t make it a habit of staying so late that you are exhausted on your drive home.  Driving at night and while drowsy is a recipe for disaster.  If you absolutely have to stay later than 8pm, read this for some tips on nighttime driving.  Stay alert and stay alive, but change around some scheduling if you are able to.  I have found that most clubs and societies are lenient to commuter students, and night-class professors don’t like staying late either (usually).

Do as much work as you can at school.  Two reasons:  One, your access to tutoring programs and your professors will be limited once you go home, and Two, trust me when I say you’re not gonna really want to do homework or study once you’re home.  Unless you can really discipline yourself, it’s better to do your work and studying at school.  It’s much easier and it will keep you focused.  This is where being a bit social comes into play as well because you can study with your friends too.  And while we’re on that topic...

Make time for friends.  It might seem difficult to do so because you have to drive to do anything, but if you manage your time well, you should be able to have some spare time for friends.  Talk with them.  Maybe they can meet you halfway (literally) so you don’t have to drive so far.  Just because you commute doesn’t mean you lose social time.

Keep your vehicle up-to-date.  And I mean every aspect of your car.  Registration, insurance, oil and filter changes, school parking permit, everything.  Parking tickets suck, not having a working vehicle sucks, and getting caught off-guard with outdated vehicle information is a hassle at best.  And especially considering universities force commuters to pay through the nose for a stupid parking permit, you don’t want to have to add another $100 on top of that price for a bad permit. 

Be a safe driver and know the rules.  This one seems fairly obvious, but you’d be surprised how often you are punished for your slip-ups.  For example, I didn’t know you could get ticketed for parking backwards.  It’s such an incredibly mundane thing to get ticketed for since so many people do it anyway, but it is a rule nevertheless that I have seen.  Review your university’s parking rules, and follow all laws when you are on the road.  You don’t want to be late to class because of a speeding ticket.

Make a routine for packing everything you will need for class.  You won’t have the same convenience that on-campus students will have.  The last thing you are gonna want to do once you get to school is realize you are going to have to drive back home because you left your homework on your desk.  The longer the drive, the worse that feeling will be.  Save yourself the trouble and make yourself a routine for packing all the materials you will need for class.  This is best done before you go to bed so that you don’t have to rush in the morning if you miss your alarm.  Make a checklist if it helps.  Put some stuff in your car.  Do whatever you need to so you don’t have to drive more than you already have to.

Hope this helps any commuter students out there.  Drive safe, and good luck.  Trust me when I say, everything is going to be okay.

[found--family]

14.12 coda - where there’s a will

@spnonewordbingo 

square:  BURN 

rating:  teen  |  3.5k  |  also on ao3 (theheartchoice) 

tags:  light angst, internally negative!dean, hurt/comfort, hugging, canon-compliant Dean/Cas 

summary:  TWF 2.0 destroy the Ma'lak box and Dean takes comfort while he still can. 

Who knew the bunker even had a furnace? Well, Sam did, apparently. 

When the refugees had arrived from the other universe, he’d explored certain corridors and sections of the bunker he hadn’t been near since first cataloguing the entire place for a revised map - years ago, now.

Turns out, with that many people, even in a space as big as the bunker, things were heating up to near uncomfortable levels. So. Solution? Turn down whatever magic-powered thermostat kept the place from freezing over come winter, just a little.

Dean was vaguely aware of it, but it wasn't pertinent information, most days - or any day, really. So it had settled somewhere in the recesses of his mind, along with lesser pasta sauce recipes and the best technique for french-braiding short hair (because it’s not like Sam would actually ever let him put his know-how into practice).

But after the ‘miracle’ of Donatello, when they returned home - together, determined to find a better way - that’s when the existent of the furnace shuffled to the forefront of Dean's mind.

Since he'd made Sam and Cas a promise not to go it alone, anymore (at least for now), he allowed them to help him break down the Ma’lak box. It was an interesting exercise, as Cas briefly demonstrated how neither his Angelic strength nor his Angelic powers could render the box back to scrap metal.

Billie had been bang-on with those sigils. Dean was just somewhat surprised that his own craftsmanship had held up along with the intricate magic.

The box was untested, after all. Dean’d be lying if he said he didn’t have doubts (aside from all the inherent fears of this plan) of locking himself up to get tossed down to the briny deep, to take a not-so-deep sleep with only a pissed-off Archangel as company for all eternity without knowing for certain whether or not this little metalwork project would work.

But proof of such seemed beyond his reach. It’s not like it was in the old days, where there was an Angel lurking around every corner; Archangels even less so. And their near-extinction aside, Dean would put good money on any one of them trying to kill him before wanting to do him a favour.

Not that he can actually die, though.

Maybe if they’d known his plan they might have helped. But there still remains no Angel he ever trusted more than Cas - nor ever could. 

Their own misguided good intentions might well have overcome any desire for vengeance (because that’s what Angels have become: bottled up chaotic emotions often funnelled toward Dean - if not Cas - like a freakin’ cosmic twister of the lord). Any Angel who was willing to 'help' him might've turned on him, as Angels often do, trying to free Michael in order to save Heaven, or so they would think.

Michael doesn't want to save anyone, or anything. He has zero interest in playing Savior; he wants nothing more than to watch the world burn - and to force Dean into a front-row seat of the show.

To avoid taking that risk, Dean would’ve gone through with his plan alone - Ma’lak box untested - and just hoped that his own two hands and Donna’s outdated power tools, along with the belief that Billie wasn’t one for cutting corners, was enough to get the job done.

It doesn’t matter much now, of course, since his plan has been put on hold - for the time being. But he told both Sam and Cas, plain as day: if the time comes and it’s the only play left on the board, then he’ll take it. No holds barred.

He’s scared as hell about it but he’ll do what needs to be done. Just like he always has.

Still. Dean knows holding onto the Ma’lak box is a morale-killer. He doesn't want to drag his family down to the depths with him before his time is up. And now that he knows that it works the next one won’t be constructed from rusty sheet metal. He’ll go all-out with top quality materials, just in case.

Better safe than sorry.

But this one needs to go. They all need this. Breaking down this box is akin to breaking down the lies and deception Dean hadn’t meant to force upon them.

They wanted to know, and now they do. Mom’s interference aside, Dean really doesn’t know if he could’ve kept it a secret, reasons be damned. He felt the need to, but Sammy’s always been the smart one. He knows Dean better than anyone (in certain ways), so if he hadn’t have caved then odds are Sam would’ve figured it out on his own.

Sam would’ve told Cas, again - because he feels they both deserve to know, despite Dean’s own wishes - and he would’ve been right to do so. Just because Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell Cas doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the right to know, too. He has every right. He’s family.

As for right now, what matters is them working together to find a Plan C. And if when they don’t find one, well..

..they’ll meet that bridge over troubled water when they come to it. When they come back to Plan B - B for Bridge, for Box, for being Batshit crazy to follow Billie’s plan to the Bottom of the ocean.

But needs must.

Maybe it won’t be so bad - saying a proper goodbye. It’ll hurt, no question. But it’ll probably hurt a lot more not to. A little closure can’t be a bad thing - it might even help him find some semblance of peace before he takes that final plunge.

Dean scratches out the sigils on the main panels as the three of them begin dismantling the box. Four, if you count Jack - though he’s still processing the information, and his anger - which surprised the hell outta Dean, gotta say - is hindering any chance of him being safe in handling power tools.

He’s pretty much standing there with a scowl and a distant look in his eye, throwing out questions and counterpoints - most of which Sam and Cas field, thankfully, since they already know the answers. Dean focuses on breaking down the welding and larger metal components having made a temporary workspace of the boiler room, while they try to ease Jack’s mind.

Dean refuses Cas’ attempts to use his powers to carve up the de-powered metal, insisting they do it the old-fashioned way, just in case. Jack watches over Sam’s shoulder as he reads through the books Dean pilfered from the library, cobbling together an Enochian charm with Cas’ help to bolster the flames of the furnace enough to destroy any ounce of magic left in the metal of the disassembled Ma’lak box.

Cas chants the words, Dean supporting this particular Angelic assistance, and the flames shift: bright gold at the base, reminding him of Holy Fire - if not for the almost blood-red tips licking at the irons insides of the furnace.

They each take turns feeding the metal pieces into the powered-up flames, until Dean is holding the last piece: the main sigil, the 'lock' that would have secured Michael’s watery coffin.

It’s not the first time he’s destroyed a safeguard against Evil, but this time he can find comfort in knowing it’s not a one-time deal, not a ‘do and be doomed’, kind of thing. Because he can make another magical box. He can etch another magical lock.

The markings of the ancient language spark in the flames when Dean lays in the final piece. As if the fire itself is sentient, it glows brighter the moment he does - bright enough to blind, causing them all to flinch and shield their eyes, even Cas - before the golden light is swallowed up in a bloody shadow, enveloping the confines of the chamber.

The shadow darkens to pitch black, gold sparking through it like fireworks on a clouded night - before snuffing out. The dark smoke clearing to reveal an empty chamber: flames out; all metal reduced to an iridescent ash.

And.. that’s it.

It’s done.

One less distraction for the coming days, weeks.. months? Who knows how long, really. There’s only so much Dean can do to keep Michael at bay, and considering how they’ve already explored every other option― if he’s being honest, which, End Times being nigh and all he probably should, he doesn’t see another way out of it.

He can see the bridge up ahead, knows they’ll come to it probably sooner rather than later, and he’s willing to throw himself over the edge to keep the world turning, to keep the ground from crumbling underneath his family and countless innocent lives.

It’s not like it’s anything new, this course of action - it’s an old favourite; the default for when the world is about to go to hell - often literally. Self-sacrifice for the Greater Good has always seemed worth it - but only when Dean is the one giving whatever he can to right the wrong that’s threatening to fuck up the world.

But, that’s okay. It sucks, but someone’s gotta do it and it’s what Dean excels at. Despite all his fuckups and failings over the years, if there’s a legacy he leaves behind it’s this: Fightin' the Good Fight.

Because even when he can’t say what needs to be said, he can at least do what needs to be done.

He can show those he cares about most just how much they mean to him.

Although.. It didn’t always work out so well. More often than not, he’d screwed things up worse than they already were - inviting some new Big Bad to replace the old one.

He tells himself this time is different. There’s no deal with a Devil, no trading of circumstance to lead things from bad to worse, not really. This one isn’t gonna come back to bite them in the ass - because this is The End. He’s taking Michael out of play by taking himself off the board.

Dean can see all the unplayed moves ahead them, and every course of action leads to the same inevitable end. He knows when he’s beat, but it’s not checkmate. The Ma’lak box is his resignation to a fate he can no longer change. And if he can’t kill the King, then he’ll lay down his sword and drag that bastard to the bottom of everything where he can’t hurt anyone ever again.

Dean tagging along for the ride seems a small price to pay, compared to that win.

But this - THIS, holding out hope for something he knows won’t come..? He can’t play that game, can’t toy with his sanity and whatever remains of his irrevocably scarred soul for that. But he’s not doing this for himself.

He’s doing it for them, for his family. Because they need this. They need to search for a way to save him, need one last scrounge for a win before the final bow-out.

So, Dean will hold out. Long as he can.

But it’s not about hope - not for him. He’s doing this for the same reason he built that damn box in the first place - the same reason he’s always made the Sacrifice Play.

On the surface it’s for Humanity, for the innocents, for Free Will, and for the world in general. But he won’t lie; he’s a selfish man, and it’s far more personal than all that.

He’s just glad this time saving one (ie. The World) means saving the other, too (ie. His Family).

There’s no trade-off.

It’s win-win.

Speaking of family..

Sam ushers Jack out of the boiler room after all is done, because he knows Dean - better than Dean usually cares to admit, let alone appreciate, but right now he’s silently grateful - because he knows there are things still left to say, things that need to be said.  

Dean’s already said his piece, scrap by scrap, to Sammy. But earlier in the hospital his conversation with Cas had been cut short, and the ride home was a mix of stilted questions, theories and more questions - about Billie and her notebooks, about the box and Michael, about Donatello’s once-again soulless self and Dean’s own state of being - most of which was met with curt replies smothered in uneasy silence.

They may have cleared the air before they hit the road, but that doesn't mean there's nothing left to say, that there are no more emotion-fuelled dialogues left to stagger through. And for the most part they had settled on a common ground of thought, perhaps due to exhaustion - both emotional and physical - preventing them from arguing further.

But, everything considered, they couldn’t just do away with the burden weighing on all of them through willalone. They were still forced to deal with the brutal reality of one homocidal Archangel locked up in the trunk of Dean’s mind.

Once they’d reached the bunker, there had been no hesitation.

Sam went straight for the trailer, setting his own plan in motion right away: to tear apart the Ma’lak box and burn it to cinder in the basement’s furnace. Cas was already helping him remove the restraints before Dean could comprehend what exactly was happening.

From their talk in the car he knew Sam wanted to destroy the box. He didn’t want it to be some safety net for Dean to fall back on. For the future, Dean had begrudgingly agreed. But for tonight, and for the difficult days ahead, Sam didn’t want its mere existence dragging down their efforts, like it was all for naught, a weight at the backs of their minds - as if Dean didn’t have enough weighing on his already.

Sam was afraid, he said so. Said he didn’t want Dean sneaking off in the middle of the night with his makeshift coffin in-tow and a map to the coast spread beside him.

Dean understood, really he did. He just didn’t think the demolition needed to happen right freakin’ now―

―But then Sam was already calling for Jack, and Cas was fetching a dolly from the workshop corner of the garage.

Fine. Might as well get it over with.

And now it’s done.

All that’s left is Dean and Cas alone in the relative quiet and thick-walled privacy of the boiler room. All it took was Dean speaking Cas’ name - once, and soft - for him to stay behind.

Not wanting to draw the awkward pre-conversation moment out any longer, as soon as Sam and Jack’s receding footsteps disappeared and he deemed them out of earshot, Dean spoke up.

“Sam said the same thing.”

Cas had waited patiently for him to speak first, but where before there was a disharmony of dread and anticipation in his features, now there was confusion. Can’t blame him.

“About.. saying ‘goodbye’, you know.” Though, maybe Cas doesn’t know. “You gotta understand, man―it’s not that I didn’t wanna see you, tell you―” The thought chokes his words off, just a bit, just enough that he has to stop and clear his throat before going on. “..I couldn’t. I couldn’t just call you up sayin’: hey, got a sec-? I’m about to throw myself into the ocean for all eternity, just thought I’d let you know―” He has to catch himself again, catch his breaking voice, more vulnerability sneaking through than he cares to let out.

By the time he readies himself again, strength wavering, Cas has stepped closer, edging in on his personal space. But it's not suffocating. It's a comfort. One Dean has been more and more thankful for over the years. He's just failed to show―to tell Cas, how much.

He knows he should probably keep his distance, like always, but.. is there really any point to that, anymore?..

“I told Sam, that he was the only one who could talk me out of it―which is exactly why I didn’t tell him," and he can already hear his voice wobble again, but he pushes through. "And ‘cos I don’t do good with Goodbyes, Cas, I―” damn tears, stupid choked-up voice, “―I couldn’t say Goodbye to you, okay―? Not again―I could not go through that, again.”

Dean can’t look at him anymore―has to blink away the hot tears blurring his vision. He only peeks back up as Cas sucks in a breath, lets it out quick. Dean's own lungs inflate his chest with a stuttered breath; Cas is right there. He’s well inside Dean’s space bubble, closer than ever and yet still so far away , eyes soft with concern, a sad smile twitching his lips.

“..I don’t think I could say Goodbye to you, either. Not forever.”

It’s almost enough.

To hear Cas say that ―it’s almost enough to fight back the rush of painful memories, to escape the knowing that it will happen again , soon enough. Not in the same way, but it will feel just as permanent.

Cas’ hand finds Dean’s shoulder, fits so perfectly there. Always has. The weight of his touch and the grounding of his words, his voice, help Dean to focus on something beyond Michael’s barricaded presence in his head.

And.. honestly?

If the time they have left together is shorter than it ought to be, if Goodbye is painful but inevitable, then whatever ache might settle in his soul once he’s under the weight of an entire ocean, far away from everyone he loves with nothing but his own mind for escape against the lonesome years, then maybe, maybe .. seeking a little comfort beforehand isn’t quite the risk Dean thought.

Because the secret is out. Cas knows what things may come to - and Cas doesn’t want to say Goodbye , either. But he will. If there is no other way, and if that’s what Dean needs, he will.

So, what’s the harm in leaning on his best friend a little, for just a little while? What’s the harm in letting Cas know this isn’t easy at all on Dean, that he could really use some help, someone to help keep him from crumbling when he needs to stand stronger than he ever has?

It's a rough feat, alone - may be damn near impossible.

If he has to take that final step off the bridge alone, then he damn sure doesn’t want to make the walk down there alone.

And Cas gets it―he gets Dean―because now Dean is leaning forward without expressly meaning to but not wanting to pull back, and Cas is opening his arms to embrace him.

Dean has to sift through muddled memories to find the last time he shared a hug with Cas.. The realisation that it’s been a while doesn’t sit well with him.

He holds on tight. Holds Cas with everything he's got left.

Seconds drift into minutes.

Dean hugs Cas as long as he needs to, and in return allows himself to be held. Because maybe, just maybe, Cas needs this as much as he does. For once, without all the angst and desperation of a last-chance confession almost, they can just let themselves be close to each other.

It’s comfort for comfort’s sake a doomed man's grasp, with no enemy bearing down on them the enemy is in him to hurry things along his time is running out.

The world isn’t ending not yet. Not tonight. They’re alive for now and safe not really and together more distance between them than ever.

It won't be forever, it never is. But right here, right now, this is enough.

It's the most he'll ever have.

Cas holds on tighter.

Michael breathes inside his mind.

Dean focuses on Cas’ breath instead: in his ear, not his head. He focuses on the heartbeat beating back into his own chest, filling every off-beat of his own with a steady, thump.. thump..

He ignores the arrhythmic pounding of fists on his mental door, screwdriver shaking in its place.

It's okay. He'll replace the screwdriver with a magical lock fashioned by Death herself. It'll be okay.

Dean buries his nose in Cas’ collar, breathes deep, steady―heady―exhales, slow as he can.. He feels a contrasting mix of weakness and revitalisation flood through him. His knees ache to bend, to let his body fold under the weight of everything. His heart, though, beats a little louder, trying to pump more blood around his body, keep him standing.

Cas holds him steady, lets him lean as his legs feel weak. His heart doesn't have to struggle alone.

He can do this. With help, he can do what needs to be done.

And if Dean pretends that his face buried in Cas’ neck in search of comfort and strength is the only reason his lips press against his collar?..

..well.

This is closer than he's ever been.

It's close enough.

It's just enough.

Cas keeps holding on.

Dean lets him.