#Monkey Wrench: Breaking promises

[smallturtlebomb]

luz isn’t gonna let that slide divine !!!

“If you think im alone then you’re out of your mind you son of a bitch…”

continuation of that little thing @shyshiny drew ! (srry that this took a little long, the brainrot got to me) ^_^

[eyelessfaces]

tousled, stubbled, tired

miguel o'hara x reader

well basically I've been obsessed with the concept art for miguel so it is heavily inspired by those (x). not my fault he looks so boyfriend

summary: miguel is on the edge of a burn out, and he's the only one not seeing it.

warnings: none too important I think, just miguel being really tired because he works a lot. swearing, one small (and cringe) innuendo.

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort?, nerdy miguel<3

word count: 2.1k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

Miguel hadn’t slept at home in days; you had been fairly accustomed to him leaving in the middle of the night for safety matters in Nueva York and coming back early in the morning, but now that the threat was multiversal and now that he was the leader of the spider society, he didn’t even bother getting to bed in the first place.

He in fact barely even left the spider society; the rare times he did were for missions, and when he came back he didn’t even take the time to catch a break; he always had something to fix, something to build, a new suit to work on, a machine to program, meetings, briefings, then more missions.

You wondered how he still had all that energy and where it came from, and you wondered how he hadn’t burnt out yet. 

Even the small naps he took from time to time – against his will, you had found him passed out on his desk one day, head resting over folded arms, mouth slightly opened, soft snores escaping – couldn't possibly make up for his lack of sleep, and even though his mutation may grant him more stamina and allow him to stay awake longer than the average human being, the dark circles under his eyes were the visual proof of his fatigue, and it was all you needed to try to drag his ass back home so he could get some rest.

You watched from a distance as Miguel was sitting on the floor, a monkey wrench in hand and a screw sitting between his lips. He looked focused, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he tried to fix his machine – you had no idea what it was for, but you figured it must be important considering the significant amount of time he had already taken trying to fix it. 

Miguel gasped in surprise at your contact, slightly jumping at the sudden feeling of your hands over his shoulders, your unexpected and unannounced presence tearing him out of his developing state of drowsiness.

“Shit you scared me” he grunted softly, grabbing the screw at his mouth before turning to look back at you.

"Sorry" you apologized, bending to leave a kiss at the top of his head, your thumbs rubbing where his suit was peeking out under the baggy clothes he had been wearing for probably way too long. His shoulders muscles were stiff and you felt them tense even more when he turned back to his machine with a small sigh.

You joined him and pushed the hammer and nails out of the way before sitting down next to him. 

"When was the last time you went to the cafeteria for something other than the coffee?" you asked accusingly as you looked down at the empty mug beside him on the floor, your hand resting at the back of his neck, playing with the hair there.

He shrugged, still looking at the open hatch of the machine in front of him. 

“A bagel won’t keep me awake” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled by the object in his mouth as he tightened a bolt, putting his tool back on the floor with a clinking before grabbing another.

“You still need to eat, you won’t get to finish fixing this machine if you die first” you scolded him as your hand left him, looking at him sternly.

He turned to you and let go of his screw before putting a hand at your arm, his tired eyes boring into yours.

“I'll eat, I promise, but I'll do that once I'm done. I’m really close to getting it, I almost have it solved.” he declared, tilting his head towards the machine as his grip around your arm lightly tightened.

You closed your eyes and nodded once before you opened your mouth to talk again, but Miguel had already turned back to work at his machine. You let out a small sigh and grabbed the screw he previously had at his mouth to fiddle with it.

"When was the last time you had a real night of sleep? Because I don't recall seeing you in our bed in what– almost a week at least?"

"Are we playing 21 questions?" he asked sarcastically as he turned to you again, clearly beginning to lose patience. 

You paused and looked away from him, a small sigh leaving your mouth before you looked back in his direction.

"We're playing 'I'm worried about my boyfriend', it's a game where said boyfriend barely takes care of himself and drowns in work and in which everyone around him witnesses his vital needs getting neglected." you said as you didn’t even try to make it sound like a joke, just blatantly showing him how upset you were.

He pinched his lips before his gaze dropped to his lap.

“Miguel” you called. “Take a break. Please. This is a request for now but if you keep on being stubborn this is gonna become an order” you said as you shifted closer to him. 

"I don't wanna fight with you. I really don't" you nodded as you put a hand to his shoulder. 

"And you would lose, because you don't have enough energy to outbid, and it's gonna hurt your ego so it's best for the both of us if you just listen to me" you explained, a smile appearing over your face when he softly chuckled and shook his head. "Okay?" you asked raising your eyebrows, awaiting his response.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay" he nodded, his half lidded, tired and bloodshot eyes looking up at you. 

"Good" you pinched your lips in a smile as you brushed away the shorter strands of his tousled hair falling over his forehead, before leaving a kiss there.

He tiredly smiled at you when you pulled away, leaning into your touch when your fingers ghosted over the light stubble on his cheeks that had grown over the past few days.

You shrugged. “I like it” 

“I don’t.”

You chuckled at his harsh response, your hand fully resting at his cheek. “Come back home with me and we’ll shave it.” you shrugged. “After a well needed shower” you continued, teasing him as you pinched your nose and faked a wince, making him nudge your side as he huffed out a laugh.

“I know it’s getting critical, I just haven’t had the time for it” he said grunting as he got up from the floor. “Lyla even said 'I don’t have olfactory sensors but I know that you stink'” he mocked as he took a higher voice and imitated the sassy attitude of his AI, making quotation marks with his hands.

You laughed at the a-bit-too-accurate imitation and got up too when he offered you his hand to help you up.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat and go back home"

—

You were already sitting on your bathroom counter, razor in hand when Miguel came out of the shower, towel loosely hanging around his hips. 

“Sure you don’t wanna keep it?” you asked teasingly, pointing at your own face to refer to his five o’clock shadow as he walked up to you.

“No. I don’t wanna look like Peter B” he grumbled as he joined you. You huffed out a laugh and caged him with your legs, bringing him closer to you.

He let his forehead rest against your shoulder, planting his hands at either side of the counter while you brushed his wet and dripping hair back, almost shuddering as you felt the gentle scruff of his stubble against your skin when his face shifted to your neck.

“Alright” 

He tilted his head back up at you, the worn out expression over his face paining you. 

You took a hold of his face and shaved him in silence, and you didn’t blame him for the lack of conversation and clever things to say. He probably had been dealing with a lot of stuff this week, trying his best so things wouldn’t turn out to be catastrophic so he probably wanted it all to be quiet now.  

Following along his sharp and defined jawline, you shaved to the shape of his face, razor gently and thoroughly following each line, careful not to go too fast and slip and cut him. 

“I'm so tired. Working twenty-four seven didn’t give me time to realize it but now it's crushing me” he mumbled, his voice barely louder than a whisper so his movements wouldn't be too harsh and wouldn't make you slip.

“I know. It all comes crashing down one moment or another” you said with an empathetic smile, rubbing your thumb over his left cheek once you were done with that area. He responded with a small hum.

It didn't take too long for you to be over with your task, and you put the razor down by the sink before grabbing the aftershave bottle, squeezing the lotion onto your hands and gently lathering it over his face, appreciating the smell you never realized you were that used to.

"Done. All clean shaven" you declared as he put his hands at either side of your neck, smiling tiredly before slotting his lips against yours.

"Thank you" he softly smiled.

"Come on, let's get you dressed and let's get you to bed" you called as you jumped down from the counter, exiting the bathroom as he followed you to the bedroom.

—

“You know, at this point you could build us quarters at the spider society” you chuckled, rummaging into the closet looking for the same kind of comfortable clothes he had been wearing lately.

“Don’t tempt me, I could make that happen” he declared as he shifted from his sitting position to lay down onto the bed with a grunt. “That’s actually not a bad idea”

You hummed in reflexion. “I could look after you, make sure you’re not doing too much” you shrugged as you turned to him to throw him a pair of clean boxers.

“Forget about what I said. ‘Don’t need you to try to babysit me all the time, I already have Lyla for that” he chuckled as he let the towel down to put on the clothes you were progressively throwing at him.

“Where was she to babysit you these past few days?” you asked as you joined him and crawled onto the bed.

“Had to turn her off. You, I can’t” he teased with a small smirk plastered over his face before putting his shirt on, grunting as you pushed him back down onto the bed.

“Asshole” you playfully hit his chest, leaning down next to him. "Right, you could only turn me on." You stared at the ceiling as you waited for any type of response, a chuckle, a small laugh, a nudge, but nothing came, nothing happened. 

Your look darted to his direction, and you giggled as you watched him trying to hold back a laugh.

"That's a bad joke, for my defense I'm exhausted so it doesn't count" he shook his head, covering his eyes with his hand, desperately grunting.

"Yeah, right" you huffed out a laugh as you let your head rest over his chest. 

The tension quickly diffused, the atmosphere getting calmer and the room getting quieter as you absentmindedly let the tip of your fingers trace patterns over his chest slowly rising and falling.

"Thank you" he softly muttered, breaking the silence, tearing you out of your thoughts.

"What?" you asked, confused, your fingers stopping in their trail. 

"Thank you for dragging me out of there, out of this hole"

You paused and shifted so you could look back at him, propping your elbow next to his face, holding your chin in the palm of your hand.

"Miguel, you know I'll always have your back, right?" you rhetorically asked, your fingertips now tracing his face, all soft from the aftershave.

He nodded as his eyes darted to your face.

"Yeah. I know" he pinched his lips in a soft smile as he looked at you, fighting so his eyes could remain open. 

You mirrored his smile, leaning over so you could leave a kiss at his lips, running your fingers over the side of his face one last time.

“You can rest now. I got you”

He softly hummed before his eyes closed under the weight of the responsibilities weighing on him, a small sigh of relief leaving him as your fingers raked through his hair. 

It didn't take long for you to register he was asleep, his breath slowing down, the steady heaving of his chest and a peaceful expression over his face.

You couldn't bring yourself to move, couldn't bring yourself to leave him.

—

please give me feedback if you liked this, I appreciate every single comment and they motivate me to keep going!!

masterlist | taglist | ao3

spiderman 2099 taglist: @bubuslutty @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @cocodiem @pedropascalsidechick @spxctorsslxt @roxannarichie @vicolangelo @amb3rrz @inluvvwithme @friedwings @chaotic-neon-sign @foxglove-grove @ilovemiguelohara @pandq707 @gobblegluckgluckgod @weasleybuns @I-like-eating-leaves @doudou00125 @luxisluxurious @himesuedi @daisydark @koyukiki @tyranicalsaurusrex @violet-19999 @melaisnthere

[irregularincidents]

In light of the current WGA and SAG AFTRA Strikes still going strong at well over 100 days at this point, I thought that it would be interesting to cover another strike by creative folk in Hollywood: the 1941 Disney Animators Strike.

For context, by 1941 the other major animation studios in Hollywood by this point had unionised, following the first being the 1937 Fleischer Studios Strike which produced the first union contracts, while over at Disney the studio remained a firm holdout.

However, due to a series of incidents, including Disney not following through on the promise to share profits from the phenomenally successful Snow White (trade papers at the time reported that Disney’s studio was going to distribute an estimated 20% of Snow White’s earnings among the studio’s 800 employees, the actual bonuses those artists received were equal to or less than what they had previously received for the studio’s short films, with some Snow White animators, including Art Babbitt, did not receive any bonuses for their work), the alienating behaviour of Gunther Lessing (the lawyer responsible for Disney copyrighting Micky Mouse), and other factors (such as Disney's management style consisting of playing favourites, stealing credit and so on) understandably led to tensions rising within the company.

Things came to a head in 1941, when Art Babbitt, his highest-paid animator, resigned as president of the Disney company union to join the Animation Guild. After Disney fired Art in retaliation three days later, the strike was on.

The strike went on for five weeks, and destroyed the somewhat communal atmosphere some felt that the studio had amongst its staff at the time. Support came in the form of labour organiser Herbert Sorrell, a former boxer, who had successfully lead some other Hollywood strikes, including one with the Screen Actors Guild in the mid-1940s that brought him into conflict with their president, a man by the name of Ronald Reagan.

A notable incident involving Sorrell came when rumours of hired goons were coming to break the strike, leading to Sorrell send a gang of Lockheed aircraft mechanics with monkey wrenches to guard the tents of the striking animators which were pitched on the land across from the Disney Studio. It turned out to be merely a rumor and no damage was done, although Walt did reportedly almost get into a fight with Art

Eventually, FDR ended up having to send a federal negotiator to resolve the dispute, where they found in favour of the strikers in every issue. Disney, for his part, reportedly had been nearing a mental breakdown over the animators' "betrayal" left on a tour of Latin America to try and ease tensions.

Disney never forgave the strikers for the strike, and would maintain for years that rather than it being due to any mismanagement on his part, it was due to the animators being infiltrated by communists. Specifically, Herbert Sorrell, whom Disney would later report to the House of Un-American Activities Committee in 1947 as a communist infiltrator who was trying to turn his employees against him.

Y'know, so he learned nothing.

[shyshiny]

Estoy cenando y me topo con esto,AHHHHHHH- <333333333333

@shyshiny i drew the Diva✨ hope you like it!

i had fun drawing him :3

[zepskies]

Writing Update! ✍️

Hey, hey! Hope you're having a lovely Sunday! 😘

Just wanted to give you a quick update on what's coming soon from me:

In Bad Weather - Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

AKA: The promised 3rd one-shot in the Midnight Espresso-verse.

Summary: You and Dean tackle the biggest possible monkey wrench in your relationship yet: could Chuck have been manipulating you two all along?

An angsty (requested) Soldier Boy x Reader imagine set in the Break Me Down -verse.

I want to let the prompt surprise you (lol), but I will release at least one of these this coming week. ❤️

[goshdangronpa]

The case is closed. The victim is avenged. The killer is executed. Further plots twists have been revealed. We’ve reached the end of Chapter 1 in “I DISAGREE: An Ibuki Mioda SDR2 Protag Swap AU,” but it’s not over just yet. Danganronpa games always close out each chapter with a little something extra, and this project will be no different. I think that after all that death and destruction, something light and sweet is needed. (This is a long one.)

We’ll Make It Another Night: Ending Chapter 1 with a Sleepover

Focusing on the positives can be tough, even for someone as positive as Ibuki Mioda. It’s not like that positivity’s done her much good on this island. She tried her best to bring some good vibes into a bad situation, but it stopped being so effective as things got worse. She did what she could to make a difference with the disease patients, but lives were still lost. Even when she saved the day by making so many key contributions to the trial, the reward for her efforts was a decidedly hopeless death for poor Kazuichi.

What hurts most might be what happened with Mikan. Her free time events with Hajime in SDR2 show that she strives to break down people’s defenses and bring out the beautiful soul within. She tried doing that for arguably the person hiding behind the most defense mechanisms in the group. She made some real breakthroughs. More than that, she made the kind of friend she was hoping for when she accepted the invite to Hope’s Peak. All that now seems to be for nothing.

She starts to spiral … but, alone on a bench in Jabberwock Park, she finds someone else feeling even lousier than her.

When Byakuya Togami proclaimed himself leader of the class, he promised to protect everyone. He tried to make good on it by joining the medical staff in quarantine and watching over the island’s most vulnerable people. It ended so calamitously that his classmates accused him of committing murder for his own gain at the cost of everyone else’s lives. His stock as leader could not be any lower.

“Only a fool would still accept me as leader,” he laments, a far cry from his haughtiness.

Ibuki cheers, “Then I’m a fool for you!” She’s not just saying it to be nice.

Mikan’s not the only one she bonded with in quarantine. (Please excuse my one-ship mind.) Ibuki and Byakuya would ramble about life on the road, pester the pretentious Teruteru with requests for greasy fast food, and try to discern each other’s inner selves in long conversations. The investigation and trial saw them work as a team to root out inconsistencies, piece details together, fight false accusations, and catch the killer. Byakuya’s not used to trusting people, but he’s also never met anyone as genuine as this weird girl with no filter and baffling taste in everything. Her cheeky response is that her taste in friends includes him.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he says, uncharacteristically self-effacing.

“Forget all that!” Ibuki shouts. “Let’s have another room party!”

Byakuya reminds her that she doesn’t have to stay in her hotel room anymore. She knows: with quarantine over, she wants to host the hangout at her cottage, make it a pajama party, and invite everyone! After all, they were planning a shindig before Monokuma threw a monkey wrench. Doing it now will give them, as well as the other volunteers and the surviving patients, a chance to finally hang out with the people who stayed at the cottages.

They send invites to every cottage. Ibuki even slides one under Mikan’s door, though she’s almost certainly staying somewhere less obvious. They go back to Ibuki’s cottage, then wait.

There’s a strong possibility that no one will come. It’s been a long and difficult day for everyone. Maybe no one’s in the mood to party.

Then, when the clock strikes 8, Sonia Nevermind comes a-knocking. The Ultimate Princess has never been to such an intimate party before, especially not as just “one of the girls.” She also likes the idea of the shindig as a way to reunite the two halves of the class, especially because she wants to cast off her role as leader of one group. Right behind her are Gundham Tanaka, who bonded with her over the past few days, and Teruteru Hanamura, who won her favor after apparently showing a more nurturing side during the crisis. That’s enough for a party, especially because the latter brought snacks!

Others come as well, and this time Ibuki’s the one getting help in seeing the bright side. Mahiru Koizumi comes with her camera, eager to finally spend time with and get candids of her quarantined peers. Despite initially dismissing the idea as silly, Hiyoko Saionji is right behind her. Akane Owari and Nekomaru Nidai believe that surviving the disease and trial is worth celebrating. Peko Pekoyama wasn’t sure about going either, but relents when Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu tells her how fun their hangouts were. She’s glad that he’s making friends ("Just a few days ago, he might've dismissed such a gathering as a waste of time ..."). Meanwhile, he’s grateful for Peko’s survival and enthusiastic to publicly celebrate their connection instead of hiding it from everyone.

That’s a lot of people in one small cottage, but Ibuki says the more, the merrier! The party goes late into the night with pizza, make-up, hairstyling, gossip, games, and waiting with permanent marker in hand to draw on the first to fall asleep (Gundham). Gradually, everyone leaves for their own cottages. Sonia wants to stay for her first sleepover experience, but Ibuki promises to do it another night.

Byakuya helps clean up. Proclaiming the party a success, he bids Ibuki good night. “Hey, you’re not escaping that easy!” she says as he touches the doorknob. “You’re staying with Ibuki tonight!” This was her plan all along, she explains. She felt bad that he was the only one who slept by himself at the Hotel Mirai. So despite what she told Sonia, a sleepover’s happening tonight after all.

“That’s a great deal of trust to place in someone during a killing game,” Byakuya says. Ibuki brushes off the notion that he would ever kill her and pinky-swears that she won’t kill him. “People will jump to conclusions when we walk out of here in the morning,” he says. She replies that people can think what they want and she wouldn’t care. “The bed’s too small for both of us to fit,” he says. Ibuki teases him for such a brazen suggestion, then affirms she was going to take the sofa anyway.

“Please stay,” she finally says. That’s when Byakuya realizes that this sleepover idea isn’t just for him. He steps away from the door. They get comfy, Byakuya in her bed, Ibuki on the sofa, and hit the lights. He’ll be sure to wake up early and return to his own cottage before the others can notice. For now, the two friends rest together.

Meanwhile, in another cottage …

Nagito broods. Ibuki and Byakuya’s invite is in his hands, but he barely notices. The boy has too much on his mind. Despite being alone, he talks aloud just to straighten out his thoughts.

“I was going to start the killing game myself. I was planning to help the Ultimates achieve a greater hope to beat back despair, even if it meant sacrificing everyone else to elevate one. But Chiaki’s murder was such a waste. There was no hope behind Kazuichi killing her. And now, Mikan … that an Ultimate could descend into despair like that is maddening! Are they all so weak? Can someone like me really count on them? Maybe … maybe …”

He lifts his left hand and finds the letter crumpled beyond recognition. He’s still ruminating as Chapter 1 of “I DISAGREE: An Ibuki Mioda SDR2 Protag Swap AU” comes to a close.

Next time: ... I'm not sure! I might add a few random notes to round out Chapter 1. I'd love to respond to questions or suggestions if anyone has any (send an ask!). I'm also strongly considering a short hiatus. I know, many a long-term fanwork has died from the creator taking pauses, but I've got other fic-related ideas simmering and I'd like to develop Ch. 2 rather than coming up with it on the fly.

This has been a ton of fun, and I'm just proud that I was able to keep up with a serialized project. Watch this tumblog and we'll see what the future brings!

PREV: Mikan Tsumiki, Ultimate Despair

NEXT: A Few Last Notes on Chapter 1

[heartofannie]

@death-is-not-my-enemy challenged me to post 10 songs from shuffle. Thanks my friend!

I tag @4ever-hurt @tequila-daisies @invisible-madness if you want to:)

[yuichi-ro]

inspiration struck a little for my crossover fic( at the worst time yet again yay) and i have decided to (ab)use naoya zenin like the ugly little plot device that he is for angst purposes.

because imagine; reader and getou have been promised since childhood, its the only use the damn higher ups have for women and of course they like each other, maybe even more than friends but neither wants it to be under these circumstances. so they plan on breaking it off as soon as reader has a stable enough footing in the sorcerer world to protect herself from any influences, and if they ever do get together they both know it’s voluntary (even though reader knows of getou’s feelings due to their ability and the fact that he pushes those aside for her well being makes her fall a little harder).

but then naoya zenin comes along. the embodiment of the worst of the worst. whatever naoya zenin wants, naoya zenin gets like the narcissistic dickhead that he is. but he cannot go for a woman who is already promised to another man.

so reader is stuck yet again. right man wrong time perhaps, as they cannot break it off or a marriage to naoya would be inevitable. in the spot that she is in right now, promised to getou and teammates with gojo, it grants her a certain immunity but it is not an immunity she gets on her own, no freedom, only freedom through others.

which of course spirals reader deeper down into a vortex of conflicting emotions as she looses any sense of who she has ever been or ever thought she was.

and she loves her friends- gojo might be an annoying cockroach but he still buys her her favourite snacks and uses his clan influence for her and the other people in his life. utahime, her senior from kyoto that spoils her and spends all her time with reader whenever she gets the chance to. and getou. the right man at the wrong time, the wrong life perhaps.

its this shadow of this crushing world that looms over her at all time she tries her best to have countermeasures against juxtaposed with the seeming simplicity reader gets introduced to by people like baji

oh the angst and hurt/comfort i can taste it on my lips

also totally not me thinking about a “bad” timeline takemichi has to prevent- havoc caused by getou and later kenjaku a weakened jujutsu society and reader’s pain and grief over everything she has endured, every moment she has lived in the presence of humans whose thoughts she can never unhear giving birth to a truly twisted curse from mankind- mahito.

it really does fit tho- the one who understands human the best ending up causing mahito into existence though, doesn’t it?

-🌌

the way you made me look at Naoya's god damn wiki for too long and I didn't realize he was the same age as the Getou/Gojo/Shoko group?? I thought he was younger seriously??? Maybe it was just the baby gets what baby wants attitude but I missed that by a long shot I had no idea he was the same age as everyone else?? god I hate trying to decipher the Zenin/Fushiguro family tree everyone's a fucking cousins or a fucking uncle bunch of mother fucking inbreds istg-

ok ok ok now forgive me, it's been a stressful weekend (police reports here we come wee) but what you're mulling over/adding is the removal of Getou and Reader terminating their engagement after Reader makes a name of themselves (like what Maki was doing) but throwing in the monkey wrench that Naoya, prissy bitchy Naoya, meets Reader and decides that's the woman of his dreams and he wants that one. Inevitably revoking the original plan Getou/Reader had to give Reader freedom over their career in the Jujutsu field. Because if they don't marry Getou, they're fucking stuck with overhead control from the three big families and Naoya wants her so if the engagement is broken, Reader gets stuck with something worse than the original plan.

as much as I hate Naoya and even the idea of including him anything makes my skin crawl. I do like the idea of what that could mean for Getou/Reader's relationship. I mean c'mon they juicy unrequited love right there *froths at the mouth* While Getou is feeling the guilt for not being able to provide the woman he loves with the life she wants. The Reader is conflicted with emotions. Ending the engagement means a fate worse than death. And they know how Getou feels but refuses to acknowledge bc Getou still wants the Reader to be happy on their own terms. Now though they can't separate. Not if they both want an even shittier out come. Thoughts tormenting the Reader this time that she wants to marry Getou, that she knows deep down she loves Getou and this seems like a good time to perhaps take the marriage in stride bc there isn't really another human she could ever consider loving like this. But waiting for Getou to be upfront about how he feels now that it seems inevitable that they're going to be wed. That discussion never comes though, Getou never fesses up to how he feels and how he wants to be glad they have to get married (bc lets be honest he really doesn't love anyone else like this or would love anyone else like he loves the reader). He's still pushing like the original plan will work or at the least pushing Reader away so not to let anything transpire that isn't too out of the professional realm. Treating it as transactional as though that will save both of them from heartbreak even though they're very much in love with each other. But the sticky icky ness in their craw that this is only happening bc its an arranged marriage never leaves. Looming over constantly to taint what could actually be a very happy power couple. Bc both are stupid and in love and refuse to admit it to each other. My favorite kinda romance

also, reader being the last straw that creates Mahito? My shitty blue haired loml that is just god awful and I love him?? That Mahito into all of this and just- just- just the twisted nittering in readers ear from shitty blue haired curse that's only been alive for a few months but has dwelled in the readers soul their entire life?? that mahito??

sign me the fuck up I want the hurt 😩

[shyshiny]

I was supposed to have uploaded this yesterday, but here it is.

Ever since I saw Slurm (an OC created by @rockowski, go support him!) I thought to myself, "I wonder what would happen if he met Divine (my Shirke from my AU)," and here we are, lol.

Something tells me, though, that Slurm didn't know exactly if Divine IS ACTUALLY Shrike (which he really is) or if he's just hallucinating things.

[smallturtlebomb]

Could you draw diva and Luz fighting each other? ya know weapons up no mercy no regert!

why of course !!! I love them :3

long dramatic sighhhhh… the boys are fighting again. @shyshiny will they EVER get along… 😒

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X13

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Oh my gosh! Wow! There’s so much to say about this episode. I'm so glad that Meredith woke up and appears to be on the mend. As much as I loved the beach, I am ready for Meredith to rejoin society and the land of the living and get back to doing what she does best! I'm glad that Meredith got closure and that we as fans got closure too not just with Derek but with George as well. The beach wedding scene was perfect and the dialogue throughout was great.

I laughed out loud multiple times and Meredith and Derek’s scenes were both funny and bittersweet. I particularly liked Meredith and Derek's lines about how Meredith hates weddings, but Ellis hates the Post It Note story and wishes they had a big wedding. That she would give her that big wedding if she could. I felt like she was also saying she would give Derek that big wedding if she could. I also loved their conversation about Amelia. Derek told her what she needed to hear. Sometimes losing someone close to you at a young age makes you stronger and sometimes it turns you into Amelia.

Amelia has grown so much, but she spent most of her life a mentally unstable drug and alcohol addicted mess spiralling out of control in large part because she witnessed the brutal murder of her father at the age of five. And that’s not to say that Derek wasn’t just as screwed up by what happened to their Dad. He like Amelia became a neurosurgeon always chasing the high. He stayed in a loveless marriage he hated and when Addison cheated on him with Mark he moved to Seattle where he pretended to be single and pursued a relationship with Meredith.

Even after he and Meredith got together, he lied and cheated and repeated that pattern over and over again. First with Nurse Rose and then with Renee his research fellow in D.C. Derek could be selfish, cruel, hypocritical, and jealous. While Amelia’s scars and trauma were more obvious and blatant Derek was just as affected as she was it just showed up differently. Derek makes it clear he does not want that for Zola, Bailey, and Ellis and after talking to him Meredith realizes that she doesn’t either.

I loved seeing Meredith talk about how well Amelia is doing and Derek saying, “I know!” From the moment Derek on the beach I had a feeling they were going to talk about Amelia and the kids and all of that and I’m glad they did. One of my favourite moments of the episode was when Meredith told Derek that Ellis hates the Post It Note story and wishes they had a big wedding and Derek said, "She gets that from my mother!" I loved that they showed Ellis’ drawing on the fridge when Maggie is talking to Winston on the phone.

I love that Meredith and Derek got their beach wedding like Derek talked about in Season 5 when he made Meredith a bed in front of the fireplace. She went from never wanting to get married to marrying Derek on a Post It Note, getting legally married at the court house so that they could adopt Zola, and then marrying him on the beach in her COVID dream and giving Derek and Ellis the big wedding he always wanted and the one Ellis dreams of. So beautiful. I’m glad that they got closure and that Meredith decided to go back and that she knows Derek will be waiting for her when she’s ready, when it’s her time. When she’s old and senile and smelly just like they promised.

But now is not that time. She has kids to raise. Patients to treat. Sisters, friends, and family that need her. And a certain Irish doctor who would very much like to take her for a drink once she’s feeling better. I loved that Meredith realized through talking to Derek that even though her body was tired her soul was still fighting and that she needed to go back to her life. I loved her scene with Zola when she woke up and said, "We love you so much," meaning both her and Derek. That Mommy and Daddy love her so much and that’s why Meredith came back. She gave up on an afterlife with Derek to be with her children, friends, and family in the real world. That was so beautiful.

I loved Maggie's talk with Zola. I love that she took what Catherine gave her about screaming out your feelings and used it to help Zola who has been through so much express her emotions in a healthy way. I really felt Zola's heartbreak and how much she missed her Mom and Dad. I'm glad that Maggie decided to take Zola to visit Meredith. It was risky, but it paid off. The set department did a great job with Zola’s room. When she’s sitting on her bed crying you can see the photo of Meredith and Derek holding her at her first birthday party. You can also see a sock monkey that she had at the dream house.

The slop of the roof indicates that her room is in the attic. At last we saw it Lexie was living in there and Mark was visiting her while they were sneaking around, and it was an unfinished space with wood panelling. It appears that since that time as her family expanded Meredith had the attic finished and turned into a proper bedroom for Zola. We don’t know how big the attic is so it’s possible that there are more rooms up there or that there are more rooms upstairs than what we’ve seen.

I'm glad that Derek was there for Meredith in her time of need and helped her find the will to fight even though she was exhausted. I'm interested to see what's next for Meredith. If we'll see her being discharged in the coming weeks or if they will do a time jump. Will we see her at home with the kids first or back at work? Will her and Hayes finally have that drink? If so, how soon? I want to know more! I’m excited to see Maggie tell her about her engagement to Winston and see her meet Winston properly and get to know him. I’m also excited for what I’m sure will be an emotional scene when she thanks Amelia and Link for taking care of her kids while she’s been sick.

I’m also expecting some very emotional scenes with Richard and Bailey. I’m interested to see how they will address DeLuca’s death. I’d also like to see Jackson’s reaction when he returns from his most recent quest and finds out that Meredith has woken up and is doing better. I’d also like to see someone notify Cristina, Alex, Arizona, Callie, and April that Meredith is doing better. I can’t wait to see Hayes’ reaction to finding out that Meredith is on the mend! My heart!

Now let us turn our attention to the other shenanigans that were going on at Grey Sloan Memorial this week while Meredith was busying getting closure with Derek and waking up. We saw Teddy back at work trying her best to move forward. I was glad to see that she found a therapist that works for her even though it has to be virtual due to the pandemic. I'm glad that Owen was there for her. She really needs a friend right now and as Owen said previously, he's well placed to be that person. I like that he backed her up, but also pointed out that she would be destroyed if something went wrong with Meredith. That lead to her paging Winston to scrub in with her which I think was the right call.  

I think Owen did the right thing by rejecting her kiss but choosing to stay with her and let her cry and breakdown. She needs the support right now and while I’m not usually an Owen fan I think he did a good job supporting her this episode. I also really felt for him when he lost a patient he thought they were going to be able to discharge and struggled to tell the family. As he says to Teddy, they did this all the time during the way, but this is different. They are losing patients on a level that they’ve never experienced before, and they can’t even take a moment to catch their breath because they have more patients to treat and pronounce.

My heart breaks for the real life doctors and nurses who are dealing with stuff on a daily basis. It’s so hard. On a lighter note, I really loved Amelia and Link's patient storyline this week. It was funny and interesting, and it was great to see Amelia back in the OR. While it was wrong of Amelia to steal Link’s patient and I think she did overstep I understand why she was so eager to get back into the OR and she was right about what was wrong with the guy.

I understood Link’s anger and frustration, but I also appreciated that he understood Amelia and was there to support her and build her up. I like that he brought in Tom and had him on standby, but also showed complete confidence in Amelia. His line about how Amelia always likes to raise the stakes was hilarious and accurate. Another scene I loved was when Amelia and Link were leaving the hospital and Link thought she was using sexual innuendo and then she clarified that she needed to get home because her boobs felt like they were going to burst, and she needed to either pump or breastfeed. That one cracked me up!

We also saw some amazing acting by Caterina Scorsone when upon arriving home and finding Link’s parents looking after Bailey and Ellis, they rushed to the hospital thinking something was wrong with Meredith. Amelia was riding high from the surgery that day and when she thought Meredith had gotten worse, she panicked only to realize that Meredith’s condition hadn’t changed. Her sobbing and desperation as she said over and over again that she really needed Meredith to live were gut wrenching. Caterina did an amazing job.

I also really liked Bailey and Levi’s patient storyline. The peanut butter brittle woman who took up roller skating was the best! She was funny and helped Bailey see that you need to rest and also follow your joy. The scenes where the woman gave Levi the brittle and then he was smelling it made me laugh! As a result of treating that patient Bailey decided to reverse her earlier decision and let Jo switch specialities. While I’m not on board with that storyline I'm glad that Bailey decided to support Jo in following her joy. Making someone stay in a role they don't like will only make them resent you and make everyone involved unhappy.

That being said, I hate this career switching storyline. It’s so dumb. I've realized with this episode that my opinion on this storyline isn't ever going to change. If they use it as a segue for Jo adopting Luna that could be interesting, but watching Jo leave general surgery behind and re-specialize in OBGYN so she can stand on the sidelines while all the other characters do ground breaking work and cool procedures just seems dumb to me. I am not invested in this storyline at all.

Levi and Jo have great comedic timing which was on full display in this episode. Jackson was MIA this episode because he went roaring off on another one of his quests leaving the person he’s dating in the lurch and telling them about it after the fact. He took a leave of absence from work and then left Maggie a voicemail back in Season 15 telling her he needed some time to think and then went camping in the woods to look at trees which lead to him talking to April and texting a woman he met on this trip behind Maggie’s back. He then left her in the fog on a dark road in an area with bears at the end of Season 15.

Now he’s left Jo to go on an unknown quest that’s 11 hours away. When did Jackson become the guy that just vanishes at random to go do whatever the heck he wants? I was surprised that Nico asked Levi to move in with him at the end of the episode. That was not at all the answer that Levi was expecting so I understand why he ran off and said he promised Jo he'd do a movie night with her. Levi wanted to move in with Nico last season and Nico didn't want that, but instead of just saying that outright he dodged the topic and was a real jerk about it. That resulted in them breaking up and Levi moving in with Jo.

They only got back together because of the pandemic and in the intervening time Levi has grown as a person and no longer wants that kind of a relationship with Nico. When he told him that him leaving his bathroom bag at his place didn't mean he was going to move in with him he was being sincere. He just didn't want to have to keep carting his toothbrush back and forth all the time. In response Nico realized he's always running away from what scares him and pushing people away when they get too close and he wants to fix that, so he asked Levi to move in with him.

Therein lies their problem. They're never on the same page. When Levi wanted to move forward and take that next step Nico didn't want to. Now that Nico wants to move forward and take the next step Levi is no longer interested. What a dilemma. I also noticed that Jo and Levi had very similar outfits at the beginning of this episode. You know you’re becoming good friends with someone when you start unconsciously matching outfits.

Onto the next episode’s promo! We see Jackson driving in the rain, showing up on someone’s doorstep talking to himself about how his appearance might seem impulsive, but he has thought it through. The door opens to reveal April who is holding Harriet in between clips of his and April’s relationship. I have a few theories about this. First off, I think they are faking us out. If there was trouble in paradise and things weren’t going well with April and Matthew, they wouldn’t have had Jackson make a comment in the first half of the season about how Matthew is spending more time with Harriet then he and April are because they are taking more COVID shifts.

April is a deeply religious Christian woman whose faith is really important to her. She was vehemently opposed to getting a divorce even though her relationship with Jackson was clearly over because of her faith. Marriage is not something she takes lightly so I have a hard time seeing her divorce Matthew out of the blue because Jackson shows back up and is in crisis when her and Matthew have been together for the past three seasons and have been married for two.

Also, they are raising two children together and co-parenting one of those kids with Jackson. A lot of court services were shut down in the first few months of the pandemic for safety reasons which made it difficult to get a divorce and this episode takes place in June of 2020. So even if April and Matthew split up they couldn’t legally get a divorce very easily at this time and if April and Jackson got back together they would still have to interact with Matthew on a regular basis because they are co-parenting kids together and there’s no way that April would walk away from Ruby.

The only way I could see April and Jackson getting back together is if Matthew has died or fallen ill somehow. Otherwise I just don’t see it. I think they’re faking us out. I think the clips in the promo are there to entice japril fans and play into that because logistically I don’t see how a storyline in which April and Matthew suddenly divorce and April and Jackson get back together in one episode is possible.

Until next time!

[skellebonez]

58! With a certain King and a red fiery boi ;) Poor red boy deserves a better dad, in my opinion.

Oh yeah he definitely does. Warning: hints of past parental abuse, under read more for length only though.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

“C’mon Red, you can’t keep running off like this!” Wukong shouted after the fire demon, jumping to land in front of him and cut off his exit back to his boat. “You’re worrying MK and Mei, hell you’re even worrying Pigsy! Do you want them to worry about you!?”

“Well that shouldn’t be happening because I can take care of myself,” the red head snapped, trying to push past the monkey to no avail. “Let me past!”

“No, not until you tell me what’s going on!” Wukong yelled, reaching for Red on his left when he should have reached for his right and letting him get an opening to rush past him. “Hey stop!” Red Son paid no mind to him. “I SAID STOP DAMN IT!” 

He reached out, grabbing the back collar of Red Son’s jacket to stop him... and Red Son yelled before bringing his hands up to cover his face. No, that was not a response in anger. Not in confusion either. Wukong knew that yell from centuries ago too well.

Red Son was afraid.

Wukong wrenched his hand back in surprise, watching as Red Son flinched away. Flinched. That... was not the reaction he had expected. “Are y-”

“I’m fine!” Red Son snapped, turning away from him sideways and scrunching up his shoulders as it to protect himself from another grab from the Monkey King. “You-you just startled me.”

The two stood for a moment, Red Son gripping his jacket and Wukong could see his knuckles going while as his hands shook almost unnoticeably. Something was a lot more wrong than he had originally thought.

“... I’m sorry,” He said, holding up his hands to show Red that he wasn’t going to grab him again. “Please, just... sit down. Stay there, ok? We need to talk. Just talk.”

There was more silence and then Red Son nodded his head stiffly before sitting on the ground, head ducked and eyes hidden in his lightly sparking hair. Wukong gestured for one of his mountain monkey’s attention, giving it instructions before moving to sit beside Red, just within arm’s reach but far enough that they weren’t touching. He looked at him only out of the corner of his eye, pretending to pay more attention to the view of the far away ocean and Flaming Mountains instead. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind. It doesn’t have to be the whole answer, just start with anything.”

It took a moment. A long moment of silence, and if this had been the same time as the first day they met back when he was known as Red Boy he wouldn’t have had the patience to wait for him. But he had plenty of practice with that now. 

“... I..” Red Son started, trailing off and groaning as he rubbed his hands together. “I just... need some time alone to think. That’s why I keep coming here without telling anyone. I wanted to be somewhere... somewhere mother and father wouldn’t look...”

Ah. So it was related to that. Wukong sat straighter, turning slightly so Red Son would know he had his attention.

“... I was never really scared of my father until... Until the White Bone Spirit,” Red began to explain. “He tried to kill me. Called me a-a traitor! And if my mother had not intervened...” He took in a shaky breath. “I can’t stop thinking about that. I’ve TRIED but every once in a while when I think I’m happy again I’ll just hear his voice and remember how it felt to be that close to being crushed by my own father... So I just come here. To walk in the flames. To hide in the caves. Just so I can forget for a while... It never lasts though so... I keep coming back.”

Wukong frowned, biting his lip and wondering what he should do or say before deciding to move closer. He paused with Red Son flinched again, holding up his hands. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said softly. “Trust me. Please. MK trusts you and I promised him I’d do the same. Can you return that?”

More silence. Red Son tensed and for a split second he looked like he was going to bolt. But instead he nodded and Wukong took that as a que to slowly, very very slowly, wrap him in a careful hug and tuck the smaller demon’s head under his chin.

“You can come here any time you like, ok?” He whispered softly, feeling Red relax and start to shake. He felt the heat of his tears before he felt the steam hit his face. “Any time, no reason needed. Just promise me you’ll tell MK or Pigsy before you do.”

“O... Ok...” Red Son whimpered out, sounding for all the world like the most tired being on the planet as he leaned into the Monkey King completely.

“Ok,” Wukong repeated, letting the younger demon breath shakily and cry against his armor as he held him. Things had become so... so wrong, so backwards. He remembered how his parents fight tooth and nail for him, once upon a time, back when they needed the iron fan to continue their journey west. They loved their son. And now he was terrified of them. This wasn’t just from the White Bone Spirit. This was something that had been happening for a long time. What had happened in the centuries he had been gone when Red Son had rejoined his mother? What had she done to the boy?

Wukong... Wukong didn’t know if he could fix this. But he would damn well try.

Just as it seemed that Red Son had cried himself out the mountain monkey that Wukong sent off returned, a basket carried on it’s back.

“Ah, good, thank you little one,” Wukong pulled back from Red Son and did not miss how he initially tried to follow him so they would not break contact before pulling back himself. The Monkey King took the basket, carefully remembering to scratch the monkey behind the ears before it ran off, and set it beside them. “Here, you’re going to need something after that.” He reached in and pulled out a bottle of cold tea and a chilled bun.

Looking at the offered food for a second longer than the elder was comfortable with, Red Son eventually took them and ate a bite of the bun slowly and quietly. He hummed as he swallowed his first bite. “I... expected peach,” He said, smiling softly.

“You seemed like more of a lychee kinda guy.”

And Red Son nodded, seeming to realize the implication of Wukong keeping his favorite fruit on hand to make homemade treats with as he continued eating his lychee bun.

[displacedentities]

Callie's Key

Mod: A quick-fic I made for the Fiascrew! I wanted to write out a potential introduction to how Spooky's (@fedoraspooky) character Callie (plant character via @mak-to-the-future) across Destin's artifact, the Night Key :) Hopefully you like it!

~~~

Old Mr. Prescott had had enough. Fed up with all the junk piling up in his garage, it was time to clean the place out. He wasn't a hoarder, but rather he collected a variety of paraphernalia over the years, as older folk do. Some of the junk might classify as antiques, but as far as he was concerned, that was just a fancy word for junk with a price tag. Maybe he could actually make some coin from all this nonsense in his house, and get some much-needed walking space while he was at it. There was, of course, that damn box to deal with.

Prescott had gotten into the habit of storing everything he wasn't sure how to sort, handle, or throw away into a single box, simply labeled 'WEIRD THINGS' in big capital letters. While the cardboard outside was benign, Prescott was certain at least a couple items that got tossed inside were cursed. He kept the box of 'WEIRD THINGS' shoved far into the corner of the garage under a tool bench for several years, until something he picked up made affairs surrounding the box significantly worse. Tools started to fly off the rack, rearrange themselves into cryptic symbols and messages on the work table. One instance, he even got the word 'STUCK' spelled out from wrenches and a tire iron. It was at that point, Old Mr. Prescott knew he was being haunted. Something else had arrived in his house, it threw things to get his attention or stole food from the fridge, and he had no idea how to drive it out. Professional exorcism did nothing - the wrenches were arranged to spell 'NO' a mere hour later. Setting up protective runes to drive out malevolent demons had no effect at all. The fridge was missing a jar of blackberry jam the next morning, found empty on the tool table. Old Mr. Prescott had moved the box away from the tool table and shoved it into a closet right after. But today was the day. He was going to be done with that cursed box, and whatever random object inside had brought this nuisance upon his house. With any luck, he might be able to sell it off with the rest of the junk. If not, Prescott resigned himself to throwing the entire box in the trash, and hopefully doing away with the poltergeist plague. He was getting too old to deal with this. --- Callie peeked out the window of the car as her mother drove through the residential neighborhood. Big eye blinking in the bright light of midday, she watched the trees full of autumn leaves zip by in a blur of color. It was so pretty! And it looked just like her hair! She was almost 6, soon to be a big girl, and she was quite proud of the vibrant yellow-orange petals starting to puff out from under the leaves on top of her head. Mom said it made her look quite fluffy, which made her think of her T.Rex stuffy, Munchy. Callie hugged Munchy tight, feet wiggling over the edge of the cushion. She was bouncing in her chair, excited. Her mom, a Dryad with hair made from sunflower petals and leaves, hummed to herself as she drove. She glanced over to Callie every now and then, smiling gently. "Thank you for being so patient, sweetheart," Mom says, reaching over with one hand to bump her daughter on the shoulder, before her hand returns to the wheel. "I know we've done a lot of errands today, but just one more, ok? We'll get ice cream afterwards- how does that sound?" "Ice cream!" Callie repeats, brightening at the thought. Ice cream?? Yes! Mom chuckles. "Mr. Prescott is having a garage sale for the first time in fifty years- there's sure to be some interesting finds in all that mess! The man hasn't cleaned house since we moved into the neighborhood before you were born. If you find something small that you like, I'll get it for you, ok?" "Yay!" Callie cheered, holding up Munchy in delight. A present, AND ice cream later? This was the best day out ever! The drive through the neighborhood was brief. The closer they got to the destination, Callie's mother squinted, making a sound similar to clicking her tongue. "Shoot, looks like we weren't the only ones with that idea," Mom mutters under her breath, looking left and right. Callie sits up, craning her neck to look outside at the houses. There were cars all over the place! Mom eventually finds a spot to park, a short distance from a house with wooden shingles and roof tiling. Gravel crunches under Callie's blue rubber sandals as she hops down from the car, turning to stare in wonder at the squat old house. It looked like a pop-up book whose contents had unfolded into the lawn and driveway. Furniture was strewn across the yellowing autumn grass, neatly arranged in a grid with walking space between every piece. Chairs, a

coffee table, a big old couch whose leather had softened from use. A squat Sphinx cat-man in a striped shirt, bowtie and overalls leaned on his cane while he spoke in a gruff voice to a woman. Callie didn't understand everything they were saying, but it was something about money, and the coffee table. Next to the furniture were foldout plastic tables covered in random things, some of which Callie had never seen before in her life. Kitchen utensils that could be from the Great Depression, glass dishware in pristine condition, hand-me-down clothing in less pristine condition. Oh! There was a toy table! Callie immediately scampered over to the toy table, hopping up and down to get a good look at the wares. The selection was charming, and had the warm feeling of well-loved antiques. A wooden pull-along train, a cloth teddy bear with button eyes, a cup with a ball on a string, and... some wooden cage-things with jingle bells in them? Callie shook one of them to see what noise it made, and the wrinkly cat-man looks up with ears perked for a moment, before shaking his head with a huff and returning to his conversation. Callie feels a hand on her shoulder, and smiles up at her Mom as she ruffles Callie's petal hair with the same hand. "I'll be talking to Mr. Prescott about some of the glass dishes," Mom says. "Don't go wandering off, and stay where I can see you. If you can be very careful and promise me you won't break any of Mr. Prescott's things, you can go ahead and explore, ok sweetie?" "Ok mom," Callie says, bouncing on her feet as Mom ruffles her hair one more time. "I'll be right over here," Mom says with a nod, keeping an eye on Callie while she walks over towards the cat-man, who had finished speaking with the other woman by this point. Free to explore, Callie's eye sparkles as she examines this wonderland of new things to investigate. It was like a playground, but small! Callie wastes no time hopping onto the big couch, quite pleased with how soft it felt. There was something just- fun!- about a couch being outside. It felt forbidden, like taking a cookie from the jar before dinner. From her elevated vantage point, Callie could see all the houses across the street, as well as some of Mr. Prescott's neighbors. One of them was mowing the lawn! Callie waved with enthusiasm. They stopped and stared at her, and Callie beamed a smile back. They kept staring, lawnmower stalled. Probably admiring her pretty orange petal hair! She was so proud of it. Callie stayed on the couch for another minute or two before she slid off, eager to look around. Mom said if she was nice and careful, she could have something small from all the things to play with here. She was going to be the best daughter ever. Callie explored through the kitchen things, first- while she was quite a mean chef with an Easy Bake oven, she wasn't quite tall enough to reach the counters yet in Mom's kitchen. A metal ladle was the first to be picked up, as she gently swung it around to feel the weight. Hm. Shiny, but heavy. Probably not fun to carry around for very long. She put it back down. Next was an ironically stained stainless steel pot. That went right over her head. Hmmm. No, it blocked her eye. Not a good helmet. Not much else in the kitchen section was interesting, aside from a few wooden spoons that were smooth to the touch. Callie could see her Mom side-eyeing her from the table where she was talking five feet away. Callie carefully returned the kitchen things to their proper places and moved on to the next table. It was covered in books! Callie got very excited, until she saw how thick they were. These would take forever to read! Maybe she could convince her mom to pick up some of the more colorful books for them to read together, but aside from making a fort or tiny city using the books as bricks, there wasn't much this table had to offer for a five-year-old. At least the books smelled nice. The old clothing didn't smell so nice. Callie poked her head into the hanging rack of old coats and shirts, feeling like a spy - until the scent of

mothballs made her sneeze, and she pulled her head back out with a squint of disgust. Ew. The clothes were all too big, anyway. And some had holes in them! She could have sworn she saw a small poof of moths flutter off one of the old frock coats. She liked bugs, but not in clothing. The thought of a moth crawling around her favorite yellow dress and nibbling at her pretty petal hair made her squirm. At long last, Callie let herself return to the piece de resistance- the toy table. She wanted to play-test everything here! Within reason, of course. Mom said to be careful. Carved wooden train cars, a deck of cards- even the creepy monkey with the pair of cymbals got some attention. Callie poked at it, afraid it would move, and was grateful when it remained inert. The eyes wigged her out. No thanks. The cards were arranged in patterns, and she didn't quite know how to play with them, but they fascinated her regardless- definitely not a first choice, though. Callie compared the old cloth teddy to Munchy, who she sat up next to it with a critical toddler eye. The teddy was a bit smaller than Munchy, and not quite as soft. Cute eyes, though! Callie picked up the wooden train cars, turning them over in thought. They felt sturdy, and were polished with wood lacquer. Soft and smooth, and really cool! It was a bit heavy, but that was fine. She was sorely tempted to pick one as her choice, but she had to know how they rolled. If they couldn't roll like a train, they wouldn't be fun. Putting all of the other toys back where they used to be, Callie set the toy train engine on the floor, and pushed it with her hand. The toy train made a delightful clatter of wooden parts, the wheels carrying it over the bumpy concrete of the driveway. It comes to a stop after a foot of travel. Callie smiles, clapping her free hand against Munchy, before scampering forward and taking the pull chord. It rolled so easily behind her, and she didn't have to worry about breaking it if she was in front. Callie giggles, running in delighted little circles with the train clacking along behind her- -until the train veers from a bump in the concrete, and clatters into the leg of a smaller foldout table. The bump wasn't strong, but it was enough to make the table rattle. Callie froze on the spot as several small trinkets and random objects fly off the table to the ground, fear spiking in her chest as she looks over towards her mom. Mom was still talking to the cat man about the set of chairs, but she did glance over with a raised eyebrow. Callie quickly waved back with a smile, trying to feign that everything was alright. Her mom looked curious for a moment, before the cat man drew her attention back to the conversation at hand. Callie immediately drops the train chord and kneels on the ground next to the small table, checking desperately to make sure everything that fell off was okay. The small table had been holding random trinkets and knickknacks, pieces of old jewelry, and a metal cup that thankfully stayed on the table- Callie was sure she would have been in trouble if Mom heard THAT hit the ground. The objects that fell from the table were all sorts of small things, ranging from expensive-looking jewelry to simple puzzle toys that looked more like key chains for a backpack zipper. Callie quickly picked up a necklace- which, thankfully, hadn't broken or chipped- featuring a large amber-colored stone, and stood up to replace it on the table. Necklaces hung from the weird bird perch-looking thing, right? There were other necklaces on it, so that was where it was going. She had to hop a few times to reach it, but she managed to loop the necklace back on the display. Next was a wooden block puzzle- it was so simple that she solved it in her efforts to put it back together, before setting it on the tabletop. Some rings, sparkly rocks, more key chains- Callie knelt down to continue cleaning the mess, panic still bringing a light sweat to the back of her neck. Among the mess was a small bag of marbles, and she'd accidentally knocked one of them across

the asphalt of the driveway. Scampering over, the youngster picks up the shooter marble- and pauses. Sitting on the sunlit path, sparkling in the light, was a small key. Blue-black of the deepest reaches of space, shaped so strangely, it lay half-under a stray tablecloth from where it had clattered to the ground. Callie couldn't make out a lot of details, but even from here, the light that hit the object was seemingly absorbed by its depths, casting almost no shadow. Yet, the sunlight caused a small scattering of stars to sparkle on the asphalt. ...Callie crawls forward, leaning under the table and lifting the cloth with one hand to pick it up. She slides back out to hold the key in the sunlight, fascinated. The key was very odd in shape. The teeth were thick and blocky, with an angled shape she hadn't seen on her toy keyring. The head of the key was weird, too- three holes arranged in a semicircle, and the top was swirled. Like ice cream, or a cinnamon bun! This key was so pretty! But- what was it a key for? Well, whatever it was for, it sure was pretty! Why would the cat-man be selling a key? Didn't you need keys to lock and unlock stuff? If he was getting rid of it, he must not need it anymore. ...a gentle breeze tugged at Callie's sleeve. She- felt something at her shoulder. Callie turns around, curious and confused- but there's nothing there. Huh. That was strange. But- she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was here. She wasn't scared, though. It was a warm presence. A gentle one. She couldn't explain how, but she knew. Whoever or wherever they were, they were nice! "Callie?" her mother called. Callie jumped to attention, startled out of her small reverie by the crashing reality that she still had a mess to clean up. She scrambles to pick up the remaining items and shove them back onto the table, no longer caring for organization- -but the ground is clean. Huh? Did she pick it all up already? Callie could have sworn there were still scattered items on the driveway. But the ground was clear. Even the wooden train car, which she'd crashed into the table leg, was back in its place on the toy table. How-? "Callie!" Mom says, and Callie spins around with a wide eye. "Honey, are you alright over here? I thought I heard something fall over." "Oh- I'm ok, mom!" Callie says quickly, putting on a smile. Inside, she's still confused. Did she clean up the mess that fast? "Okay," Mom says, looking around with a critical eye. Seeing nothing amiss, she appears satisfied. "Have you settled on something to take home, sweetie?" Callie takes a breath to answer that she wanted the train car- then stops. She squints, thinking. She looks down at the key in her hands, turning it over in the sunlight. It sparkled and was warm to the touch. It felt good to hold, smooth and polished. She couldn't explain why, but it felt like holding Munchy- soft and comforting, somehow. "I like this!" Callie said, making up her mind as she holds up the starry key with a smile. "Oh my," her mom says with a smile, looking at the sparkling key her daughter presented. "It's so lovely! Are you sure you want this, and not one of the toys?" "Mmmm," Callie hums in thought, eye narrowed. She did really like that train car, but... she makes a big smile. "No, I want this! It's pretty! Feels soft, like Munchy!" Mom chuckles, patting Callie on the head as she hefts her stuffed T. Rex and hugs it tight. "If you're sure, pumpkin. Let's take it over to Mr. Prescott, and we'll see if we can buy it." Callie's mom gently takes her hand, and starts to lead the tiny flower puff away from the display tables back towards the lawn. Callie clutches her pretty new key to her front, beaming. It wasn't a toy train, but it was so pretty! She'd definitely add it to her keyring, filled with toy keys and old spares her mother let her play 'house' with. Her shadow warped on the ground behind her skipping steps, forming into a curious silhouette. Flowing almost like water, the shape is thin, and retains a vague semblance of a person. Three eyes, like cutouts

in a piece of paper, followed Callie with a gentle curiosity from the head that flowed like gel in a lava lamp. The warm presence remained at Callie's back, as the child pranced at her mom's side to buy her pretty new trinket. --- Callie's mom finally finished talking to Mr. Prescott. The sphinx cat-man didn't blink an eye at the item of Callie's choosing, asking only for a handful of dollars in exchange. He shook paw with her mother's ebony black hand, and the two turned towards the arrangement of chairs set out for display. Callie watched as her mother passed the cat-man several more large green bills, and he gestured with his cane towards the chairs with a gruff nod. Looking relieved, Callie's mother walked over to her daughter and knelt to eye level. "We're just about done, sweetie," Mom said, smiling as she ruffled Callie's petal hair, earning a giggle. "Mr. Prescott's just going to help me load up the chairs, and we can get going for that ice cream, ok?" "Ok, mommy," Callie agreed, smiling. "Thank you for being so patient, baby girl," her mother sighed, quite tired, but managing. "This is the last errand, I promise. Hang tight, I'll be right over here- and don't go anywhere!" Callie nods, sitting down on the grass with a happy hum as she plays with some clovers popping out of the lawn. Her mother walked back over to where she'd parked the car. With the help of the old cat-man, who was surprisingly limber for his age, Callie's mother got ahold of some straps and began the process of lifting the dining room chairs from the grass one by one. Callie smiled and waved every time they got close, getting smiles from her mom and amused half-chuckles from the cat-man. She busied herself with plucking the little clover blossoms, arranging them into little intertwined bracelets. She even got ambitious and started making a flower crown- it smelled really nice! Struggled to hold its shape, though, with how short and flimsy the clover stems were. Maybe the bees would like it? Callie liked bees, so fuzzy and clumsy. At least Munchy liked it! She put her first tiny flower crown on the T. Rex's head. Callie's mother and Prescott finished moving the chairs to the car, and started lifting them to be secured down on the car roof with the straps. Right then, Callie feels a rough grip latch onto her arm. Startled, Callie yelps as she's pulled up to standing, her eye snapping wide open as she looks up in shock and surprise. The hand on her arm belonged to the neighbor she'd spotted from the couch, the one who was mowing their lawn not long ago. They were holding her arm very tight! It hurt! She squirmed and tried to push the fingers off of her, but she was a small child and this was an adult. They were much stronger. "Hey kiddo," they say, smirking with alcohol on their breath. "Your mom's busy, so she told me to watch you for a bit. It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you." Alarm bells were firing off in Callie's mind, as she stared up at this total stranger in fear. Her mom told her all the time, don't talk to strangers! This stranger was way too close for comfort, and hurting her! "L-let go!" Callie pleads, trying to sound brave like a big girl, but it only came out in a squeak. "You're weird!" "I'm weird? You've got a flower for a head," they say, less amused, and frowning now. "There's a lot weirder things than me in this world, kid. How about we take a break from the sun in my house? It's right across the street, you saw it from your little seat on the couch earlier. We can even pet my dog- how does that sound? Your mom said it was ok." Callie looks desperately over to her mother, trying to confirm in some way if this was true, but her mother was still busy loading the chairs on the truck. She was on the other side, and couldn't see what was going on unless she peered through the car windows. The neighbor yanks on Callie's arm, causing her to yelp again as she's tugged off the grass and away from Munchy. "Come on, kid- let's go, it'll be quick," the neighbor insists. "No!" Callie says, trying to raise her voice as

she tugs back, straining with all her might to pull away. "Let go!" Somebody help! Please! wcrACK The hand releases, and Callie plops down onto the grass in surprise. From her shadow on the ground, a long snakelike limb had sprung into reality, and whipped the neighbor across the face with incredible force. "aUGH- WHAT THE FU-GKKGHK-" Before the neighbor can finish, the tendril swiftly wraps around their neck, tightening. It coils, lifting the stranger a foot off the ground. They struggle and squirm, held aloft and clawing at the cable of night-sky patterned darkness at their throat. Five seconds pass, and the tendril lifts them higher, before slamming their face down into the dirt. The neighbor coughs and groans, protesting the treatment as they're lifted yet again. From behind Callie, her shadow bubbles up, gaining size and definition as it materializes into a figure of its own. Movements fluid like water, the stick-thin limb around the stranger's throat is connected to an equally thin shoulder on a being whose body reflects a sky full of stars. A window to the universe in the vague shape of a person. On the presumed head is a set of golden eyes, narrowed in anger as they focus on the stranger. They tower over Callie, hovering protectively as they step forward, blocking Callie from the neighbor's sight. Callie stares, wide-eyed. This thing was so big, so strange! She didn't feel afraid- why wasn't she afraid? Were they- saving her? "Never touch her again," they warn, voice like a hissing bell. "You will get no mercy." This time, the neighbor doesn't get much chance to choke on their words. The being reels back that limb, and with a snap of elastic tension, whips the unfortunate schmuck across the lawn. They collide with a table, crumpling over one side as the contents are thrown akimbo with a loud crash. That immediately gets the attention of Mr. Prescott and Callie's mother, who stop dead before racing over to the commotion. Prescott leaps with nimble steps to yell at the neighbor, while Callie's mother runs right over to her daughter. She passes the thin void-person without even a glance. "Sweetie!" she frets, kneeling down to look over her daughter in worry. "What happened? Are you ok?" "M-mom," Callie stammers, still spooked and staring at the big starry thing right next to them. "The- they- they helped me. The star-man- saved me." "The who?" Callie's mother repeats, confused, looking around. Her eye slides right over the star-man nearby, not a hint of recognition. "Honey, who saved you? From what?" Callie's rapid heartbeat stars to slow in her chest as the fear is gradually replaced by confusion. She frowns and points over her mother's shoulder. "The star-man! They saved me," she explains, uncertain how else to explain it. She doesn't know how, but... somehow, they saved her. "They stopped the bad man. He hurt my arm..." Callie's mother wastes no time looking at both her arms. As she does so, the star-thing slides closer. Callie watches with owl-eye as the being gets very close, and extends a tendril-arm towards her. Having seen what those snake arms can do, she flinches back, and the arm stops. "Honey, I can't see where it hurts if you don't hold still," her mother says, taking the flinch as a response to her checking. Callie is still staring right at the void creature. She- can't read their face very well, if that is a face. The golden eyes blink, and they speak again. It's oddly comforting. "I will not hurt you. I promise. Will you let me help?" Were they asking her? Callie hesitates. She wasn't supposed to listen to strangers. She just dealt with a scary stranger. But this one carried that same softness, that feeling of safety. She couldn't explain how, but she knew they meant it. She could feel it in her bones. In any case, her mom was here now- if they tried anything, mom would knock them silly. Uncertain, but feeling more confident, Callie nods once. The being extends the arm again, and ever so carefully taps Callie on the arm with the pointy limb. They leave it gently overtop

the area where the bruise was forming from the neighbor's harsh grip. Warmth emanates from the contact, and within moments, the bruise that had begun to bloom faded away, leaving only the healthy charcoal-colored flesh. They remove the starry limb shortly after, Callie staring in amazement. Callie's mother is perplexed, looking at the same arm. "That's... hm. I could have sworn you were bruised... Callie, sweetie, are you alright?" she asks, concerned. Callie flexes the arm, and is amazed to find the arm is totally fine. It didn't hurt at all! That was so cool! She looks up with a smile to thank the starry stranger- -only to see empty sidewalk. Callie looks left and right. Where did they go? They were just here... "Callie?" Oh- right, her mom! "I'm ok," Callie says, meaning it this time. "Arm feels fine, now. Starry man fixed it!" "Alright," Callie's mother says, sighing once with a closed eye. "Well, as long as you're not hurt or anything, sweetheart. You tell me if anything feels wrong, ok?" "Ok, mommy," Callie says, glancing over to where the neighbor was getting reprimanded by the cat-man. The reprimands progressed into the neighbor getting menaced with the cane, cowed away from the cat-man's yowling. "Can- can we go, now?" "Yes, sweetie, of course. Let's go get that ice cream." Callie's mother takes hold of her daughter's hand, scooping up Munchy to tuck into her daughter's arms, and the two start walking out to the car. Callie glances over her shoulder, looking all over for the starry man, but not seeing them anywhere. That was a shame... she really wanted to thank them! As she clambers up onto the car seat, a star-speckled shadow follows at her back, vigilant and close. ~~~

The End

Mod: Thanks for reading!

[thedinanshiral]

My personal DA4 wishlist + thoughts

I’ve been teasing this post for a couple of weeks over at Twitter, i’m the worst! But anyway, since game journalism has decided to confirm, once again, that the next Dragon Age game will be set in Tevinter like that’s breaking news, now’s as good a time as ever to write all this down.

Locations: Tevinter, clearly. It’s been pretty much a given since the end of Trespasser in 2015, with that scene where the Inquisitor stabs a map on a table directly on Tevinter as they promise to go after Solas to stop him. But also concept art and several stories from Tevinter Nights heavily imply Antiva, Nevarra, the Anderfells, and maybe Rivain. For those of you who don’t know your Thedosian Geography 101, that’s basically Northern Thedas. And it makes sense, since so far for three games straight we’ve been first stuck in Ferelden, then the coast of the Free Marches, and later the rest of Southern Thedas. We’ve never been North, only heard of it. So in DA4 i’m sure we will finally be able to visit.

Characters: If we’re going to Tevinter, we must meet Dorian again, maybe meet Maevaris Tilani as well (previously only seen in comics), judging from the latest comics series, i’m hoping for Fenris too. And going by the latest teaser trailer, we might see Varric again. As for characters that so far we have no news of, i’d like to see Cole, the Iron Bull, and if by any chance BioWare feels like blessing us with a Hawke/Fenris reunion i might just die happy.  I’d also very much like to see the Inquisitor, but more on that later.

Companions: considering concept art and the latest teaser trailer, plus Tevinter Nights stories and new characters, we have an interesting repertoire of new potential companions. A Tevinter mage, an ancient elf (like a temple guardian) or a dalish elf (like Strife), a Nevarran mortalitasi or spirit, Antivan Crows, Lords of Fortune (new faction, kind of like treasure hunters), Qunari lady, maybe an alchemist or shapeshifter, Grey Wardens (possibly a dwarf), a liberated or escaped slave, a Siccari (Tevinter spies/assassins)..even past agents of the Inquisition could return. 

Plot: We know Solas wants to take down the Veil. We know there’s two archdemons left, and Grey Wardens are regaining some spotlight in concept art lately. We might have to fight on multiple fronts simultaneously and be strategic about it. Solas might even unleash a double Blight just to keep us distracted while he focus on his own goal, who knows. But many other things are happenig in the margins and all over the place. The Qunari Antaam is having a crisis with some of its members supposedly going rogue, the order they’re so proud of is breaking up, and the whole of Northern Thedas is facing an imminent threat of invasion. Tevinter is still dealing with remnants of the Venatori and might soon be dealing with a slaves rebellion and/or a political and social reform (Magisters Dorian and Maeveris have been working wirh the Lucerni, a group aiming to restore and redeem Tevinter). The Antivan Crows -the de facto rulers of Antiva - may be dealing with a succession crisis, as their First Talon, a powerful feared and respected but old lady, might not be around for much longer and seems her chosen heir has died before his time. Meanwhile in the Anderfells nobody’s heard anything from the Grey Wardens’ HQ at Weisshaupt since the end of Inquisition, and as told in the novel Last Flight, the sudden reappearance of griffons may have had something to do with that radio silence. So you see, get ready for another +100 hours long game because BW has plenty of stuff to keep us busy with. But in short, DA4 seems will be about primarily searching, finding, and dealing with Solas. Regardless of what you decided at the Exalted Council in Trespasser, the Inquisition or what’s left of it is most likely the group orchestrating that mission. As it was so clearly stated then, they need new people Solas doesn’t know so he can’t foresee their actions, so it’s possible the DA4 protagonist is a new agent or a third party hired to do what the Inner circle can’t due to their familiarity with Solas in the past. But at the same time -and this is assuming we get to find Solas in this game - i definitely think the Inquisitor could easily show up again. No, losing an arm doens’t mean they’ve retired forever, prosthetics do exist in Thedas, a world where you can combine dwarven craftmanship with enchantments, seriously, i don’t ever want to hear “but they lost an arm” ever again as an excuse to write them out. And no, marrying Cullen or joining the Red Jennys is no impediment to join the “Stop Solas” Squad; the end of Trespasser means something, mainly that this is personal. Be it they loved them as lovers, as friends or ended up hating his guts for using and betraying them, the Inquisitor’s relationship with Solas makes this very personal, and so having any other character do that face off would cheapen all of it, all that bittersweet angsty development and expectations of either revenge or closure. That moment should happen between those two. It adds a ton of motivation due to their past historyas well, something a new protagonist would lack entirely.  My personal best hope is for a sort of dual protagonist thing, say we play new protagonist for most of the game but a selected missions or scenes where we play as the Inquisitor once again and take over for key and heart-wrenching dialogue options. My second best hope is for the Inquisitor to show up as playable for the moment we catch up with Solas. My third and final best hope is for the inquisitor to be a sort of advisor but more like new protagonist’s boss/employer to whom they report back to and get new missions from. The Inquisitor can be stuck in meetings for the most part of it, i just want to know they’re there, behind a door, super busy but there. A cameo like Hawke’s in Inquisition is the bare miminum i can take, anyhting less than that like a mention in a sidequest description or a footnote in a codex entry would be a total  injustice. 

Romances: I’m open for pretty much anything, as any good BW fan would be. But i’d like romances to feel more alive in the sense that they don’t abruptly get stuck once you exhaust all related quests and dialogue options. As much as my Adaar liked that spank from the Iron Bull, that it was the only thing they could share after their romance was locked was a bit..meh. I liked Dorian’s tho, because his gave one the option to talk a bit, go for a walk, gossip, and sure, it all happened off-screen, and there were limited possibilities, but it was nice and made their relationship feel a bit more real, like they had more to it than kissing and stuff. It happens in most games, once you secure a romanceable companion suddenly you run out of things to do and share with them, and you get stuck with the same 3 lines of dialogue over and over again. There should be a way of solving that.

Side quests: i’m ok with fetch quests initially as it is a good way of forcing the player to go out and explore huge maps, but i’d also like the fetching to have some meaning other than checking things off a list. I want to explore many ruins, and -can’t believe i’m actually saying this- i want a Fade quest. Wait! I know what you’re thinking but don’t kill me just yet, here’s my idea: what if we could visit the Fade at certain locations to witness memories or meet with spirits and recollect information on Solas, his past, his present? Both to understand him better (keep in mind we’ll most likely get a new protagonist who isn’t familiar with him like we are as players) and try to locate him or predict his next move. It would be i think i great way of having visions of Arlathan in its golden age, maybe seeing some of the other Evanuris, how they interacted with each other and with the elves in their service, what really happened ...i just want that sweet, sweet lore, i need it.

Technical stuff: ok, graphics will be amazing for sure, but i also would really really like: better, more varied and longer hairstyles, PLEASE. Body sliders, it’s damn time we get them. Mounts that actually make a difference! Let staves blades make damage in combat, I’M BEGGING HERE. Combined classes, MAGICAL ROGUES! A homebase we can fix up/build on/redecorate as fully as possible (Skyhold was great and i love it to pieces but why were those walls NEVER repaired????) . More casual outfit options, idk i love to dress up my characters, maybe some transmog? A day/night cycle and please i would love to see Thedas’ second moon, also weather variations depending on the region. Yes, i’m ambitious.

Gameplay: i’d like more AI options for companions, but not quite like in DAO, that was too much and i rarely used it. I’m curious how they’ll do combat this time but i know for sure i don’t want the kind of combat that has me going almost frame by frame pausing at every second, it’s annoying for me. I want large areas like in DAI but with a bit more stuff to see and do although one of my favourite maps is the Hissing Wastes so i won’t complain if we get a literal desert but i’d also like it to have secrets hidden around, make me work to find and solve them, i love exploring, i jump and click on EVERYTHING like i’m still a kid playing Monkey Island. A companion in concept art seems to be holding what looks like some form of rifle, so i’m curious how they’d incorporate that in the game. I know Tevinter has the magics and dwarves have the skill, a firearm is totally within the possibilities in-game without breaking any lore; also super curious what sort of skill trees Crows or Lords of Fortune could have, are they rogues, or warriors, or both??

So far, that’s what i got in my head.Well, most of it anyways, i may have missed something but this post has to end somewhere lol

What’s in your head? Feel free to share! Have you been thinking on how you’ll create your next protagonist? All i can think of is magical rogues and that  glowing bow was all the hype i needed.

[ambersock]

On the Edge of Forever

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Lucifer (Cassifer)

Summary: Sam has a plan to deal with the Darkness. Dean is definitely not going to like it.

Word Count: 4095

Warnings: Angst, Minor Sam Whump, Swearing, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues

A/N: Takes place in Season 11, after 11.10 The Devil in the Details. More notes at the end.

Now: Dean

Baby’s tires squeal in protest as Dean uses up a month of tread taking yet another turn too fast, her back-end fishtailing with only intermittent traction keeping her from spinning out. He’ll apologize to her later. Dean slams the accelerator down as he exits the curve and hits 90 on a straight section of the backwoods road on the outskirts of a town probably called Where The Fuck Are We We’re Lost. He starts to recognize landmarks from the last time he was here almost three years ago; he’s close. Not close enough.

He hurtles towards his destination, praying to who the hell knows what (because, really, there’s nothing out there that gives a shit, is there?), that he makes it in time to stop his idiot brother from doing an idiotic thing. Because he idiotically let his brother go to talk to fucking Lucifer, and of course Lucifer got inside his head. And here he is again, wracking his brain to figure out what the hell he can possibly say to convince Sam to abandon his insane plan.

Five days ago: Sam

Ever since the train wreck that was supposed to be a “safe” visit to the Cage to ask for Lucifer’s help against the Darkness, Sam has been replaying the Lucifer-guided tour of his worst fuck ups over and over on an endless loop, hoping that repetition and whiskey will numb him just a little more each time. For the hundredth time Sam curses his hubris, thinking he would even register on God’s radar, let alone that He would answer his prayers and send him visions. For the hundredth time he curses himself for being so naïve that he never suspected that the visions were just a lure from Lucifer to reel him in, break him down, and use him as a ride out of the Cage. And he hates himself for how close he had come to caving in. More than once.

On his third shot of whiskey and his umpteenth rerun through his trail of regrets, it hits Sam: within the chain of events of disaster begetting calamity begetting catastrophe, there is one moment in time where it could have easily all fallen apart. One small delay, one broken link, would cause a cascade failure and drastically alter everything that came after. He can’t help fantasizing, over and over, about all of the different little things could have happened that would have changed the entire outcome. If only.

On his fourth shot of whiskey, Sam remembers the sigil that allowed Henry Winchester to travel through time, and he huffs out a laugh.

On his fifth shot of whiskey, Sam staggers to the archive room and starts pulling books.

******

Sam continues to stare at the passages describing the Enochian time travel spell. The task he’s set himself is a flame that has both sustained him and consumed him for days on end. There’s a tree’s worth of paper covered in notes scattered across every horizontal surface, held down by mostly empty coffee mugs distributed randomly around the cramped space. His eyes are dry and red, an eyestrain headache thrums in the back of his skull, and his back is aching from being hunched over musty tomes for hours at a time attempting to deconstruct and reverse engineer the spell, to adapt it to his specific purpose. He’s not sure when he slept last, and Dean has started to give him those sideways I-know-something’s-eating-you looks which means he’s got limited time before Dean drags him out of the bunker “for his own good”. Sam forces himself to clear his mind of everything except the patterns of Enochian writing in front of him. He’s close, he thinks he’s found the right figures, he just needs to understand how to combine them with the original blood sigil. As Dean would say, he’s on the one-yard line and it’s time to push through it.

Hours later something finally clicks like a circuit closing in his brain, and suddenly the pattern of the lesser symbols within the larger whole makes sense to Sam. The solution is simple and elegant, and it’s so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. He adds the figures to a drawing of the original blood sigil and he knows, just knows, that this is going to work. He allows himself to luxuriate in the endorphin rush that accompanies success, the feeling that he’s about to score a win. For the first time since he threw himself into the Cage, he feels like he’s finally doing something right.

The only problem now is finding the right way to tell Dean. He’s going to need some time and distance, a head-start to get out in front of Dean’s inevitable knee-jerk reaction, because Dean is definitely not going to like this. Even if it was his idea.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

It was a stroke of luck, really, that Lucifer landed Castiel as a vessel instead of Sam as he had originally intended. Dean might have caught on to Lucifer-wearing-Sam, but it was just too easy to pass himself off as the besotted pet angel when Dean had caught him tearing through the records. A contrite little “I’m sorry Dean” coupled with a soulful look and Dean was sold. It is surprisingly so much easier to masquerade as someone else topside than it ever was in the Cage. He never could fully convince Sam that it was Dean who was carving out his organs.

Fun aside, there is now a possible monkey wrench in Lucifer’s carefully laid and, so far successful, bid for freedom. He stares at the disarray of notes decorated with Enochian symbols strewn all over the small bunker storage room by his erstwhile vessel, and can’t dismiss the growing possibility that everything is about to unravel.

“Oh Sammy-boy, what are you up to?”

His vessel has been mucking around with a time-travel sigil, and it seems like he’s pretty far along. Logically, Sam would be looking to prevent the release of the Darkness, which also certainly means undoing the events leading to the damage to the Cage that allowed Lucifer to escape. There are two lessons he files away for later: one, never speak Enochian in front of a chew toy; two, sending Sam Winchester on a guilt trip tends only results in a manic attempt on his part to fix things, which is exactly how Lucifer ended up back in the Cage the second time. He takes a moment to appreciate the irony of how tormenting Sam with his past regrets might now colossally backfire on him. He questions whether it was really worth it just to see Sam squirm like that once again, but then he can’t keep a smile of contentment from spreading across his face.

Yes, yes it was. Definitely worth it.

So now to the problem at hand: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel has other important, and definitely more amusing, things he needs to attend to, such as feeding Crowley his own intestines. But this potential threat to his plans is not something he can abide. He mulls over the merits of just disintegrating Sam—not very satisfying, but efficient—when he feels a tickle from a small, dark corner of his consciousness. He sighs in irritation.

“What do you want, Castiel?”

I believe I can help.

“Yeah, not really buying that.”

Give me five minutes, and I promise that Sam will no longer be of concern.

Lucifer is loath to cede control, but at the same time his curiosity is piqued. He can always return to Plan Disintegrate later. Or maybe he’ll think of something more entertaining while he’s waiting.

“Five minutes.”

Castiel takes out his phone and picks Dean out of his contacts. As Dean picks up, Castiel reaches for the page holding the altered blood sigil.

“Dean… I’m afraid your brother is planning to do something very foolish…”

Earlier: Dean

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to fix this. Fix the Darkness. I figured out a way to take Abaddon off the board in the past. No Abaddon, no Mark of Cain. No Mark, the Darkness stays locked up. Kevin lives. Charlie lives. It’s a no-brainer.”

Dean is standing in the room where Sam had been doing his clandestine research, now devoid of the notes that Castiel had described. After 17 frantic, unanswered calls to Sam, who had gone missing all night, Sam has finally called back and Dean knows that something’s seriously off. He sounds eerily upbeat, which immediately sets off Dean’s alarm bells given how shaken and preoccupied he had been after coming back from the near-disastrous visit to the virtual Cage. Whatever Sam’s planning, Dean is pretty sure he’s not going to like it, and Sam’s not exactly forthcoming with details. Either Dean needs to get Sam to spill, or he at least needs to get a trace on his phone and figure out where he is.

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to screw with time? Mothra Effect, or whatever? And if you go back and meet yourself, won’t the universe, like, explode or something?”

“Butterfly Effect. And I’m not going back, I’m sending something back. Seriously, Dean, do you really think I can possibly screw up the time line any worse than The End of Everything?”

Dean doesn’t have a good response to that, so he switches the topic to keep Sam talking. “So how, exactly, are you gonna take Abaddon out without the Mark and the First Blade? You planning to send her one of your documentary podcasts and bore her to death?”

There’s a huff of exasperation on the other end and Dean swears he can hear Sam roll his eyes. “Hilarious. Look, I’ve found another way.”

“Then tell me where you are and I’ll come help.”

Silence.

Then, “Don’t worry Dean, I’ve got this. It’s an easy spell. You should keep researching the Darkness in case this doesn’t work.”

Sam being evasive confirms that Dean has good reason to be suspicious about this plan, but the trace is still going and Dean plays for more time.

“Don’t worry? Might as well tell me not to breathe. Let me guess: you’re sending a bomb back to blow Abaddon to fucking bits so we can’t sew her head back on.”

“…Huh. Interesting idea, but there’s too much risk that I’d end up blowing up one of us. Anyway, it’s a blood spell. Whatever goes back has to be infused with DNA so that it can latch onto the same DNA. I’m just sending some cloth back. Like I said, it’s simple.”

Dean gives in to his growing irritation at Sam’s caginess and decides to go for the direct assault.

“Sam. What aren’t you telling me?” Dean already has his suspicions of what Sam isn’t telling him; there’s only one way he can think of that takes Abaddon out of play and saves Kevin. He’s hoping he’s wrong. He’s also dying to know how time travelling cloth comes into this.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Sam.”

“Look, just promise you’ll hear me out, okay?”

“SAM.”

Dean can hear Sam take a breath, like he’s getting ready to plunge into deep water. “…I’m going to make sure I finish the third Trial.”

There it is. Damn it.

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE.”

Click.

Sam disconnects before the trace finishes, but Dean doesn’t need the trace to know where to find him. He hauls ass to the garage where the Impala is waiting.

Now: Dean

Dean stands on the brake and Baby skids to a halt next to the car Sam had appropriated, sitting in front of the old, decrepit church. It’s exactly as he remembered it last, like it’s been frozen in time waiting for their return. Overgrown bushes still cling to the rotting siding, and stained glass still litters the ground from the blown-out side window. The only thing missing is the shower of angelic fireballs cascading toward the earth with Sam dying by his side, an image that perversely reminds him of watching fireworks in a field with next to his little brother.

The last time they were here, Sam was half out of his mind with fever and remorse, and Dean’s desperate I’m-Your-Big-Brother-You-Have-To-Do-What-I-Say tone had actually, thankfully, gotten through to him and Sam had backed down. He can’t believe that he has to talk Sam down from the same fucking ledge again, only it’s worse this time because Sam is laser focused on his mission to fix the problem. This time, emotional pleas and yelling and demanding aren’t going to work. This time, so help him, the only way Dean will be able to talk Sam out of this will be to throw logic at him.

Dean launches himself out of the Impala and bursts through the doors of the church to see Sam sitting, chin in hand, in the chair that once held a nearly human King of Hell. A crimson stain is spreading on a strip of cloth that he’s holding to his arm, and there is a bowl of already-mixed spell ingredients on the floor in front of him. Sam has clearly been waiting for Dean.

“Well, that was quick.”

Dean, bent over huffing, heart still pounding from breakneck drive here, is seriously tempted to punch Sam.

Before Dean can take a deep enough breath to start in on forcefully explaining to Sam how idiotic this is, Sam launches into his sales pitch. “Look Dean, I know what you’re going to say, but just listen. I’m not throwing my life away on some impulsive, reckless act. I need you to understand that, that’s why I waited for you. I’ve had days to think this through. This endless cycle of crossing lines we’ve got no business crossing, of throwing away the world to save each other, this is where it all started, and I can stop it before it starts.”

“Damn it Sam, are you even capable of coming up with a plan where you don’t die? Closing up Hell wasn’t worth your life then, and it’s not worth it now—”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, my insides were going to be deep fried whether or not I finished it. You were right when you said you shouldn’t have pulled me back. Look at everything that came after—Kevin, you becoming a demon, and—and the things that I had to do to get you back, to remove the Mark… getting Charlie killed… and how many people died when the Darkness infected that town? I mean, how can you tell me that saving all of them isn’t worth it?”

Dean feels a knot growing in his stomach because he knows damned well that it wasn’t Lucifer who got into Sam’s head. It was the Mark that told Sam that he should have been on the pyre instead of Charlie. It was the Mark that told Sam he should have died finishing the Trials. It was the Mark that told Sam that he was evil. It had said all of this to Sam for his crime of saving Dean from an eternity of suffering.

But it was Dean who never apologized, never tried to set things right.

They have both said and done abhorrent things to each other while under the control of some entity or force, and there has always been an unspoken understanding between them that they don’t take it personally. Mostly. Sometimes. Okay, Dean usually gets mad, leaving Sam to trail after him afterwards apologizing profusely. But Sam always brushes these incidents aside and moves on without a word. Hell, the first thing Sam had done after the hammer episode was to go out and get Dean a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and three different pies.

But this… this has really gotten to Sam. He didn’t just dismiss it like he did when they were under the influence of the Siren. He buried it instead and let it set down roots and infest every corner of his brain. And when Sam gets like this—like after he set Lucifer free, like after he found out what he had done while he was soulless—he just can’t let it go until he does something to atone for it. This is ironically what Dean both most admires and most infuriates him about his little brother: his unwavering determination to make things right and his absolute faith in their ability to do so. More than once he has carried Dean along in his wake by sheer willpower when all Dean wanted to do is crawl into a bottle. But these crusades never end well for Sam, and the one thing that Dean will never be able to protect Sam from is himself.

Sam crosses over to the oversized wooden double doors at the entrance, already adorned with the augmented blood sigil. He winds the cloth through both handles and ties it securely as blood continues to ooze from the cut on his forearm. Dean gets what Sam is doing now. He’s using the spell to send the blood-infused cloth back in time, homing in on his own blood in the past, to hold the doors shut back then. Dean had barely gotten to Sam in time to stop him from curing Crowley, and if it had taken him just a few more seconds to push through the door it would have been over. Will have been over.

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil on the door starts to glow dimly, and the reality that This Is Happening hits Dean like cold water in the face. He had every intention of trying to talk Sam out of this with a reasonable, adult discussion, because he knows damned well that Sam doesn’t respond to orders being yelled at him. It all flies out the window at that moment and he’s barking at Sam like a drill sergeant, because if he doesn’t, he’d be breaking down instead. He grabs Sam’s arm and spins him around.

“What the hell, Sam? You know that nothing I said while I had that thing on my arm counts. You can’t seriously believe that I meant any of—”

Sam cuts him off, his gaze intense, his voice fervent. “It’s true, Dean, what you said. Mark or not, it’s the truth. I chose to cross those lines; I chose to let the Darkness out. You told me not to, and I did it anyway. So this is me stepping up and taking responsibility. If I’ve got a chance to undo all of this, I have to take it. And right now, it’s the only play we’ve got.”

Angry words propelled by desperation shoot out of Dean before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you said about your visions of the Cage, and how did that work out for you?”

Sam visibly flinches and pulls away from Dean as his expression hardens. “Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil blazes.

This is not at all what Dean intended. He came here to talk Sam back from the edge, and instead he’s pushing him toward it. Dean swallows his anger and it tastes like acid going down, and all that remains is panic.

“Sam, just stop. I don’t care what came out of my mouth when I had the Mark, it’s all bullshit. Sam, you don’t need to do this—”

“Yeah, Dean, I really do. I wasn’t strong enough to make the right choice then, but I can do it now.”

Dean flounders for whatever magic words he needs to get through to Sam and comes up empty. He does the only thing he can think of to shock some sense into him or, preferably, to knock him cold so that he shuts the fuck up and can’t finish the spell. Dean’s fist connects with Sam’s jaw, propelling him backwards. Sam goes down, sprawling on the floor, but he’s not out. He sits up, hand to jaw, and Dean expects to see shock or anger on Sam's face, but all he sees is compassion. And Dean knows that he’s lost.

“Sammy, don’t—"

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

A blinding light envelops the cloth holding the doors shut.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

Castiel ends the call after warning Dean about Sam’s intentions. He takes a marker to one of the added symbols and alters it slightly. He freezes as Lucifer gets back in the driver’s seat.

Lucifer asks suspiciously, “And what exactly are you doing with this, Castiel?”

I’m just disrupting the sigil. The change I made will prevent the spell from accounting for the current position of the Earth relative to its position within the—

“Summarize, Poindexter.”

With the change I’ve made, whatever object Sam is sending back will end up in space. Sam will think that his alteration failed, and he won’t interfere with your plans. You would know if I was lying.

“So… I’m trying to understand this. You’re helping me by sabotaging Sam’s work… why, exactly?”

To eliminate your motivation to kill my friend.

Lucifer considers Castiel’s response. “Huh. We’ll see.”

I can still expel you.

“Now Castiel, we both know that’s an empty threat.”

Castiel is silent for a moment. Then:

It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world—

“Alright, alright. Just kidding. Grow a sense of humor.”

Now: Dean

The cloth binding the door handles is gone, but as far as Dean can tell, nothing else has changed. Sam is still on the floor, a stunned expression on his face that would be comical under any other circumstances, and all Dean can think is thank fucking God, and he starts to wonder if maybe there isn’t something out there intervening on his behalf after all.

“I don’t… it should have… it didn’t work.” Sam looks around in dazed confusion for a moment before pushing himself to his knees, and he looks up at Dean, eyes filled with defeat. Dean can’t stop the memory from superimposing itself in his mind of Sam kneeling in front of him, resigned in his acceptance of Dean’s judgment of him, waiting for the scythe to swing.

“I’m sorry...” Sam apologizes for not being dead.

Dean thinks he’s going to be sick.

He drops to Sam’s level and doesn’t know whether to shake him or maybe hit him again. He pulls Sam to himself instead and holds onto him like he’s going to blink out of existence if he lets go. Sam doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t respond.

Dean knows that there is something that Sam needs to hear, something he should have said weeks ago. Dean hasn’t been able to tell him, because it’s selfish and the good guys aren’t supposed to be selfish. The good guys are supposed to put the rest of the world first, and happily throw themselves into oblivion for “the greater good”. He keeps his grip on Sam because he doesn’t want to see Sam’s reaction to what he’s about to say; he’s not sure what Sam will think of him afterwards.

“What you said… after you risked the world for me, when you said that you’d do it again in a second…”

Sam tenses in his arms, and Dean takes a breath.

“Sammy, that wasn’t evil. That was the best fucking moment of my life.”

The statement hangs there for a few heartbeats. Then Sam relaxes, lets his chin drop to Dean’s shoulder, and tentatively folds his arms around him. Dean feels him starting to shake.

“I wanted to—I couldn’t save them.” Sam’s words fall out of him between hitched breaths.

“I know Sammy.”

“It should have been me up there instead of—”

“Don’t.”

All of the mourning that Dean hadn’t allowed Sam to express as they watched Charlie’s body burn, all of the grief that Sam has held bottled up ever since pours out of him then, and Sam clings to Dean like a drowning man to a life preserver. He doesn’t know how long they stay there. His knees are aching and his legs are falling asleep but he doesn’t care because Sam is still here and he’s alive. He waits until the tremors slow and finally stop, then slowly pulls back.

“Hey, you don’t get to put this all on yourself. I’m the one who took the Mark without reading the warning label. We’re in this together. We’ll figure this out, both of us.”

Sam just nods numbly.

“Now let’s get out of here before we hit menopause.”

Sam rewards Dean with an expelled almost-laugh and a flicker of an almost-smile, and Dean chooses to count that as a win.

~~~~~~~~~~

More Notes:

I have this nagging need to address all of the drama from 10.23 Brother's Keeper that the writers just decided to drop on the floor.

The title is named after the ST:TOS The City on the Edge of Forever. The theme of the story, at least from the original script, is that it is possible to love someone so much that you would throw away your whole universe for them. I can't help but notice the parallel to SPN.

This is exactly what Dean wants from Sam throughout seasons 8 and 9, and when Sam does it in season 10, Dean calls him evil for it. Sam just can't fucking win.

[tigerseye46]

Summary: In which after repeatedly believing Tang doesn’t care about him then receiving his attention after an accident that reveals he’s Sha Wujing, Sandy snaps. (Comes from the second scenario of this, will post the fic for the first scenario later)

Sandy was at his limit, so close to snapping and that didn’t happen, not with him. He was calm like a gentle wave but waves can ripple, be disrupted by some outside force causing the water to react almost violently before slowly returning to its tranquility.

And the thing disrupting him was Tang.

He liked Tang, he did, well love would be the more correct term for it. The scholar was knowledgeable, the amount of information that dripped from his lips could leave anyone in awe. He had a charm to him, a lively, bubbling personality that reeled Sandy in. Everything about him was beautiful and blinding and all Sandy wanted was a simple touch, a simple smile directed his way.

Tang never showed him much attention or affection, preferring to focus more on people worth his time and making small, snarky comments on the days Sandy chose to hang out with the group. It left the clear impression that the scholar could care less about him. An aching rang in his chest everytime it happened, all he wanted was a bit of affection.

And now he was getting it. Usually he would be overjoyed at finally getting what he longed for but the reason for it was not ideal.

Due to a recent adventure, the others had found out he was Sha Wujing despite his best attempts to hide that fact. There had been a mix of confusion and excitement then a promise that they would treat him the same, a promise that everyone except Tang had made.

Tang treated him rather differently, no longer treating him with scorn but amazement instead, all because he was Sha Wujing and not because the scholar liked him for him, only because he was a legend, it's the only reason he began to take interest in him.

“Sandy! Sandy,” Tang called, breaking the demon away from his thoughts.

“Yes, Tang?” He answered.

“You haven’t moved in a bit. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied. “I was just…” What was he doing? Oh, that’s right, he had been working on an invention that he thought would assist the group. “I was just checking the engine of this to see if it’s good enough.”

“Oh! Okay! As I was saying it was amazing that you-”

“Tang.”

“Yes, Sandy?”

“Shouldn’t you be at Pigsy’s right now?”

The scholar hummed as if he was briefly mulling over his answer before responding with an enthusiastic “Nope!”

Sandy held back a sigh, that was another thing that had changed, ever since the reveal the human had refused to leave his side, going on and on about Sandy’s adventures during the Journey to the West. He didn’t even go to Pigsy’s sometimes!

“Okay.” He wheeled himself out of the invention to face Tang who was staring at him with a smile that felt wrong. “Can you pass me that wrench?” He gestured to a wrench that sat still on the table.

“Of course!” He grabbed the wrench and passed it to the other, their fingers brushing together and pink dusting on the human’s cheeks that the fish failed to notice.

Sandy wheeled himself back under and used the object in his hands to tighten certain bolts. The human focused on him all sparkly eyed, happy to see him in his element. The whole scene made his heart beat wildly against his chest. He wanted it to be like this forever, just him and Sandy together.

He had liked Sandy for a long time, although he had never voiced it out loud. The other was helpful, kind and always there when you needed him. How could he not like him? He didn’t think he could like him more than he already did then it turned out he was Sha Wujing! Sha Wujing was so impressive from the legends even though he wasn’t necessarily the strongest disciple out there.

It made him a bit insecure to be in his presence since the other was so great. He was only a simple scholar despite his bravado, how could he possibly make Sandy look at him? Then he made a decision to use his knowledge to impress Sandy, it would show the demon that he knew a lot about him! He assumed it had been going pretty well based on the fact that the demon had been so sweet by letting him help out.

“You know it was so impressive when you killed that demon that tried to impersonate you!”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be reminded of that old violent part of him.

“And then you alerted everyone! It’s really impressive.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled again, a twinge of annoyance and anger shot through him. Why was he only interested in him because of this?

“And when you first met the group, that was cool!” Sandy took deep breaths to calm himself down. Don’t snap. Don’t snap. “You were smart, you hid yourself in the water where the Monkey King couldn’t get to you! And you faced off against Zhu Bajie wonderfully! And-!”

He grinded his teeth together and used his feet to bring himself out from under his invention. He stood up rapidly with brows furrowed. “Ugh! Do you ever shut up?”

The scholar frowned and gave a broken “Wha-what?”

“It’s annoying,” he started, “like have you ever listened to your own voice? It’s grating and you bring up things I don’t care about. Going on about this and that. Also do you think I like being reminded of my past that often? I spent time trying to change and you want to bring up all that again!” His eyes flashed to symbolize his anger. “It pisses me off.”

This was a surprise. Tang thought he was doing well but apparently he had screwed something up. His bottom lip quivered and tears pooled his eyes. “I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

The demon’s eyes widened, realization smacking him in the face. “Tang…” He stepped forward, taking a step back when the other flinched. “I didn’t mean to-!”

“It’s fine! I get it, totally! I won’t bother you again!” He mustered up a smile which wasn't hidden as small droplets fell from his face. “I promise, Sandy! I’ll leave you alone!”

“No, Tang. I-!”

“Bye!” He rushed off, leaving Sandy in a pool of regret. He attempted to go after him but the scholar was too quick and already gone.

He combed his fingers through his hair and sat down on his couch defeated. Mo nuzzled his leg and he left a gentle pat on his fur. “What am I going to do, Mo? I didn’t mean to snap. I hurt Tang!” Mo meowed and suddenly a light bulb went off in the other’s head. “Okay. I’ll just apologize when I hang out with the others tomorrow! Thanks, Mo! You’re great!” The cat puffed up his chest which made Sandy laugh.

The next day when Sandy saw the others, he made sure to hide any traces of his lack of sleep, too busy with finding the perfect way to make it up to Tang. Pigsy, MK and Mei were in a small circle chatting with each other while Tang was off to the side, rubbing his arm and looking down at the ground.

He approached them, then waved and yelled, “Hey, guys!” He directed his attention at the scholar. “Hey, Tang!”

“H-hi.” His shoulders were hunched and he hid himself behind the others, it shattered the demon’s heart, he made Tang scared of him.

The group noticed this exchange but remained silent. “Hey, Sandy,” Pigsy greeted. “Ready to go?”

“Yep! Where are we going? Because I think we should go to a bookstore!”

“A bookstore? Why that specifically?”

“Well Tang likes bookstores and they’re cool so we should go there!”

“Uhhhh… what do you think, Tang?”

“That’s fine,” he replied meekly.

The pig bobbed his head. “Okay, we’ll go there.”

They walked towards the bookstore with Sandy trying to get close to Tang but the human would only back away from him.

The entire day, Tang made sure to never be alone with him so they couldn’t talk properly. It continued like that day in and day out, he left the scholar a bunch of messages and calls when they weren’t around each other to apologize yet he wouldn’t answer, same with showing up at his apartment.

He heard a knock on his door late at night, he grinned, it might be Tang! He opened it to see Pigsy with a firm grip on Tang’s shirt, the human tried to scurry away. “Ummmm, hey…”

The pig rubbed the bridge of his snout with his free hand. “Hey… look I don’t know what’s been goin’ on with you two the past few days but you need to talk it out or else.” He shoved Tang into the inside of Sandy's boat.

“Pigsy,” Tang cried.

He waggled a finger at him. “I’m serious. Whatever this is has been goin’ on long enough. Fix it! “And if I see you walk out, I’m draggin’ your ass right back in,” he threatened and went away, slamming the other demon’s door shut.

“Tang…”

“I’m sorry, Sandy! I told him we shouldn’t come here but he wouldn’t listen!”

“It’s okay,” he assured. “Do you want some tea?”

“Sure. It wouldn’t bother you?”

“It’s no bother. Sit down.”

“Okay.” He sat on the couch, his hands on his lap, trying not to fidget.

Sandy sighed and made tea in a hurry then passed it to him.

“Thank you. I…”

“I’m sorry,” he cut the other off.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for snapping at you.”

“No, it’s fine. Looking back at it, I was pretty annoying.”

“No, you weren’t. You were fine. I was the problem. I scared you.”

“You didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. You deserve better than that. I… truth is…” He huffed. “The truth of why I acted like that is because I believed you didn’t care about me.”

“Huh?”

He sipped his tea and explained, “Ever since you found out I was Sha Wujing, you’ve been acting differently. You pay attention to me now, you never did that before and… it’s great you know but at the same time it hurts. You only look at me now because I’m Sha Wujing and not cause you actually like me for me.”

“What?” Tang hissed. “You thought I only liked you because you’re Sha Wujing?”

“Yea…”

Tang smacked him in the chest. “I don’t like you because of that! But did I really give you that impression? How?”

“Tang, you make snarky comments rather I hang out with you all or not.”

“I was joking… I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“I know.”

“I’ve always liked you…”

Sandy stared at him wide-eyed. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for a while even before I knew your true identity. You’re just so sweet and kind. I didn’t know how to tell you then when it was revealed who you were, I wanted to impress you so I started spewing off every bit of your stories that I could.”

“Really?”

He bobbed his head. “Really. You're so cool and have been through so much and I haven’t… I wanted to make you like me.”

“Tang, I already like you.”

“Not as a friend, Sandy. More than that.”

“I like you as more than a friend.”

Tang’s cheeks turned pink. “Are you serious?”

“Yea! I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

“Can- can I kiss you?”

Sandy choked and nodded. “Yea, I would love that.”

The scholar grinned and cupped his cheek with his free hand before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips which he returned, it was slow and sweet. “I love you,” the scholar confessed as they separated with their lips inches apart.

“I love you too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They kissed again, not paying attention to the chorus of meows that cheered them on.