#also dust is never going to acknowledge what he learned. he knows what it means. he just refuses to entertain that thought.

[ancha-aus]

Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - Mansion Invasion

The drabble idea i have been wanting to write :3

There is some stuff that hapepend in between. But it is a few weeks after Ngihtmare joined the group :3

No edit's or beta we going.

*----------------------------*

"I still do not see the purpose of getting distracted from your mission of getting my relic." Nightmare sounds unamused from where he sits in the front seat.

Dust does not look up from the road "And I like to eat something other than dry rice once in a while." and the stupid cult activity ruined most ghost hunting jobs so he needs to branch out.

Sure he hasn't hunted other supernatural stuff in a while but this shouldn't be that hard.

It are only like sex demons. And those never managed to affect him before so all things considered it is a very save job to do for Dust.

Killer whines as he uses Cross's body to lean over the back of the chair "Why is Nightmare allowed in thr front seat?!"

Ash huffs "Because you try to distract Dust while he is driving like now! Back off!"

Cross pouts as he hangs in the air with his arms crossed. Waiting for his body to finish kicking Killer out.

They figured out that once Cross's reinhabites his body he has two full days before his spirit and body become weak to possession again. Which means Killer will force his way in. Then it is a matter of who is stronger at the moment and kick the other out. If Cross remains he gets two more uninterrupted days. If Killer wins it takes the body a bit over a day to kick him out himself.

THere was this day once where both somehow managed to stay in the body and that was weird. Killer cooed about them sharing and maybe that would make for a dope threesome. Cross had turned to Horror and asked the other ghost to hit Killer which Horror happily did.

This morning Killer had won and seems to be Killer's turn to drive the body.

Dust had once asked Cross why he didn't just go back to the church to be safe. but Cross had looked embarressed as he shot him looks before muttering about how it seemed ungrateful to just let Dust fix his mess and than not even help with repaying the deal Dust had been forced to make for Cross.

Dust appreciates his assistance. Even if Cross also tends to wake in his bed now. At least he apologises. Soemthing about weird body sharing shenigans and habits. Dust didn't pay enough attention.

Etiher way!!

Work.

They drive for a moment in blissful silence.

Nightmare sighs as he looks out of the window "And what exactly does this work include?"

Dust keeps staring ahead "We are going to a mansion. Where I will search the area and find the source of an incubus and succubus infection. Once cleared I will get paid." and he will finally be able to buy some coffee and sigs. He hasn't had either in so long and he is craving both so badly.

Also maybe some medicine for his migraines and headaches. Those are starting to really bother him. Painkillers for his aching body from all his magic would also be nice. It may even finally stop the constant shakign of his right hand and arm.

Nightmare frowns "We are going to clean out a demon infestation?"

Dsut shakes his skull "No. I am. You all i just don't trust to leave in my appartment alone so you are coming along."

Ngihtmare looks insulted "I do not need a babysitter."

Dust doesn't even bother to answer that "We are almost there."

Cross frowns as he leans closer "How will you fix this anyway?"

Dust doens't look away from the road "Incubus and sucubus spread the same way. Having sex and letting the victim drink some of the blood of the demon. It makes the victim into one of them."

Killer gasps "No! If you want sex I can show you an amazing time!" and he grins.

Dust shoots him a glare before quickly looking ahead of them "I am not going to have sex with any of them you idiot! That is the exact opposite of what i am trying to do!"

Horror looks interested "So how would you fix it?"

Dust sighs "You remove the demon energy of the one who started the chain. You end the source it cleans all the ones following it. so all i need to do is find the original demon that infiltrated the place. cleanse them. and all the others will be fixed too!"

Cross hums "That sounds relatively easily..."

Ngihtmare chuckles "sounds much too easy. How will you make sure they don't trick you or infect you?"

Dust huffs "please i have dealt with them before and they never could do shit against me because i don't find anyone attractive. Hard to transform and look like someone you like when you don't have anyone." it did mke it very easy for him to spot the demons and cleanse them.

Dsut just hopes he can find the original one and doesn't have to fix each victim one by one as that would just take a lot of magic and energy that he does not have. which means he needs to focus on finding the source.

They stop before a long driveway which leads to a big mansion. It looks beautiful as it stands proud between large fields grass.

Killer snorts "Well someone is compansating for something." and he chuckles.

Ngihtmare looks unimpressed at the mansion "Honestly it looks unsightly. It isn't even that large. They clal that a mansion nowadays?"

Dust has the feeling this will be a long day. He turns his chair around and kicks killer out of the way as he walks to his equipment. He looks for a moment before just bringing his notebook with exorsice rituals. He grabs an amulet as well. Dust checks and is happy to note that the crystal powering it is fully chargest. Hopefully with this he can easily deal with this. He tugs the amulet away in his scarf.

All ready.

He leaves his van and waits for the two bodies to actually leave it as the three spirits just float around.

Dust leads the way and speaks "Now. Remember. We will be in a nest filled with these demons. Don't do anything that could get you infected." he shoots Killer a glare specifically "You especially."

Killer puts ahand on his chest "You wound me Dusty. As if i would ever cheat on you with someone else. You know you are my one true love."

Dust shakes his skull as he glances at Nightmare.

Nightmare looks amused "As if i would desire mortals or lowly demons like them."

Dsut raises a brow "Then why are you also in my bed in the morning?"

Nightmare grins "your mortification is delicious. Almost as tasty as Killer's jealousy." Killer glares and Dsut just shakes his skull.

He knocks on the door.

A butler opens and looks at him disapproving "Oh. Can I help you?"

Dust nods as he takes out his phone and searches for the email wiht directions "Yes. I am Dust. Master Erised and I had contact about a small... infestation? that needed clearing?"

The butler frowns as he looks them all over. His sight remaining on the three in actual bodies and not once glancing at the ghosts. "I see. please. come in." they walk into the large hall with many fancy paintings and some vases around. The butler mentions for them to wait there as he goes to get the master of the house.

They wait as Ash does his job and inspects everything around the hall quickly wihtout leaving any traces. he returns and says he doesn't see cameras or any symbols or magical markers. Meaning the demons are fully concentrate on just expending forces. maybe even trying to make a new nest.

That is when a man in a large coat with a fur lining walks down the stairs. his grin wide and arms open "Ah! The exterminator! Dust was it?" he smiles charming as he stops before them. Looking all three of them over.

Dust nods "Mister Erised I assume?" he holds out a hand.

The man nods as he takes his hand and kisses it. Killer postures and glares and Dust mentally takes note that the master had already been taken over by the infection. Shit. okay. Timelimit is very short in that case.

The man lets Dust take his hand back and looks amused when Dust rubs the back of his hand on his hoody.

The man speaks a bit about how he thought there was an infection but it seems to have sorted itself out already. But he hadn't thought to email him quite yet. He apologises and encourages them all to spend the night to rest up. assuring him that they will obviosuly still be paid as he hadn't cancelled.

Dust nods along and they are shown around the mansion before ending up in a visitors wing where the man shows three different bedrooms for them to use. All a bit apart from one another and not one wall shared between the different rooms. He encourages them to get comfortable and wash up before meeting him in the hall when he will show them around the property more.

He leaves them be.

Dust just waves Nightmare nad Killer along to his room where he drops off most of their things and starts searching it.

Killer stretches "So... waste of time? at least you will still get paid."

Nightmare answers before he can "Oh no. the demons are still very much here. they just infected the mansions owner."

Dust nods "They are making this place a nest." he gets some tools prepared before hiding those on his person. "We will all work in groups. Ash will obviously wiht me. Cross? horror? who will stay with Killer and who will stay wiht Nightmare in their own rooms?"

Cross glares a tKiller "as if i am leaving Killer alone with my body. especially with it being at risk of being infected." Horror looks fine with it and floats to be more by Ngihtmare's side.

They all clean up in the bathroom by taken turns before leaving some token clothes in the other rooms. after which they move downstairs to meet with their host who shows them across the property and introduces them to many, many, servants and maids that all tend to his needs. He grins and winks as he says they will tend to any need they may have.

Dust thinks the demon lays it on a little thick. which honestly? not the smartest move as they are here specifically to get rid of the sex demons. why try and play with fire by flirting with them?

Then again.

Dust glances at Ngihtmare who has about five different servants eeying him. Nightmare seems to fall in favour. May be because the others see the more mortal form over the black goop and tentacle form that Dust and the others can see. Dust only managed to see glimps of that form in mirrors but that one looks like a very pretty skeleton with soft purple eyelights.

Killer, or better said Cross, also seems to fall in favour. Which Dust also gets. Cross works out and it shows. Dust knows that is generally well liked and appreciated by others.

Ngihtmare looks amused "As lovely as the pool looks. we did not bring swimwear. I am afraid we will have to decline."

One of the humans talking to him. Maybe one of the daughters of the lord? Grins and mentions how they don't mind skinny dipping. And she and her sisters are more than happy to join in if it makes them more comfortable.

Nightmare just smiles and shakes his skull "It seems rather rude." he gives a partial bow "Thank you for the offer." the demon infected humans look annoyed and sad but accept it.

Dust does notice a few making eyes at him. But as soon as they do Killer is by his side and glaring challenging at the ones looking. Dust doesn't see why Killer is so worried. Dust isn't attractive and so he doubts he will actually become a target. Not to forget Dust doens't have any interest himself. Meaning it is fine.

One very large meal later they split up to go to their own rooms.

Dust is only in there for a moment. Enough to give the others time to go to their rooms before grabbing what he needs and leaving his room again. He has the first incubus or succubus to find.

--

Nightmare stretches as he checks his appearance in the mirror. He does not like that the look in the mirror shows his old form. Even if he is lacking the wings he used to have.

At least there aren't any clear angel marks on him anymore. As much as the fall was painful adn horrible he does appreciate that the fall burned away all marks he had as angel.

He touches his back where his wings used to be. He can almost see his full old form as he stares at himself. the markings of the moon on his skull. the stars as a crown over him. The six wings all snow white aside from the purple tips of the feathers.

At least he is outside of that locked realm now.

In truth Nightmare does not care that Dust is working on something other than getting the relic Ngihtmare asked for. It had been the quickest thing he could think about that would ahve sounded reasonable while Ngihtmare searched for what he actually wanted.

His soul.

His soul is somewhere locked on this earth. Hidden away from him and with him suposedly stuck in hell he would never have been reunited with it and regain all of his powers.

Onc ehe has those. He won't have to worry about being banished again. He will be truly free to go wherever he wants.

but for him to be able to find his soul he needs some of his powers and energy back. Which is why he is staying witht he mortal and his spiritual guests. They are all wells of emotions and so easy sources of power for Nightmare.

Ngihtmare sighs as he turns abck to the room "Just have patiences." he is already one step closer to being free than before. At least Dsut had managed to actually figure out how to summon him instead of fucking up the ritual circle and leaving it useless for him to actually cross over.

Now.

Is it late enough to join the sleeping other? trigger some of those emotions he can eat and absorb as he relaxes back in the company of the warm body-

knocks on his door.

Nightmare frowns as he looks up "Who is there?"

a moment of silence before the door creaks open. It is Dust?

Nightmare frowns as he tilts hsi skull at him "Dust? Is something the matter?"

Dust shrugs as he sidesteps into the room.

Horror frowns "Dust? Are you okay? Did something happen?" he looks around "Where is Ash?"

Dust however ignores horror and walks to his side and leans against him. Nightmare freezes before one tendril pulls Dust a bit closer. He is freezing "Dust?"

Dust mumbles as he pushes clsoer to his side "Cold..."

Ngihtmare frowns. That con't be right. Mortals shouldn't be this cold. Is he getting sick? He hadn't noticed something in the food he ate that could ahve been dangerous. And the demons here shouldn't be able to stela his life force from a distance- unless!

Ngihtamre frowns and rubs his arm "Did one of them get to you?"

Dust shakes his skull and pushes clsoer "Wnat to be close... can i stay?"

Horror frowns "somethign is off... Dust?"

nightmare nods "of course." they will hunt the demons in the morning. He leads Dust back and helps him in first before joining the other. He is still so cold. He rubs the other's arms and back to hopefully get abit of warmth back into the other "I will go grab another blanket."

Dust keeps a tight hold on him "No... we can..." he mutters before looking away "nevermind."

Nightmare can't help but smile. Dust isn't often shy about anything. He just holds the other "What would bring you comfort?" maybe he wants more food? Nightmare had noticed he eats very little and Dust gets defensive when they point it out. Maybe he feels awkward for wanting more?

Dust looks at him and pulls back a bit as he slowly starts to undo his hoody as he mutters "quick way is to share bodyheat..."

Horror hold sup his hands before covering his own sockets "Wait! Dust! I am still here! also not the time?!"

Ngihtmare realises right away were this is going. wait is there an aura at work? to get them more worked up or-

Dust undoes his scarf and drops it to the side.

Ngihtmare doesn't think and throws the fake off his bed and against the wall.

The face goes from shy to hurt for a moment before a knowing grin appears "What is wrong?" the demon stands up striahgt and taps down the dirt of them "You can't be shy now."

Ngihtmare glares as he is off the bed himself and on the other side of the room "you are not dust." why hadn't his tentacle impaled the weaker demon for daring to do that? For invading his space and imply those things?!

The demon grins as they walk over. swinging the hips nad Nightmare raises his tendrils at the ready. The demon does not see his warning as they get right into his personal space with a purr "You know you want to. You can't stop looking at him. Watching him. Anytime anyone makes a comment he is all you see. I can be him. I can act how he would act. You can have him right now."

Nightmare can't believe it but it sounds tempting. His tentacles just hang there. unwilling to attack the image of Dust. The idea of seeing Dust impaled on his tentacles? Dying on them? Even if it isn't really him?

Oh...

Oh no.

This is not the time for this.

The demon grins as they put their arms around his neck "See?" they pull back and Ngihtamre is treated to the image of Dust licking his teeth with a sly grin. Nightmare can feel his magic spark with interest even as he knows it is fake.

It looks so real.

It feels real.

The demon even smells like Dust-

Horror flies through the demona nd the image flickers.

Dust is gone and one of those needy daughters is in view.

The demon is impaled with a tentacle within moments and the human dies.

The body drops and Ngihtmare pants as he and horror are left in the room.

Horror shoots him a glance "so... about those desires for mortals you don't have-"

Ngihtamre glares "shut. up." he grabs his jacket "lets just look for the others." and leaves the room.

--

Killer pouts as he lays in the room alone. He lays on his back dramatically and sighs loudly.

Cross looks at him annoyed "Can you stop that and just go to sleep already?"

Killer glares at him "It is unfair! I finally got control and now I can't even enjoy my nightly cuddle and groping with Dusty? It is rude!" he pouts.

Cross huffs "You shouldn't even do those!"

Killer raises a brow at him "Says the one who also does it."

Cross sputters "That isnt!" he glares as he blushes, heh Cross is rather cute when he blushes, "it isn't my fault you got my body used to sleeping with dust!"

Killer grins "man i wish it was that. I would kill to be allowed to fuck him."

Cross sputters again and hides his face "You know i didn't mean that!"

Killer laughs but stops when the door creaks. He sits up but grins when he spots dust "Dust bunny!" he makes grabby hands "come lay in bed with me!" he wants to hold him. and kiss him. and grope him a little!

Dust looks at him before smilign a bit and walking closer. Fuck dust looks pretty when he smiles. Dust needs to smile more often! Killer will happily be silly if it means dusty smiles more and- huh?

Killer stares for a moment before pouting "Why did you take edge-lord wiht you?" he pouts but gets out of bed. If Dust and Nightmare are here it is most likely to do with the actual job thing so fine.

Dust however just pushes him back on the bed and joins him. Huh!?

Cross makes a very curious highpitched noise "Dust?! Dust! That is my body still!" he is blushing madly.

Killer is ready to tell Cross to shut it when Dust hums "hey cross... mind us joining you?"

Killer immediantly pushes the demon off of him and jumps back to the other side of the bed. Dust frowns at him as Killer takes out a knife "Not a step closer demon. Where is my dusty?" he glances at ngihtmare but nightmare just stands there like a statue and doens't move to attack dust "Nightmare! that isn't dust!"

Nightmare just tilts his skull at him and speaks calmly in that smooth deep voice "Of course it is dust." he is so still. his tendrils are all not even moving.

Killer blinks and cross curses "oh shit." cross flies over and waves his hand in front of nightmare's face but there is no reaction. Cross floats backwards "holy shit. They are both demons! Killer!"

Killer glances at them... and rushes towards the door. He kicks it open and runs outside. Cross close behind.

Killer pants as he rushes to dusts room and kicks in the door again. The room is empty thank fucking god. He checks the last room only to find a dead human on the ground.

Killer pants "okay. okay. the others are fine. no idea where but shit." the demons leave his room and killer starts running again "deos explain why those tendrils were not idling or anything!"

Cross flies by his side and shoots him a look "... wait so you find nightmare hot? since when?"

Killer turns a corner "Not the time!"

--

Dust looks around the corner and frowns. Everythign is way too quiet.

Ash looks around as well and huffs "okay. So. We checked the bedrooms. Nothing that looks like a base or nest... wait did these demons actually nest like monsters or is it more of a metaphor?"

Dust walks down the empty halls as he checks corner after corner "I think it is both. The mansion is the metaphorical nest. but the first in the chain will remain inside the actual nest nest as its underlings do the work to make underlings nad collect like the sex energy?" he probably should have read up on them before this job.

Ash nods "Right! You got the amulet ready?"

Dust nods "Just need to get close enough. Which should be easy enough."

Ash snorts and nods "Just act interested." he looks amsued "I am sure your boyfriends will love to know you flirted with another demon."

Dust glares at his brother "stop calling them my boyfriends."

Ash laughs and Dust rolls his eye lights only to yelp as he almost runs into someone.

Dust glances up and glares "Killer!" well he assumes it is still killer and not cross as killer had had body dips "What are you doing out of bed?!" he hisses as he glances around nervously.

Killer grins at him and smiles "I wanted to be with you!" and he hugs him as the hands wander. Dust doesn't even think as he just hits him on the top of his skull. hard.

Killer yelps and pulls back with a pout.

Dust glares "Where is Cross?" Killer has the nerve to look confused around him but Dust just shakes his skull at him "Nevermind. Stay quiet and don't mess this up or so help me!" he turns and continues on his path.

Ash huffs as Killer "way to lose your buddy in a buddy system. You lot had one job."

Killer just ignores Ash and Ash huffs angerly "Dsut! your boyfriend is ignoring me again!"

Dust hfufs "No my boyfriend."

Killer blinks "wha-"

Dust glares a thim "hush. I am working." and he checks another corner. He feels a hand trail his hip and he just kicks backwards.

A loud groan and Dust shoots Killer an unamused look "No need to be so dramatic. You are a skeleton. you don't even have a dick out at the moment." if killer has summoned his ecto in a place that is infested with sex demons dust would have actually marshed him outside and locked him in the van. Dust will apologise to cross later if he actualyl hurt his body.

Dust takes afew more steps and looks back annoyed "Either keep up or get to a safe space i am not in the mood to drag you along." Killer just groans and Dust rolls his eye lights as he walks away. seems like killer jsut wants to be dramatic.

Ash looks insulted "can't beleive that asshole ignored me the whole time."

Dust shrugs "Killer just is like that sometimes. Any demons?"

Ash shrugs "Not that i noticed wandering."

and they walk deeper into the building. Dust quickly finds the kitchena dn looks around "There should be a wine cellar we can still check." the only places they hadn't checked in the tour and originally sweep fo the place are the cellar, attic and the shed in the garden. But Dust doubts it will be the shed as that would be too far away from the mansion stuff for the demons to easily enjoy.

He searches and grins when he finally finds it. he crouches down and tugs on the panel.

"How is that going?"

Dust jumps and looks back just to glare "Ngihtmare i keep telling you to not sneak up on me!" he glances around but no one is nearby. Dust turns back to open the door to the cellar "You better not have been followed."

Ash huffs "YOu saw the idiot in the hallway on your way or did Killer go back to the room?"

Nightmare hums as he leans closer "I did not see anyone along the way." he looks down into the cellar before looking at Dsut with a grin "Getting some wine?" he looks amused.

Dust just looks unamused at him as he starts climbing down "You know very well what i am doing. stop playing dumb." and he climbs down. He looks around the cellar but just sees rows and rows of bottles. mmh. He walks forwards as he ignores Ngihtmare joining him.

He makes sure to check for anymore trapdoors and pathways downwards but it seems there is only one level to this place. which is gigantic btw.

Dust glares "Honestly who needs this much wine?"

Ash snorts "Maybe they are alcoholics?"

Dust freezes and laughs as he shakes his skull "maybe!" and he snorts.

Nightmare joins his side and puts a hand behind him on the small of his back. euh?

Dust shoots him an unamused look "Ngihtmare."

Ngihtmare smiles back "Dust." and he leans closer "We are all alone."

Ash coughes loudly "excuse you?!"

Nightmare acts as if he didn't hear Ash "No one to interrupt us having a moment. We can get comfortable. Open a wine bottle or two and well." he smiles "just enjoy each other's company."

Dustjust stares at him. Ngihtmare keeps smiling. Dust keeps staring. His smile slwoly drops as Ngihtmare glances to the side before looking back at him with a new smile.

Dust speaks slwoly "You are going. to remove your hand. from my hip. Or lose it." and he smiles back.

Nightmare slowly removes the hand.

Dust huffs and turns towards the exit "You two are acting worse than normal tonight. Honestly. here of all places!"

Ash floats after him "you need to train your not-boyfriends better."

Dust huffs "working on it." and he climbs the ladder.

Dust leaves the cellar and makes his way towards the attic. He meet skiller along the way but killer is still being his annoying self as he tries to grope him and rub against him from behind. Dust obviously hits him in the area of the kidneys and that makes him stop.

Weirdest part is that Dust ahsn't seen either Horror or Cross yet however. maybe those two are actually sticking together? In that case Dust wishes Nightmare nad Killer would stay together and watch each other's backs.

He meets Ngihtmare just as he gets to the cellar and Nightmare smiles a thim but Dust just points behind him "No. You either go meet up wiht Killer and watch each other's backs. Or you are going to look for Horror and stay with the original buddy system."

Ngihtamr elooks confused "Horror?"

Dust sighs "Yes. Horror. YOu know? the person who you were suposed to stick together with?!" Dust just sighs annoyed as Nightmare keeps looking confused. Dust just points down the hallway and glares "Go meet up with either of them. I am fine and hoenstly it is a lot easier without either of you distracting me. Leave." and he climbs the ladder towards the attic before closing the door behind him.

THERE!

Ash sighs "They are so rude tongiht. They keep ignoring me!" he pouts.

Dust shrugs as he inches around the attic. He feels a warm air around them and smells many different scented candles around.

Dust moves slowly as he glances around a corner. There is a whole group od maids and servants all cuddled together. all having this hazed look about them as they cuddle together. Dust searches the group and tries to find who the leader is.

Ash mutters "it is a whole harem. at elast we found the nest. Let me search the area." and he flies off as Dust studies those here.

He slowly takes the amulet out of his scarf and pushes it up one of his sleeves. Now it is just a matter of finding the right target and-

A tap on his shoulder and Dust glares before freezing. ah shit that is the butler.

the butler tilts his head at him "Hello. Is there soemthing we can help you with?"

Dust thinks as he tries to think of an excuse "I... thought i heard something... and got curious... I apologise." he mutters as he tugs deeper into the hood. He can smell the demon's scent now. His mind is starting to ache of all the different energies and magics trying to pull him under a trance.

The butler nods "I do apologise that we bothered you." a hand is slowly nudging him towards the nest. Dust lets it happen.

Dust glances back and sees Ash fly near one of teh nobels. the son it seems. Ash is pointing at him and points to his neck. Dust glances and spots the mark and tiny cut. seems like that is where the original demon shared their blood through. and the son brought it back here and got to work.

Dust lets the butler lead him right into the nest as a very people push themselves against him. smiling at him and rubing his sides.

Dust mutters about feleing flattered but not really being into this thing. making a show of scooting away from the maids offering this while making sure the movement brings him clsoer to the nobel's son.

The butler just bows and leaves to get food and refreshments around as Dust keeps moving strategically until he is right by his target.

The son chuckles and smiles at him. his eyes a pure pink as the demonic energy has taken him over completely "Is there someone you have in mind? We can make your wildest dreams come true?" his form shimmers and Dust blinks in shock as he for a moment looks like Killer. Not jsut killer in cross's body but actual killer. The spirit he met. a moment later he looks like acutal cross. then nightmare, the nightmare he knows not the version they know. and a moment later like horror.

Then the nobel looks like himsefl again as he frowns "I can't seem to be able to settle... your interest seems... divided." he grins "but we are with many... you just need to let us and we will happily bring you bliss and whatever you desire-"

Dust cuts him up by showing the amulet right in his face. The amulet works right away and the pink light leaves his eyes and the people around him all shudder and seem to drop like flies.

Dust is left surrounded by unconcious bodies all in different levels of undressed.

Dust and Ash are quiet.

Ash shoots him a disapproving look "Serioously?! You find them attractive?!" he sounds insulted.

Dust sputters "No?! Maybe? I don't know?! Maybe it is just... I only had contact wiht them?! So that is all the magic could pick up?!" he dind't find them attractive! Right? Like. He never thought any of those kind of things about them!

Sure he found it more annoying than insulting when killer or cross climbed in his bed but that was just because he is used to it! and nightmare. well. nightmare made it obvious he is just in it for the negative emotions! And horror is just a pleasant guy!

Dust crosses his arms "there is nothing there. they are just guys i actually hang out with aside form you. Stupid demons must think because those are the only relationships i have going that it are those type of things."

Ash looks unconvinced but nods "lets just look for the lord and tell him you found the source. get actual payment for this dumpster fire."

Dust couldn't agree more.

--

The lord of the house was horrified to realise what had happened. as those influenced did keep some of their memories from the whole ordeal. He ended up paying them extra for the work and assaults they had to suffer.

Dust was unamused to find otu that SOMEONE had killed the lord's duaghter.

Luckily it was rather easy to blame someone else aside form them on that and wiht the demonic energy having gone around the lord wasn't that interested in a full blown investigation.

The nobel son had almost no memories or the whole thing. in his mind he wasn't even suposed to be home yet but still on a skiing trip with his friends.

Yeah.

It was a fucking disaster.

But Dust got a nice payout and even a large bonus for not giving up on them and still fixing their issue and also some apology money. and hush money to not sure that the family had gotten infected.

The drive back was awkward as Dust shoots the others a look "You guys are more quiet than usual..." he glances forwards again. He hadn't been worried before but maybe something happened after all? "did... are you guys okay? None of them got to you?"

Killer is quick to hug and nuzzle him "of course not! I would never cheat on you love! You are the one i love and the only one i TRULY desire!"

Dust frowns at him "I wasn't.. I didn't mena that! I just... you guys weren't hurt right?" he hadn't... he figured it would have been fine but he hadn't thought there would ahve been that many...

Killer shakes his skull and muttered "a few tried but none of them got to me! I figured it out quickly and just ran around the whole night!" he looks proud of himself. Cross nods his agreement and confirmed that is all that happened.

Horror speaks calmly "a few tried wiht nightmare as well. but none succeed. we got out of the area of them and hid." he glances at nightmare. waiting.

Ngihtmare waves it off "More insulting than anything. them thinking i would even want them." he hasn't looked at them yet.

huh...

Dust files that information away. Seems like they had stuck to the buddy system after all...

Maybe this whole trip had beena bad idea after all...

He shakes his skull.

No. There is nothing there. THe demons must have just confused the casual relationships they have for interested. That must be it. There is no way Dust is actually interested.

No way at all.

[doeshrine]

Any general headcanons for doe; romantic or just regular guy stuff :]

You guys really wanna know MORE!? AHH I have had no one to talk about my beloved Doe with AH! Sorry sorry! I'm done gushing! Genuinely just happy to talk about them.

TW: YANDERE RELATED TOPICS

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

John Doe absolutely goes by he/they pronouns. No ya'll can't take this from me.

Even in their female form which is often referred to as "Jane Doe", I feel like that would just piss them off. I think just bc he changes his presentation doesn't mean you get to misgender them. I think despite presentation changes he'd still be himself and still go by John Doe.

So Regular Guys are pretty much pests in the Uncanny Valley. John Doe's eyes are kinda of explained in House Hunted 2 that he has to physically split his eye in half so he blends in. Personally, I think that's got to be uncomfortable all the time, so at home he does go from two eyes to one eye since he feels comfortable about it.

Many would think he's controlling which I think he can be occasionally, but not on purpose. Due to some of the things he has been through all alone, I think he views himself being controlling as protecting you, and while yeah he's a whole yandere I think he's more than willing to hear you out on making him comfortable while also accommodating your- freewill lol.

He hisses at people.

He stares at you when you sleep. There is no way ya'll convince me otherwise.

He doesn't require sleep but understands that you prefer to snuggle in bed with him at night.

He hates any of your plushies. He thinks if you hug them, you like them more than him- but he won't throw them away. He likes how soft they are.

He stutters a lot when trying to explain his feelings to you. He isn't used to people viewing him as a person over a pest.

Despite being a yandere, he is oddly good at communication if you teach him what it is and how to understand boundaries. He's going to slip up and you gotta understand that when going into the relationship.

He just orders takeout a lot. I have a weird headcanon that Regular Guys can make things from thin air so when he orders food he hands them money he just conjures. ((This man accidentally inflates the economy one eldritch magic dollar at a time.))

When he gets all hyper-realistic, he doesn't acknowledge it as "scary" to him he's sort of blind to it happening. While yes he is physically doing it, he doesn't see it so he just- kinda thinks you're being mean to him if you freak out. I think he's a visual learner so cues such as covering your eyes help him understand you're just uncomfortable, but don't love him any less.

He lets you pet his hair and despite the curls it never knots or tangles. Like it never knots up.

He isn't good with animals. Except crows love him. He likes crows.

He does try to clutter your home- and uh that's gonna require you explaining to him that humans need clean spaces to live.

Did I mention he's jealous? However, he can be really subtle about it. He just glares or waits till you turn to go hyper-realistic on someone.

He has an existential crisis in one breath, but in the next will ask you to pass the popcorn. (he is unwell)

For my FNAF bitches, he would listen to your info dump about the FNAF lore any day of the week. Any kind of hyperfixation or special interest of yours he will listen to you talk about it. He can keep up with however you talk and will never ask you to speed up slow down or stop talking. He just likes you.

He can help with chores, water CANNOT be involved.

In his Lil' Doe form (I HAVE DIBS ON THE NICKNAME >XP), he takes dust baths, but because he isn't human he doesn't have to take traditional showers. He can't too or his form does break down so please take care of him.

Despite him hating you taking showers, he learns to accept it due to the fact you explain it is a health thing. He realizes a human being is much more complex than a Regular Guy physically and requires more care than a dust bath.

He makes sure you eat. If you don't eat he becomes paranoid you will die.

Has he killed people for you? Yep.

Kinda running out of thoughts!

[deviltakesthehindmost]

Rogue saw him from across the tower, laying on the floor with dust and havoc of what had been great buildings. She watched as he tried to stand, only to fail and fall back again, holding his hand against what should be his stomach. Magneto was hurt. Without thinking at all, she averted the lasers shot from the enemy, hearing her comrads fight him as she flew towards the fallen man.

He struggled to breath, had difficulty to keep his eyes open, barely making it as she stood beside him. "Rogue...?"

She quickly went down on her knees. "Magneto, you're hurt... let us go somewhere safe. You can't stand, can you? Let me take you..."

"Non... nonsense. You... leave me here. Go help your friends..." between every word, he coughed. Rogue felt herself tense when he spilled blood.

"Leave you? Are you out of your mind? Look at you, your state, Magneto..." she held his other hand, gloved, as hers were bare, have lost her own gloves sometime between that battle. He squeesed it swifly.

"Silly girl... then go and save yourself. Don't worry about me... leave me here."

"I can't leave you, you are going to die here, old man. Stop being such a pain in the ass." he let out a sort of laugh, blood dripping from the corner of his lips, "this isn't time for this. Spare your breath. Now, come on, let me take you..."

"My dear, leave me to die, then." his words left Rogue open mouth, scandalized. She, that intented to stand him up, stopped immediatelly, staring at him. "you can leave me here, Rogue. It's okay. Even if it means for me to die, It's okay. There is nothing left for me. I lost everything. But it isn't the same for you. You have friends. A family. Remy. Please, save yourself and forget me here, my dear."

Her eyes were filled with tears, they rolled down without her permission. "Are you out of your damn mind? What the fuck are you asking me to do? I'll ignore it because its an weaked old man gibberish, but don't you say it again. Now, come on." she barked at him, Magneto could see how enraged he got her. Once again she tried to hold his shoulders in an attempt to stand him, but his free hand grabbed her wrist.

"You can also see how weak I am right now, I will only get you late. Go girl, just listen to me."

"You know I hate when you tell me that." her grip on his shoulders weakned, she felt his hand caressing her wrist.

"I do. I know how you hate anyone telling you to listen and do as you are told. You never do that. You listen to your heart and the gospel of Miss Jolly Parton."

Rogue felt like really crying that time. He remembers. Why did he? Magneto held out his hand to wipe away the tears that escaped her eyes. Rogue let go of his shoulders to grab each side of his face.

Except that this time Magneto was weak enough not to have his magnetic field protecting him from her powers. And then, when the tip of her fingers touched his skin, she saw.

And she saw everything.

His mother playing with him when he was five. His father flying him around. His father hed him up his shoulders, playing as if he was the knight and his horse. His mother cooking dinner and then telling him a story to sleep. His father making new pieces of jewelery, Max learning from watching him manipulate each piece. His uncle, Erich, giving him woman advice. Happy family moments.

And then, the camps. The corpses. The gold. His family gone. The threats. Magda. His promises to her. They finally free from the nazis. Their marriage. Max staring at her, so happy, as she caressed her belly. The first time he saw Anya. Her laugh. Her cry. Her voive. The last time he saw Anya. The things he thought while trying to find Magda. He giving up. Erik acknowledging his powers. Learning from it. Practicing. Meeting Charles for the first time. Saying goodbye to Charles many times.

Getting to know Wanda and Pietro. Lorna getting into his life. A lover or two. Caos. Destruction. Losses. Wins. Broken hearts. Deception. Happiness. Life. Death. Over and over again.

And the, she saw her. The first time they saw esch other. He choosing her life by the time they were at Savage Land. He making a vow, secret to himself, that she would not suffer as Anya and Magda had before. She would not die because of him. He wouldn't allow anything happening to her, may God punish him before anything even tried. He was always looking at her, from afar. She learned to control her powers, only to unlearn again, but she never gave up. She had lived. She had laughed. She had cried. She had lost. She getting married. She with Remy.

So, she felt what he felt. Pain. Suffering. Hurt so deep ot had reached his soul. Had he had a soul yet? Heartaches. Aches everywhere. But also happiness. Desire. Deception. Broken heart as she said 'yes' to Remy. But also, love. Love so deep, love so intense. Love so great as he saw her so happy laughing in the arms of someone else. Relief. Love that lighted up his body and soul. Love that kept him strong, ready to go on. To build a better world. To bring peace over the mutantkind.

Love he felt for her that kept him pretty much alive.

"I am sorry, Rogue... I couldn't... keep it up. You saw everything, didn't you?" he found some strength to at least push her a bit off of him. She drained some of his energy, not that he had much left. He felt worse than before.

Her eyes were waterful, intense gaze upon his own.

"I did. I saw everything, Erik. Everything I needed to see. And for that, I'm not going to let you die here. You're not dying any time soon. You are staying here. Right here, with me. I need you here, Erik. Please, I cannot let you go. I know its selfish of me to ask more of you, but I do. Please, Erik, stay."

Rogue just bended over and covered his lips with her own. Erik felt her tears mix with his as he closed his eyes, letting she kiss him.

"Anna, I love you. I always have. I would never say 'no' to you." he said when they parted lips, she still close to him, their foreheads near.

"I love you, Erik. I know you are gonna say that, this time, you are going to say no, so I can go save myself. But if ain't coming with me, then I rather lay here with you and wait for death to come get us. There is no life for me if you are not here."

"Very well then, my love."

[avatarmerida]

Dreaming and Watching

Corny little huntlow oneshot about what I think the finale title could mean 💚💛

—

The Collector lured them into a circle, bouncing around the room, delighted to have new play things.

“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” The whimsical voice echoed in glee. “Just imagine the games we can play with these guys, King! We’ve never had players like this before!”

“Yeah! Games! Of course!” Luz laughed nervously. “W-we’re so excited to play games with you!”

“Yippe!” He exclaimed, twirling in the air. “What should we play first? Let’s do something new! What kind of games do you like?”

“We like all kinds of games!” Amity said, trying to steady her voice. “W-we like nice, safe games! I think those are the most fun!”

“Hmmm, no that sounds boring,” the Collector decided, not taking it into consideration very long. “I wanna play make believe! Do you guys have good imaginations?”

“I’ve been told mine is a little too good sometimes,” said Luz quietly.

“You have a human imagination!” The Collector laughed, spinning around her on a bed of stars. “Oh wow! I bet you could think of some fun things!”

“Yeah, I bet I could!” Luz said. “I bet we all could, but I think we also know how things can-.”

“Do you have an imagination?” The Collector turned to Hunter who raised his arm instinctively in front of Gus and Willow.

“Um, I guess so?” He said carefully. “It’s.. not like all this exactly, but I-.”

“Wo-hoo! A grimwalker game! I can’t believe I finally get to play with the grimwalker!” sang the godly child, happy with the answer. “Let’s learn more about you! We never got to talk!”

“Um... okay?” Hunter said cautiously, Willow reached out to hold his hand to assure him she was there as the Collector held his eye contact.

“Hmm so if you have an imagination, is it a fun imagination or a scary one like your scary uncle?” Pondered the child, wanting to make sure he approved what Hunter brought to the imaginary table. “Cause I don’t like scary. Ya know, I’ve always wondered what goes on in your mind! I never got to ask! But why ask when we can just see?”

The Collector quickly spun around Hunter, nearly knocking Willow over in the process, as she refused to let go of his hand. When the star child leapt up he held what appeared to be Golden dust in his arms. He threw it in the air like confetti and as they fell they connected to form a wall of golden glitter. The group look on in confusion as the rest of the room darkened so the focus point could be known. Suddenly, like a movie screen, an image appeared.

It was Hunter, dressed in a Hexside uniform sporting every track color happily walking down the hallway with his arms with books.

“Wait, when did this happen?” Gus asked, knowing this wasn’t the uniform he had worn as a disguise when they first met.

“Is this in the future?” Amity wondered, noting the hair Hunter had was more similar to his current look.

As the Hunter on the screen finished gathering his books, Flapjack appeared beside him and landed on his shoulder. This was clearly not a known timeline.

“That must mean...” started Luz.

“It’s my dream,” realized Hunter. “It’s the dream I always-.” He paused and looked with wide eyes to his side at Willow, still holding his hand and fixated on the screen. He gulped. “Uh-oh.”

Dream Hunter proceeded to walk down the halls of Hexside, his face wore a wide smile and he walked with an obvious confidence he hadn’t known since his Golden Guard days. Every student he passed acknowledged him, offering a wave or friendly hello, clearing showing how welcomed and known he was, how naturally he it, how obvious it was that he was meant to be there.

“Ya know, we really don’t need to see this!” Hunter called as the dream continued to play. “My imagination isn’t very impressive actually so I’m sure there’s something else you’d rather-.”

“Shhhh!” The Collector called down. “I’ve never seen this one befoooore! No spoilers!”

The group didn’t know what the Collector’s intentions were, but they couldn’t deny it was nice seeing Hunter like this, even if it was only in his dreams.

“Hey Hunter!” Gus called, turning the corner to catch up to him

“Oh look! There’s me! There’s me!” Exclaimed the real Gus with excitement, pointing to himself.

“Hey Gus!” Dream Hunter greeted his friend and they did their signature handshake. “You ready for that test next period?”

“‘Course!” Said Gus with ease. “It’s child’s play. Are you ready for Cosmic Con this weekend?”

“Always!” Hunter said, hyped. “We’re definitely gonna win best costume!”

“We always do!” Gus agreed. “I’m gonna go snag us some seats next to each other so we can do some last minute flash cards before the test, don’t be late!”

“I never am!” Hunter called as Gus disappeared into the classroom.

The real Hunter felt the real Gus nudge his ribs. Hunter looked over to him and Gus gave him a wide smile.

“I dunno what you were so nervous about, this is awesome,” whispered Gus. “And you made me taller too, thanks dude.”

“Haha yeah of course,” Hunter replied, turning his attention nervously back to the screen. “It’s not over yet.”

“Hunter! Thank you so much for letting me borrow your history notes!” Said a dream Amity, as Hunter passed her locker. “They really brought up my grade. Your footnotes were especially helpful.”

“Of course! Anytime.” Hunter said with a wide toothy grin. “And if you ever need help studying, I’d be happy to tutor you.”

“Really? That would be so great!” Amity beamed in a way that felt somewhat unnatural, mostly likely because Hunter had no real world source to base this response on. “It’s amazing how you managed to be the top student and still find time for tutoring!”

“What can I say? I’m great at making schedules,” he said with a modest shrug. “You can keep the notes, I’ve got them all memorized.”

He offered dream Amity finger guns as he continued his trek, whistling as he walked utterly content.

On the ground, the real Amity viciously glared at him, daggers in her eyes. “I’ve never gotten below an excellent grade in Isles history,” she whispered to Hunter harshly over Luz’s shoulder.

“Well yeah duh it’s a dream! It’s not real, Blight!” Hunter whispered harshly back.

“It’s your dream, it’s my nightmare.”

“Amity! That’s no way to talk to your tutor!” Willow joined in the harsh whispering. Amity gave her a sour look as the Collector shushed them again.

Hunter was starting to sweat, hoping to Titan that Willow didn’t notice. He also hoped the Collector would be unimpressed with his imagination and move on to something else before they got too far. But the dream continued playing.

“Hey, hermano!” Luz called, running to catch up with him obviously on her way to Amity’s locker. “Mama is making sancocho y tostones for dinner tonight! You’ll be there after flyer derby right?”

“Of course!” He assured with a smile. “But I might be a little late, I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Bring her!” Luz exclaimed as she reached Amity’s locker and he continued walking. “You know she’s invited too!”

“Of course!” He called back, laughing to himself as he turned the corner and finally found his destination.

“Oh! Look, there’s me!” Said Willow excitedly, not noticing the sickly, panicked look that overtook Hunter’s face.

“Heh, ya know maybe we should stop watching before we get too-.”

As Willow fully entered the dreamscape, a sort of rosey haze overtook the scene and time seemed to slow down. She leaned against a locker that was meant to be Hunter’s, clutching her books tightly to her chest. When she spotted him, a wide smile overtook her face and her braids swung to the side in slow motion.

“Hi,” she said sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and biting her lip.

“Hi Captain,” he responded in the same sweet tone, effortlessly leaning against the locker and looking down at her with adoring eyes. “Are you waiting for someone special?”

“Oh, just my boyfriend,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “Maybe you know him?”

“Hmm, yeah I think I do.” Dream Hunter confirmed as he leaned down to press a gentle but obviously familiar kiss onto Willow’s lips. Dream Willow smiled and happily rose up onto her tip toes to kiss him back placing a hand on his cheek to imply she intended to keep him there awhile.

The real Hunter was mortified.

He dared glance to his side where the real Willow stood, saying nothing but fiddling with her braid and he couldn’t tell exactly what she was feeling. Hunter cursed himself for not insisting everyone close their eyes. The rest of the group had begun whispering among themselves, directing their eyes away from the screen as politely as they could, not knowing what else to do as the dream counterparts of their friends had been kissing for awhile now.

“Does uh, anything else happen?” Amity asked gently after a minute. “Is like Belos gonna come and ruin things or...?”

“No this is uh this is it,” said Hunter, inhaling sharply. “This is... this is the rest of the dream.”

“Ooooh.” Said three out of the four onlookers. Willow still said nothing, as a soft red overtook her face.

“And so you have this dream... a lot?” Gus asked. “Wait, is this why you kiss your pillow so-.”

“Okaaaay! I think we can move on now!” sajd Hunter shakily, his face red and sweaty. “Let’s look at someone else’s dream, Huh? Let’s uh let’s invade your privacy and see how you like it!”

“Ugh, dreams about school? And kissing?Ew!” The Collector declared, sticking out his tongue. “That’s no fun! Do you all dream about school and kissing?”

The group mumbled a serious of affirmation seeing that confirming this would save them from Hunters fate and keep their dreams private.

“Ugh, that’s so boring!” groaned the Collector dramatically. “Why would you dream about something you can do in real life? That’s like wasting a dream! We have a loootta work to do here!”

He and King vanished into a cloud of color and sparkles and the gang knew they were safe for now. They all let out a sigh of relief as Hunter offered them a burning glare. They looked at him apologetically before diverting their attention to the ground, Luz said something about making a plan for when the Collector returned and the group quickly jumped on board, happy to have something else to talk about.

“Traitors,” Hunter mumbled under his breath.

“Hey,” came a soft voice beside him, the only person not hiding in the group.

“Uh, hey,” said Hunter, clearing his throat as the realization that having his dream exposed may have also been embarrassing for Willow. Despite that possibility, she had not let go of his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I didn’t know he was gonna do that and I should’ve-.”

“Don’t listen to what the Collector said,” Willow advised with conviction, cutting him off.

“What?”

“About your dreams not being special,” she clarified. “I’ve had dreams like that, about being able to walk down the hallway not feeling scared or worried or like people were staring at me and whispering. That might not seem necessarily exciting or impossible to other people, but that doesn’t mean it is wasn’t a dream worth having. It’s okay to want things to be nice and calm, especially after everything you’ve been though. Sometimes the most simple things seem like the most impossible.”

“Oh, uh thanks,” he said, relieved. “Ya know, it was actually the first dream I’ve had in a while. Before, they were mostly nightmares and there were times when I didn’t dream at all.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having good dreams,” she smiled. “And I’m glad to be a part of one.”

“Yeah?” Hunter chuckled.

“Yeah,” said Willow brightly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I wanna help you get all the things you’ve dreamed of. All of the things.”

Hunter looked down at their linked hands before looking back up to her face as he was met with a playful wink. A familiar rosey frame surrounded Willow again. It wasn’t exclusive to his dreams, just to her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I’ve had dreams very similar to yours. The only difference is that in mine you’re waiting by my locker.”

[windtorn]

@zajevre speaks: What are some of your headcanons re: Sampo's life before the Underworld was sealed off?

i have been SO excited to reply to this!! i just wasn't sure when the right time would be, because ideally, i would like to be at a point where we know a bit more about one mister sampo koski before i start going on about details of his past. my biggest fear for characters like him that have obscure pasts and unpredictable futures is crafting a backstory for him and getting really attached to the idea of it, only for it to be disproven at a later time once more story is revealed to us. however, i do want to still talk about a few key things that i have for my sampo that tie into his past that i've never explicitly stated on this blog yet! according to natasha, she claims that sampo "just appeared one day" as though he was never actually from belobog at all. by saying so, he also appeared on her radar, meaning that its very possible that sampo first made himself known in the underground. i think he used the jobs given to him by natasha to help scope out the world better and when his true colors and talents shined through, thats when he was used for both tasks and intel gathering. which, benefitted him as well in the long run, as you can imagine. sampo's reasons for doing so are not entirely selfless either as natasha says in the story that sampo owes her big-time; which means she might even be the reason he's down in the underground in the first place at all, or she's been doing all kinds of favors for him on the side to accumulate such a debt. i also use this to help justify that sampo is a masked fool theory, which i'm quite partial to! sampo's ending scene in the story of jarilo-vi has him communicating with some entity, asking if they liked his performance on the planet as a tagalong now and again in trailblazer's story which implies the entity's omniscience in knowing what sampo is doing at any given time. sampo isn't one to answer to authority, as seen by his constant meddling with the silvermane guards and amused reluctance towards natasha about doing certain things he is asked of. he seems pleased to be acknowledged by whoever was being transmitted on the screens though, making me think it's either the aeon aha themselves or another entity of high ranking amongst the fools on the other end of the screen that he seeks the approval of. as a masked fool, sampo is an absolute husk of a person. he is jaded towards people and to the point of life, to people who love so carefree and wear their hearts on their sleeves. he doesn't understand people like that, people who can be selfless and unabashedly vulnerable to a world where their existence is as significant as a speck of dust to the grander schemes of the universe. but you wouldn't know that, because he hides it very well. he hides behind masks of exaggerated emotion, ones that he doesn't particularly understand or feel himself but has learned to replicate appropriately in social circumstance. or willingly inappropriately. sampo fully embraces the ideals of masked fools and pursues pleasure and laughter in excess, its the only thing he really understands and the only thing that makes him feel that rush of being alive. sampo is not completely heartless though! as we see him wanting to intervene when bronya is in trouble when she first came down to the underworld, as well as hook's line where she says that he plays games with her sometimes. sampo would never admit to himself that he feels and emotes like other people do though, not genuinely, he would internally argue that he's not like other people. but that's not entirely true, he does feel some things like empathy too, like towards those underworld kids that can also indulge in laughter like an adult can. who dont have a grander scope of morality and can do harmful, wicked things like he can but shouldn't strive to become like someone he is. sampo koski won't accept that he is, at his core, human too. a human that feels more than emptiness sometimes, like empathy and envy for what he cannot ever be and cannot ever have.

[riftwalker-limbro]

Feel free to ignore this if it comes out with too many repeats of what was discussed last night, but i think it's fun to sometimes ask characters about each other instead of asking the all-knowing author

So! Deimos triad. What would each of them say the other two's best and worst traits are?

jdhfbjhg oh. oh dear. incredible way to send six asks at once /positive. let's GO

verica about vince

bad: one stark difference between vince and jay is that vince tends to want to hide himself away (ignore his own needs etc) entirely if he feels it might be even the littlest bit warranted. this does Not mesh well with verica's own worries about being Slightly Too Convincing Sometimes. she gets him to work on it, and he does get better about it, it's just something that really spooks her at the start

good: on the flip side of this, he's now in a position where he has the potential to make Big Differences in the lives of others, and he acts accordingly - he pushes himself to help, sometimes a bit too far. given her own history, this is something she really appreciates, because she has been in this same boat for longer, and then they can go sit in their boat together and not try to stop one another about it

secret third option (funny): it is still incredibly funny to watch him get stuck in Contrarian Mode and argue himself into corners that she knows that He Knows he can't get out of anymore

---

verica about pule

good: call it what you want - clown, entertainer, joker, distraction-on-demand - but he is damn good at keeping up group morale.

bad: he gets stuck in his own head, keeps blaming himself for stuff that's so far in the past it's all but dust in the wind for everyone else, far beyond the point of being reasonable. she sees that it's a powerful driving force for him but he shouldn't have to suffer so hard for things that he can never change anymore

---

pule about vince

bad: a trait that persisted throughout the Confetti Event is definitely that vince is Bad at Taking Care of Himself and this manifests in many little ways. pule is doubly not okay with this because of Gestures At Their History. (similar to verica's opinion on him, but where she focuses on where he does it Actively, pule ultimately lived with jay for Longer and Knows his unconscious habits & how they came to be slightly better, and he's not happy about seeing them somehow translated into vince)

good: once he learns to communicate a bit better, he does express his affection for both pule and verica MUCH better and more than before - a slightly-worse-than-near-death experience will do that to you. it's nice to know that someone likes you but doubly so to hear and see that reaffirmed often. also his willingness to vehemently argue about details with pule at a second's notice for shits and giggles

---

pule about verica

bad: he sees her stick to a plan to a fault, and he, well, finds fault with it, because the plans aren't always perfect. he has developed various tactics to get her to adjust course without breaking her motivation down all the way, which does usually work, because she does acknowledge this flaw. it's a kind of verbal sparring on a level that most other people don't take notice of unless they're paying CLOSE attention to see something in her demeanour change when he applies these tactics

good: she is VERY driven. it is Easy to go along on missions when she's also there, because she has enough motivation for the entire squad.

---

vince about pule

good: pule is fucking Dedicated to his friends/family/unit/whatever. he is loyal as all hell. vince enjoys knowing that he can rely on him like that if there's ever something

bad: vince gets the feeling that sometimes pule doesn't take certain things seriously enough. on a mission or during shenanigans that's all perfectly fine - he means more pule's own feelings and what's going on in his own head. he seems quick to try and dismiss it when he's not feeling great about something. vince has Been There and it Isn't Fun Stop It

---

vince about verica

good: he's still incredibly hung up on how smart he thinks she is and it's adorable. i keep trying to vibecheck him harder for this but that's all that comes through for "best quality" without repeating myself or stating the obvious

bad: he sees her readiness to pick fights when there's disagreements/(thinly veiled) insults being thrown around, and as a person with a healthy ego (after the, uh. initial period), he feels her on that, but as an academic who has both had to 1. keep his own annoyance in check around surprisingly dense students and 2. strategically schmooze for funding, he feels like There Are Better Ways Than Physically Butting Heads. and this was fine Before, but now that they're actively fighting so many battles on so many fronts with such diverse allies, she should probably... not be on the forefront of the diplomatic talks. it worked fine during the rebellion, when everyone was angry and Being Angry worked to lead all of that, but in a war of attrition like this it no longer has a place

[undertale-data]

[Image Description: an Undertale chat box with the name "PAPYRUS", in all caps and Papyrus font, in its center. On its left is a talksprite of Papyrus sweating anxiously, and on its right is a talksprite of Papyrus wearing sunglasses. End I.D.]

The Great Papyrus is the most popular Undertale character among the fans surveyed here. 19.6% of responders chose him as their favorite. That’s a total of 519 fans! (Wowie!!)

Not all Papyrus fans are unified on his characterization, however. The most obvious divide was between fans who call him a “cinnamon roll” or “precious baby,” and those who find these takes infantilizing. A lot of people like the friendliness and optimism of this character, while others recognize this but highlight his maturity too. Fans who worry about his infantilization seem most concerned with how he can be portrayed as naive or dumb by the fandom. A portion of fans specifically mentioned this naivety as a point in his favor, though the marginally more popular take seems to be that he is not naive, regardless of how he first appears. This fandom divide seems to relate to Papyrus’s autistic or ADHD coding. Many fans relate to him as ADHD and autistic themselves.

Fans also related to him in his desire for friends. Many responders think of him as a friend and a comfort character, so at least in one way his wish has been fulfilled.

The phone calls were a major reason that fans said they felt connected to Papyrus. Thanks to these calls, he has the most dialogue of any character in the game. His humor and dialogue were often highlighted as favorite qualities.

While fans may disagree on some aspects of Papyrus’s personality, it is clear that his fans all value his optimism and kindness. His fans do not see his kindness as weakness. Many talked about the complexity of his character and the strength it took for him to show mercy to the player character, even when the player doesn’t show it in return. He believes in himself, and he believes in you! This kindness and trust has inspired his fans to be kinder themselves.

Papyrus fans were also drawn to his mysteriousness. Several responses pointed out that he is a more mysterious character than Sans, who is also often loved for his mystery. As shown in the phone calls, Papyrus will put on fronts depending on who he is around, making it even more difficult for fans to uncover his secrets. Some people in other sections of the survey found this frustrating, but Papyrus fans tend to see it as another point in his favor.

Among the greatest proportion of responses were from fans who couldn’t choose a favorite trait, or who just love everything about Papyrus. While these responses may be less lengthy, they are still as full of love as the essay-length answers. These responses tended to say phrases like “cool dude” or “Papyrus my beloved” or “THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

(You were overcome by writing about such a handsome skeleton. He understands.)

Highlights: (under the cut)

Honestly Papyrus just feels like joy. Funny, incredibly kind, with a few mysteries/weird quirks about him that are fun to ponder over. I especially love how he often acts proud and self aggrandizing without putting others down, and in fact sometimes uses that to lift his friends up alongside him. You don't see this take on proud characters often.

Papyrus is strong. Strong in body, but also morally strong. He knows what is right, what it means to be merciful and kind, even in the face of danger or death. Some think him naive. And yet, even facing death and seeing the dust of those he knew, he did not falter or turn from his ideals of mercy and change for the better.

BECAUSE HE IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS

His optimism and his overall personality is endearing! You're always having fun with him :D

He's meeting all of my standards.

Papyrus is very under appreciated, and overlooked, and it's very frustrating to me—he's a complex character but people treat him like he's a baby!!! I like him because he's kind of goofy with how he talks and he's just very charming and kind.

He's weirder than Sans, and it wasn't acknowledged for years because he acts oblivious and dumb, even when he's clearly not. Quite frankly, I find it iconic. Also, his entire personality helps a lot.

I'm ND, trans, and projecting!

OK SO he's just a friendly guy!! A dude who likes cooking for his friends!! We love a hype man!! Also smart as hell and I feel like fanon majorly overlooks this. Making good, fun puzzles is HARD and setting up a flamethrower to go off wirelessly is complicated. Like even if that bridge puzzle didn't go off the components were complicated. Love that cool dude!!!!

I heavily relate to Papyrus as a character and consider him my favorite fictional character of all time. He is a very well-written and thought out character with several quirks and layers in his personality. It is headcanoned by some (myself included) that Papyrus may possibly be on the Autism Spectrum due to his nature, his interactions with others, and overall how he displays himself to the world we see.

I could talk about Papyrus forever, and you have made a grave mistake in allowing me to do so. He is a charming, strong spirited, well intentioned, complex character that is often wildly misinterpreted, and I think originally this is why I was drawn to him. He is presented as one thing and in fact acts as one thing (though not the same way as presented by fandom), and in reality when you look closer than you are meant to he is not, in fact, any of these things. It was intriguing to me. Secondly, and rather contradictorily, another thing that drew me to him is that he is very true to himself, when it comes to idiosyncrasies and moral values. It's true that he does not offer much in the way of personal backstory and feelings, but he offers very much indeed in the way of personality. What a guy! He wears silly crop tops and bright colors, he speaks in a manner specific to him that sometimes doesn't make sense, he cares about something or someone and goes whole hog with it -- he's passionate, damn it! I love him and his weirdo, goofy self with all my heart. He cares about other people to a fault, too. He would sacrifice everything to help someone, and his belief in the potential of both others and himself is indomitable. When faced with the responsibility of a kingdom, his friends gone, his brother lying to him, and himself all alone without a reliable support system, he recognized what he was facing and still bucked up and became determined to get through it. When faced with a murderous, over powerful enemy, someone who had killed many of his friends and fellow monsters, someone who had repeatedly been rude and borderline aggressive and showed no signs of stopping, he saw that they were having difficulty and offered to help and to care for them, and didn't regret his decision or change his opinion on what they needed and their potential for change, even when quite literally killed by them a moment after. Even in death, even directly after a betrayal like that, he never stops believing that they can get better, that anyone can be a good person if they want to be. That's important, I think; that concept of giving people the chances they need to grow and to change. I have a tattoo of that moment on my thigh, it's that important to me. I guess I really like Papyrus because even though he is fictional, watching him out there makes it easy to believe in people, in our inherent goodness and desire to love each other. He makes it easy to see that we can change, that no matter what you've done in the past or who you currently are, no one is inherently a bad person, and no one is incapable of learning how to be a good one. It is just a step by step process that we have to take day by day.

[Image Description: A wordcloud shaped like Papyrus. His gloves, boots, and cape are red; his Battle Body is blue, yellow, and white; and his bones are white. Some of the most visible words are: Kind, Love, Good, Cool, Relate, Funny, Friend, Mystery, and Papyrus. These are the words that responders mentioned most in their essays about him. End I.D.]

Read the full list of responses shared with permission by clicking this link! (The document is 25 pages long, so you may want to make a copy to prevent lagging.)

[tootiredmotel]

a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.

[cocktailjjrs]

BNHA 360

While reading for the chapter for first time - “Why are they so close to him, one touch man will turn them into dust if Monoma blinks even for a quarter of a second”

But No! They planned this, they wanted to engage Shigaraki in close combat. That’s what this whole thing is about. Like they wanted to close in on him, understand his fighting pattern more and then device a strategy to put a stop to him.

I believe this was a four-step plan for the team handling Shigaraki (they only have him there separated from others) - 

Drag the league out of their hiding and separate them (Done – they created the whole floating arena for that)

Erase his decay quirk to prevent an instant loss (Also done – Monoma and Aizawa are making sure the quirk is not in action)

To make Shigaraki physically move and engage in close combat to understand a pattern, learn insights and his weakness (Going on)

And lastly, with help of OFA finish of the whole thing before AFO gets the chance to completely take over Shigaraki’s body

But things went down the hill somewhere between step one and two as we know, Deku got wrapped to the island because of Toga and even though erasure is in work, Shigaraki started to grow those gross hands/fingers.

They still went ahead with their plan though; First scamming around all over arena to making it look like they are running away from him, but I think they were trying to understand the damage caused by Shigaraki and understanding their ruined surrounding.

Second, they tried to get close to him and engage in hand-to-hand combat. We see Edgeshot, Miriko, Bakugo and Suneater trying to get closer to him, while Jeanist and Nejire provided support with long range attack.

Even after this, the only one who could reach even a bit closer to Shigaraki was Bakugo; and he was able to land a solid blow at that. 

Ngl, when in Ch 359 Aizawa yelled “Someone please save Bakugo”; I was mad for few seconds, I felt insulted that they are making out him to be some weakling in need of a save. I felt like – C’mon, He is a Hero! He can handle himself just fine.

But the next second it stuck me, that he is still a 16–17-year-old, he is just a kid who was forced to grow up way faster than normal kids (all the UA kids were). That he still has many things to learn, he still has a lot of scope to introspect and grow, that he is still needs to graduate from UA and be the number 1 hero.

Now, I know the situation seems bleak, but here me out.

While beating him up, Shigaraki (or AFO’s conscious whoever was talking to him) actually pressed on his sensitive nerve, his inferiority complex to Deku. Blatantly stating they never had any interest in him. It also seemed, when his ultimate move did not finish off Shigaraki, Bakugo himself seemed down for a second there.

I won’t call his attack to be a failure because that one sure did a number on Shigaraki, he lost his right eye. At first, I did not think much about it but it soon clicked, Erasure is still at work, meaning not only his Decay is out of the picture, but also that Super Regeneration is not working or any of the AFO’s quirks. That means, any damage to his body now, will be permanent till Erasure is still on. And it seemed Shigaraki knew it, so it busted Bakugo’s Support gear, knowing full well that two or three more hits and things will actually start to go down for him. (I won’t say they would kill him; we saw his fight with Star and Stripe. Shigaraki is like that cockroach that just won’t die)

But that’s it. Those few seconds were the only time Bakugo was down with himself.

I won’t say Bakugo is the only one who has gone through immense personality development. But we all can agree, no one better than Bakugo himself knows how much he is lacking, he has acknowledged that fact and accepted that there are a few things that needs group efforts, he has come a long way from his pre-UA self.

The Bakugo we now see is the one who has matured a lot. He knows things are difficult, he knew that even before going into this battle, right now he has it in front of him. But has anything ever stopped him? Has Katsuki ever given up just because things got difficult?

No. And even if Shigaraki was beating the shit out of him, while hurling all that crap at him; Bakugo was watching.

Bakugo is known for his hot-headedness, for his charging into battles. At face value it may seems just rash and childish behaviour; but time and again he has proved to be above all that. He knows what strategies are, he knows to not let his guard down in a fight, he knows every attack and counter attack should be carefully analysed to come to an optimal solution, he knows to consider his surrounding while still going all out.

So, while Shigaraki is throwing him around and kicking him, Bakugo is gathering information. His eyes open, he is looking, analysing every small detail.  This then all resulted into –

While Jeanist is trying to comfort him and patch him up, Bakugo’s eyes are glued to the battle in front of him. He has figured something out.

Now two things, Bakugo might be muttering to himself about all the data he gathered or he might be telling Jeanist what he found out.

If we consider he is muttering to himself, then there is a possibility that there are a few words that are lost to us. Meaning, there are Feints present in the way Shigaraki fights which are somehow related to his right side and there is something wrong with his fingers. It also means, if they successfully discard these feints, the Hero’s may be able to gain an advantage in this situation without OFA.

The other possibility, Bakugo telling Jeanist what he found out. That his Right Finger are doing some feint moments, the true objective lies somewhere else.

I personally think, the first one to be highly likely. Shigaraki’s left hand was badly injured during his fight with Redestro, if I’m not wrong the same was also badly injured in the Jaku fight (his whole body was burned though, but two of his left hand fingers seem to be cut off) and his fight with Star and Stripe he was again reduced almost to skeleton and he was only using his right hand. His right hand is the main deal here, left hand fingers are all just distractions, used to keep anyone from reaching his main body.

The thing I wanna see now is what is Bakugo going to do. He isn’t just going to sit around and let others continue the fight.

I have three things in mind that seems likely to happen:

1.       Bakugo is going to wreak havoc in the coming chapter

Because this isn’t the face of a man that would just sit around waiting for help. He has some strategy cooking up, his quirk seems to have upgraded as the sweat around his face is showing sparks. Because, this man is not finished yet, he will win, no matter what.

Though I must admit, that will be only till AFO takes over. OFA needs to be there to get rid of AFO.

 2.       Deku is not coming to join this battle anytime soon

(Ch 357)

If we consider that at this point in story, all that is now going on is happening simultaneously, then last time we saw Deku he was flying over the sea to the arena to fight Shigaraki. 

But as it happens, it seems something is coming towards Deku. It’s highly unlikely to be Nomu as we saw them get wrapped to other places. So, these could either be

A group of Tartarus escapees, who like lady Nagant are in some binding vow with AFO

Or a group of Villains from overseas. Heroes aren’t the only one who can call in for reinforcement from other countries, there ae villains in those countries too who could join the fight. And I think its them, because these look-like airplanes (similar to what Star and Stripe brought with her. Maybe AFO called these just to deal with Deku)

Or some factors we completely disragerded till now

So, all in all, Deku is going to have to deal with these guys first making him even more delayed to reach Shigaraki. So, by the time he wraps up, I think he is going to reach just in time to deal with AFO.

3.       This panel from Ch 357 scared me then, it’s still scaring me now

I think he going to self-destruct and take a large chunk of Hero’s down with him. He said this body was done for, so he has something planned. We saw Eri in a panel before this, taking us back to the fact that AFO still has the quirk erasing bullets. 

But it’ll more than just a bullet – to me it seems like he has worked on it and will have advanced with its function, making it close to Eri’s own quirk but only amplified. Like after awakening her quirk Eri erased her father from existence only; so, it’ll be something twisted like erasing everyone who comes in contact with even a small shard of his.

P.S. - The big three were just awesome last chapter, i just hope all of them make it out of this alive. Also, where is Miriko?? 

Before we get answers to these, we are going to have others fights. 

Let me know what you guys think!

Toodles!!!

[itsclydebitches]

If Mantle was initially settled because it was protected from Grimm due to the cold, then at some point Grimm 'evolved' to survive Solitas. Fine, you've covered how the show didn't do the work to explain that. However, what was the timeline for the wall being built to begin with? If Grimm are a recent addition to Solitas, did Ironwood oversee construction of the wall in the first place? If the wall's been there for some time, is he dealing with crumbling infrastructure left by a predecessor?

Honestly, I can’t imagine any version of the timeline where Ironwood didn’t inherit an Atlas with the walls already built. We know that the grimm have always been a threat to humanity and that walls, for obvious reasons, help keep them out. Atlas was involved in a world-wide conflict that lasted ten years. That happened 80 years ago and Ironwood is… in his mid-40’s? I mean, what major capital goes through all that—the climate, the grimm, the war—and only in the last 10-20-ish years decides that a wall around the populace might be a good idea? With the 10-20 years coming from the fact that in those 40'ish years Ironwood needed to grow up, graduate as a Huntsmen, and work his way up the military ladder, becoming influential enough to make those sorts of calls in the first place. If Ironwood had built the wall, it likely only would have happened in the last decade or so; it would be a pretty big event that our characters should mention—which hasn't happened. But more importantly, from a worldbuilding standpoint it makes the entire Atlas Kingdom look remarkably stupid. Unless the story were to establish some reason why the wall couldn’t be built until recently (lack of resources), or why the people didn’t want it built until now (cultural differences) that’s just… weird.

Really, I think the problem lies in RWBY forgetting its own lore. Meaning, in the supplementary material (WoR and the mobile game, I think) we learn precisely why the people would settle in an area so inhospitable that anyone without aura—meaning, the vast majority of the population—will die the second the heat goes out… because the cold also impacts the grimm. It’s a tradeoff. This is deadly for us, but it’s bad for the monsters too, so provided we make use of dust the tradeoff is worth it. The problem is that RWBY never incorporated this idea into the story proper, so we’re left with a populace that’s being attacked by grimm with the same ferocity as everywhere else in Remnant and whose survival in the arctic is put in jeopardy with one password from the evil billionaire. Fans recognize that this is ridiculous, but it’s a whole lot less fun to settle on the conclusion, “Wow, a fave show of mine is really badly written.” So instead there’s a scramble for Watsonian explanations in the form of "I can't believe Ironwood didn't use these weirdly ambiguous resources to fix a wall" and “I can’t believe Ironwood didn’t change the access codes in case a scientist everyone believed was dead came back to single-handedly endanger an entire Kingdom on the immortal witch’s orders. What an idiot.” It’s easier to saddle a single character with all the problems—especially when the show itself has gone out of its way to do that canonically—rather than acknowledge that RWBY hasn’t done the work to make this make sense, let alone help guide us in regards to determining responsibility. The worldbuilding straight up does not support the complex, moral questions that RWBY introduced. We don't know enough and what we do know is spread across multiple sources, many contradicting each other.

So yeah, I think Ironwood inherited a failing, racially driven infrastructure highly influenced by those like Jacques and, as we saw throughout Volume 7, he was consciously choosing to put his time, energy, and resources into stopping Salem—the global threat. It's the same logic we saw in regards to using Atlas as a lifeboat: it doesn't matter if going up in the air is a bad situation, it's better than Salem destroying the world by snagging these Relics; it doesn't matter if Mantle isn't in the best shape right now, it's better than Salem killing us all. Yeah, it's bad if you have a broken arm, but maybe treat the stab wound that's likely to kill you first. Our (significantly) knowledgeable cast is furious at Ironwood for leaving Mantle's arm broken because he's chosen to staunch the Salem bleeding before worrying about anything else.

At the same time though, Ironwood is also consciously recalling his forces and keeping dust in the hands of his people in case of an attack—the local threat. Looking at Volumes 4-7 as a whole, he’s aiming for some kind of balance here—stop the biggest threat to all of humanity while also trying to ensure that his own people aren’t left vulnerable—yet he’s criticized for, inevitably, letting something else languish. If he’s protecting his people, he’s not straightforwardly helping the rest of the world. If he helps the rest of the world, he risks another Fall of Beacon where his forces do more harm than good. If he lifts the embargo, Salem will get her hands on more dust (an early volume problem I think a lot of fans forget when discussing the Atlas arc), but if he keeps it, the economy suffers. If he puts resources towards bringing the people together to defeat Salem (Amity), that also means the infrastructure continues to suffer. If he stays for Mantle, he risks everyone in the Kingdom dying; if he leaves, he risks Mantle acting as that sacrifice. None of this is inherently bad writing. It is, in fact, very good to put your characters into tough situations like this. The problems instead lie in everything else we’ve discussed + that shoddy worldbuilding. The story wants to put weight on Ironwood’s ‘rock, meet hard place’ decisions—and then later paint each one as simplistically wrong—but that’s hard to do when the contexts of these situations don’t add up. Why in the world would we criticize Ironwood for fixing Amity rather than fixing the wall when, clearly, communication tower resources can not be the same as wall resources? Why in the world would we criticize Ironwood for recalling his troops when they were hacked in the last battle and all the heroes are disgusted by them on the street—it sounds like no one wants them. Why in the world would we criticize Ironwood alone for these problems when we’ve been introduced to a council who works with him and a good chunk of Volume 7 revolves around a corrupt election that, notably, Ironwood is fighting against? Why in the world would we criticize Ironwood alone for these problems when many of them stem from the heroes keeping information from him? RWBY’s problems lie not in the ideas, but the worldbuilding and the quick-change swerves in morality. Conflicts surrounding Atlas need a clear context to rest on, yet we lack most of the basic information like when this wall was built, why it failed, and why every problem can supposedly be solved by the same truckload of undefined stuff. RWBY didn't do the work to explain any of this, so we're left indefinitely with these questions. Atlas has fallen now. I can't imagine the rest of the series will be concerned with the problems in an arc we've now left behind.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Peace & Quiet (End)

You read that right. This is the last drabble in the series (official ending. I may still end up writing more but this is where the overall story ends.)

Yes this means I will also start the actual nightmare that is editing this monster (170K words people. Help me.) to eventually post the full and complete version to my AO3 (which you guys will be updated on)

Either way. @spotaus You ready friend? (don't worry. if i even end wriitng more drabbles i will keep adding you)

But yeah.

Once more to learn it off

First Drabble Prev Drabble

No edit or beta as always. One more. to finish it off completely.

*-----------------------------------------------*

The sun is already setting by the time they finally get back home.

Nightmare yawns as he leans heavily against Dust as he watches Killer open the door.

Killer sighs and grins “Home sweet home.” And he walks straight towards the closet to search through it for something. Probably clothes.

Cross nods and turns towards Dust and him and smiles “I will get a bath running for him. You still got him?”

Dust hums in acknowledgement. Nightmare isn’t too surprised. The meeting went on for forever and Nightmare is also tired. He has no doubt that Dust is even more tired as he actually had to interact with everyone and made sure people left Nightmare alone.

Cross shoots them another smile before going inside.

Horror cleans up the things they took along as he goes to warm up some food. All preprepared for this because they all assumed it would run late.

Dust walks inside and joins Nightmare in the kitchen as he waits for Cross to shout the bath is ready.

Nightmare watches as Dsut leans back in the chair and breaths deeply. He looks so tired.

Nightmare feels bad about having wanted to do this whole thing. Sure it made sense to reintroduce him and cement his whole standing and what happened… but it tired his dads out so much… He is being a bother again.

He pushes his skull under Dust’s and mutters “Sorry.”

Dust hums confused and looks at him. waiting.

Nightmare looks down and tugs on the hoody. It was Dust’s old hoody, something about making sure he looked obviously tinier and younger by having him wear that. Nightmare doesn’t care too much. It is comfy and it feels and smells familiar. He loves it.

Ngihtamre manages to find his words “You are all tired… because of the meeting… sorry.”

Dust blinks and snorts as he nuzzles his skull “Not your fault.” And just holds him.

But… they had to have the meeting because of him. Doesn’t that automatically make it his fault?

A few heavier steps and Nightmare feels Horror’s hand pat his skull. Horror speaks softly “We needed to do this meeting either way. No matter the extra reasons. It was the right thing to do concerning what happened with you and Dream. The fact we are tired is to blame on those in the meeting who would not stop asking stupid questions.” Horror sighs with a smile as Dust snorts and nods his agreement.

Nightmare blinks and leans against Dust. He should have known they wouldn’t blame him. They never do. Yet it still surprises him.

Cross walks into the room and smiles “Bath is ready.”

Nightmare frowns at them “Don’t you guys want to bath first?” He can wait a bit longer. The itch on his spine isn’t that bad yet.

Dust just looks unimpressed at him before getting up. He shoots Cross a small smile before Dust takes Nightmare to the bathroom.

Nightmare can already smell the scents of his favourite soaps and feels himself relax a bit. Dust takes care to help him out of the clothes and Nightmare can see a small pile of clean clothes by the side. Seems like that is what Killer had been looking for.

Dust hums as he looks at his spine.

Nightmare waits patiently as his feet are already allowed in the water and he hums happily at how warm the water is.

Dust nuzzles his skull “Going to remove the bandage.”

Nightmare nods as he waits. It is still uncomfortable but it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to anymore. He knows that Dust will be careful and try his best to make it hurt as little as possible and that he will make it better. So Nightmare stays still and lets him remove the bandages.

Dust hums and softly checks his spine “It looks irritated… Why didn’t you say anything?”

Nightmare blinks. Huh… had it been that bad? Nightmare looks down and sees that the whole of his spine is inflamed and red looking “oh…”

Dust’s hands are gentle as he checks everything.

Nightmare tries to think back but ends up just not being able to remember if it really hurt badly “I didn’t… Notice? It is strange but it just doesn’t hurt as much anymore… any discomfort is just easy to ignore?”

Dust frowns “you don’t need to ignore your pain Nightmare.” the hands help him into the water and Nightmare’s breath hitches as he feels his spine act up for a moment before it settling back in bearable again.

Nightmare hums and leans into the hands helping him clean-up “I didn’t mean to? It just kinda… it doesn’t hurt that bad anymore so I guess I just accidentally ignore it? Other stuff was more important today and I focused on that instead.” He didn’t mean to ignore his discomfort. It just happened because stuff was more important today and-

Dust hugs his skull and mutters “Your comfort is more important than some stupid meeting. We only really needed to show our faces. Next time, just tell us even if it gets slightly uncomfortable okay?”

Nightmare blinks and nods as he leans back.

Dust hums and helps him cleanup before helping him out of the water again. He dries him off gently. Dust takes the time to take care of Nightmare’s spine. Nightmare can feel him put on some healing cream on it before putting on clean and new bandages. After that Dust helps him into his warm and soft pyjamas.

Dust picks him up and take shim back to the kitchen where some food is waiting for him already. Nightmare yawns as he just leans against Dust. He honestly doesn’t even want to eat. He just wants to lay in bed together with his dads and watch a movie. Nightmare doesn’t even care which movie. As long as he can lay between them and feel safe.

Still he eats. Horror gets sad when he can’t eat so Nightmare doesn’t like to skip meals.

He rubs his sockets as Killer picks him up. Nightmare looks at him confused before looking around. He likes Killer holding him too. But hadn’t Dust been doing that?

Killer notices and grins “Dust is getting cleaned up and ready for bed himself.”

Nightmare takes a moment and sees that Killer is in his own sleeping wear and he takes him to the nest.

Nightmare hums and leans against Killer as Killer moves blankets and pillows around before sitting down with him. Nightmare turns fully towards Killer and just pushes as close as he can. Killer grins as he lays in the pillows with him “There. All comfy. Ready to sleep?”

Nightmare shakes his skull even as he yawns “No…” another yawn “Want everyone here.”

Killer nods “and they will get here quickly.” A soft nuzzle to his skull.

Nightmare hums as he leans against Killer. He is starting to fall asleep but forces himself to stay awake.

Killer just keeps holding him as he lays back with him.

Some movement and a soft voice “Is he asleep?” it is Cross!

Nightmare turns and goes to answer but yawns instead.

Cross looks guilty as he smiles “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” Cross rubs his skull.

Nightmare hums as he leans into the touch “Not asleep.” He yawns again “Wanted to wait.” Wait for them all to be here. Snuggle together and… and…. Something else but Nightmare isn’t sure anymore.

Cross nods as he lays nearby “Like this? This better?”

Nightmare nods and a moment later Dust and Horror join them too. They say something about having to clean up and lcok up but Nightmare doesn’t care much.

They are all here.

Nightmare snuggles close to someone, Horror he thinks, and closes his sockets fully. Finally. Time to sleep.

His dads are all there and all have contact with him in some way. Nightmare can feel and hear them all near and knows that no one will hurt him when they are nearby.

Even if Nightmare isn’t sure on everything he is sure of that.

Safe and sound.

And so he goes to sleep. Tomorrow will be another day in their lives with their farm and homework. Things will go back to normal.

Their normal. In their home.

*-----------------------------------------------*

And that was it. For now. The story has ended. The group has their home. They tied up their lose ends. and Nightmare trusts and lvoes his four dads more than anything.

They are happy. And that is the perfect ending for them.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Be Here | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! You ever just take a year to write a part two? Well, thanks to @hellotvshowtrash 's writing challenge I have finally written the second part to Come Back. I straight up just sat down and wrote this in less then two hours. The muses have blessed me and said Elijah Mikaelson reunion fic or nothing. I am not stupid-- I will not deny them. Shoutout to Lottie (@imdreamingwiththestars) for making me miss these boys <3

Description: Elijah was dead and now he's not, stand-alone sequel to Come Back

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Elijah

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: rushed writing, mentions of depression

Word count: 2k

Tags: Soft Angst and then Fluff

It’s been two years— well, almost two years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. But who’s counting, right? Certainly not you. Certainly you wouldn’t be stupid enough to honestly believe that he’s coming back. Even after the promises. His promises and their promises— it doesn’t matter. Both mean nothing. You don’t blame them but you would be naive to believe them.

Still, you keep count— just in case. There’s no harm in that, right? Two years— one year, eight months, and seventeen days— without Elijah Mikaelson. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, your throat closing like it’s been only a few hours. Maybe there’s a little bit of harm.

You press your face harder into the sweater curled under your head. It doesn’t smell like him anymore— there’s no cinnamon left, none of his at least. None of the sugary vanilla that used to encase her like a NOLA bakery. Only traces of Kol’s nutty cinnamon blend— he must’ve snuck in here last night at some point. Both him and Klaus occasionally do. You don’t blame them for that either— you don’t have a monopoly on missing Elijah Mikaelson.

Slipping out of his sheets is harder than you would admit if either of the brothers were to ask you. It’s not like they’re warm or anything— they’re just as ice cold as the rest of the room— but they’re his and the thought of going the rest of the day without them just doesn’t appeal to you the way it should. Voices flit up the stairs but you don’t strain hard enough to make out the words. You could if you wanted to but there’s no point— you don’t care anymore. Not about trivial things— not about talking. You only do it when you have to these days.

The trek across the room to the door takes what feels like an hour. In reality you’re sure it’s only seconds but, well, this time you aren’t counting so who knows— maybe it did take you an hour. Sun is filtering past the curtains now, painting a stripe through the dim room and across the oak floor. An hour. You pause beside his dresser, debating going in to dig out a new hoodie. You haven’t taken a new one in about three months but your stash is running sparse. It’s not a hard decision, pushing past the dresser and leaving it untouched— you’ll need it more later.

In the hallway things feel different. You can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. There’s a slight shift in the atmosphere and a little more of a kick to the energy in the compound. It feels alive— like everything is humming. The hair on the back of your neck raises instinctively, the answer on your tongue but not quite forming. It’s probably nothing— you haven’t slept in two weeks. It’s probably exhaustion. You’re a vampire but you’re not impervious to sleep deprivation. Time marches on whether or not you acknowledge it— whether or not you reject it. You’ve learned that the hard way.

It’s why you keep padding towards your room, feet soft on the hardwood, trying desperately not to draw the attention of whoever’s in the kitchen. The electric charge in the air follows you to your bedroom, increasing ten-fold when you cross the threshold and halting your advance. You haven’t been in here in weeks but for some reason it feels like everything’s been disturbed. Not in a noticeable way— there’s still a thin layer of dust over everything— but something’s off. Your stomach rolls as you glance around at your things, the pressure building as your neck tingles. You could honestly just fucking scream.

Still, you push further, braving the sudden unknown of your room with a burst of stamina you haven’t felt in months. Breaching the doorway feels like being sucked into a new planet, one unrecognizable and dangerous. Thankfully you don’t need oxygen because you’re pretty sure there’s none in your room. Your chest is tight— heavy— and you make quick work of changing into a new pair of shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s been hanging untouched in your closet for at least a year. You haven’t been afraid of it, per say, but you certainly weren’t ready to wear it. Today feels like the day though.

It isn’t until you go to sit on the bed, not bothering to even try to balance as you put your socks on, that you’re finally rewarded with a clue that you may not be as crazy as you feel. It’s warm— the bed is warm. Not the whole bed— because yes, you do reach out to check— only the part you happen to sit on. It’s warm like someone was just sitting here minutes ago and you spring up as quickly as you went down, closing your eyes and pulling in as much air from the room as possible. You’re getting to the bottom of this now. When the air reaches your nose some of the pieces begin to click together—

Cinnamon.

Only a faint trace of it but still your chest jumps— is it— no don’t be stupid it couldn’t be. You thump a hand against your chest to clear the feeling as you force your legs to carry you out the door. You realize too late that you only have one sock, your bare foot pressing against the cold wood of the staircase, but you’re too far and too determined to go back now. You’ve got to find Kol and you have a pretty good idea you know where he is.

Sugar wafts to your nose as you press towards the kitchen, mixed with a touch of citrus— Klaus must’ve picked up your favourite pastries. As you reach the door voices flit stronger to your ears. You can make out Klaus’ hushed tone but not his words, followed by a comment from Kol that you can’t decipher. Good, they’re both here.

The kitchen is by far the brightest room you’ve ventured into in months, the countertops gleaming so bright you have to squint, throwing a hand over your brows. When you blink, clearing the glare however, you notice something peculiar— no pastries. You could have sworn you just smelled them—

“Love, you’re awake.” There’s a whoosh of air followed by two hands on your face and the lingering scent of honey shampoo.

You smile weakly up at Klaus, shrugging. “Was never really asleep.”

Another pair of hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a nutmeg chest, lips finding your head. “That’s not healthy, darling. How long’s it been now?”

Shrugging again— this time at Kol— you let your eyes wander the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the heady sugar scent. “Two weeks, give or take.”

You can’t locate the source— but, then again, you can’t see past Klaus’s worried eyes. You watch as he tosses a look behind your head, presumably at Kol. When you roll your head back though you find that his brother’s brown eyes aren’t meeting his stare but are also tilted behind him. You chest jumps again, the air thickening, energy coursing through you— what the hell is going on?

You push away from the boys, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to the source of whatever’s got the compound disrupted this morning. Opening your mouth, you go to make a snarky remark— or to scream, you aren’t sure— but when you finally see it all that comes out is a soundless gush of air. All words are lost as your eyes drag over the back of a familiar brunette head, passing down a muscled back and over sweatpants you haven’t seen worn in years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. It’s all you can do to poke your tongue out of your mouth, sweeping it over your dry mouth and tasting sugar.

There’s just no way.

You take a step backwards, back slamming into one of the brothers but unable to tear your eyes away from the figure long enough to see who. “What— what’s happening?”

Always the noble one, Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t keep you waiting, whirling on his feet, a box of pancake mix in his hands. “Couldn’t have waited ten more minutes, baby?”

You’re not alive but for a moment it feels like your heart stops as you drink in the man in front of you. Brown hair, brown eyes, stubble on his jaw the same as the day he died. Your vision clouds over, tears tugging at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to blink them away. You’re not risking clearing a vision this clear.

You take a tentative step forward, afraid that if you move too quickly the mirage might evaporate. “Elijah?”

“Hey baby.”

If your dead heart stopped upon seeing his silhouette then it restarts when he passes you the familiar, crooked smile that you fell in love with all those decades ago— the same one you’ve been longing for since the day he left you.

Fuck tiptoeing.

You’re across the room in record time, your hair flying behind you as you launch yourself into his arms, praying to whoever will listen that your body hits something solid. There’s a muted thud followed by his arms wrapping around you— his physical, cinnamon sugar scented arms. At his reciprocated touch you finally let yourself sob. You can’t remember the last time you actually let yourself cry but you are now and it’s finally out of relief.

Your hands attack his face, palms deranged and fingers haphazardly dragging across his neck and jaw and scalp. Your shoulders are shaking, tears hot against your face and pooling over your lips but you refuse to look away from his gaze. He looks just as wild as you feel, brown eyes ticking rapidly over your features. It’s all you can do to smash your mouth against his, crying through the kiss before laughing because he still tastes like your Elijah. Like cinnamon buns and sweetness.

“This can’t be real— you’re dead. I saw you die!” You sob against his lips.

He presses his mouth back just as hard, hands digging against your skin and clawing at his band t-shirt. You reciprocate by squeezing your thighs harder around his hips, pressing your body as close to his as you can get. It’s not enough but you feel like you can finally breathe again when you crush your arms around his shoulders.

“I know—” he finally murmurs into your mouth— “but I’m here. Right here.”

You pull away, hands still carding through his soft hair, pulling at the damp strands. “‘Lijah you were dead— I— I thought you weren’t coming—”

Your chest feels heavy again but he’s quick to move, cutting your destructive train of thought with his cinnamon and honey lips. You don’t mind— he could do anything right now and you would still cling to him like your life depends on it. Kissing him has been at the top of your list for two years now— you’re not going to refuse. One of his hands lowers, hooking around your thigh and tugging you higher up his body. You’re not the only one whose life depends on staying as connected as possible.

“It’s real— I’m real. I promised you, baby. I’m back— I promise I’m back.”

Just like that you’re back to giggling against his mouth, arms anchored behind his neck. Soon your head is falling back, the euphoria rolling through your body like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You would never wish for him— for any of them— to leave you again but this feeling makes every gruelling day worth it. He’s back. As if to prove it his lips find your neck, kissing over your skin feverishly.

After a few moments of soaking in the attention of the resurrected man you finally pull yourself together enough to attempt a true conversation like a respectable woman.

“What was it like to die?”

He chuckles against your skin, shaking his head, his lips never leaving you. “I’ll tell you later— there are a few matters we need to sort out first baby, starting with getting you out of that fucking t-shirt. It’s been too long.”

Who are you kidding— he’s right and you hum your agreement, lips searching for his, desperate once more—

“One year, eight months, and seventeen days too long.”

[greensaplinggrace]

honestly THANK YOU for saying all that abt baghra bc i thought i was going crazy from not liking her??? bc i haven't read the books and only summaries of them on wiki and like. i dunno why ppl like her actually even in the show bc this guy, her son, is like "i wanna make the world better for us grisha" and she's just like "no." even tho he sees that she's MAKING HERSELF SICK from suppressing her powers! she's literally like in bed coughing in the flashback yet seem much healthier at the little palace. also like after everything, after her disapproval, after the fold, after centuries of waiting for the sun summoner.. he never abandons her. he makes sure she's cares for. he doesn't harm her. and i have to wonder if baghra has ever thanks him for that, for just not leaving her alone. like i dunno how im suppose ro believe aleks is a heartless villain when he still cares for his abusive mom like this. like has baghra even told her she loved him (honestly she reminds me of a classic emotionally unavailable asian parent but maybe that's just me). also im wondering if baghra ever told aleks that he had an aunt.. bc like.. now that u bring up her isolating him it's like hmmmm...

not at me being like alina... why do u trust the bitter old woman who literally beats u with a stick and verbally abuses u every chance she gets.. just bc she showed a bad painting... like.. pls use two braincells to see that who u figured out as his mother... is also using his protection..

like baghra could've upped and left with alina. but no. she stayed bc she knew she was safe under aleks's protection.

alsoim just impressed that after his first friend tried to drown him and harvest his bones... he didn't go into hiding???? he still wanted to make a safe heaven for grisha!!! HE STILL WANTED TO PROTECT GRISHA EVEN AFTER HIS GRISHA FRIEND TRIED TO KILL HIM FOR HIS FUCKEN BONES. like... this is the guy im suppose to believe is the villain???

honestly i feel like part of the reason why LB's plotlines seem so bad and disconnected (and sometimes outright racist but that's another rant) and why darkles is disproportionately more violent and villainous in the later books is bc she didn't expect the darkling to be so popular and wanted to stick with her guns of making him the villain. but also wanted the money from aleks's popularity. but like you can't have ur cake and eat it too.

Well thank you for sending this ask! It's very sweet and very passionate. I'm glad you liked my post! I didn't put as much thought into it as some of my others lol. I kind of just talked. But it was nice to be able to finally talk about some of the problems I have with both her character and the fandom/author's perception of her.

HERE is the post this is referring to, in case anyone's wondering.

👀👀 You've hit the nail on the head for so many things, here!

Baghra is extremely emotionally unavailable, basically to the point of neglect. She's also verbally and physically abusive, traits which I doubt were only reserved for her students and not her son. Baghra claims she would do anything to protect him, but I've known a lot of parents who have that mindset and yet still harm their children because they think it's "good for them".

Aleksander stays at Baghra's side for years, and even when they're opposing each other she's never too far away from him. Idk if you've read the books but he does eventually hurt her. And as much as I don't like Baghra, I think his actions were horrid. But I'm also honestly kind of surprised it took him so long lmao.

Yeah I mean, in terms of isolation, let's not forget that she never wanted to introduce him to his father, either. Baghra's sense of eternity clouds a lot of her judgments on relationships, which means she views most people as dust and therefore teaches her son to as well. The problem with that is that he's a growing child, and he needs those social and emotional attachments for healthy development.

I would bet quite a bit of money that Baghra has either never told him she loves him or she has told him so few times it's practically forgettable.

And everything becomes more complicated because so many of Baghra's actions are understandable because of her life and her history, but the impacts they have on the people around her, especially Aleksander, are permanently damaging. And the fact that that's never gone over in critical depth in the books or how it's glossed over in fandom is just very disconcerting. Like, acknowledging Baghra's failings doesn't mean we're excusing Aleksander's actions, it just means we're holding Baghra liable for her own. Which the fandom should be doing, considering she's the epitome of an abusive parental figure.

And Alina trusting Baghra over Aleksander is even more confusing! Especially in the show!! This is the woman who beat her and abused her and tortured her friends when they tiny little children (and who probably still does so now that they're adults). This is the woman who mocks you and harasses you and insults you on a regular basis. Why does Baghra revealing she's Aleksander's mother make Alina change her mind?! Like fuck, I'd just feel bad for Aleksander. No wonder he kept it a secret, I would too! And that painting is enough evidence?! Really?! A random painting shown to you by this abusive mentor that's been making your life hell. That's what you're going to betray your new lover over?

The friends trying to harvest his bones thing is a good point, too. I think Aleksander, especially show Aleksander, is incredibly idealistic. I think he cares too much for others - those he's deemed worth his care (a sentiment given to him by Baghra). Despite everything she's tried to teach him about hiding and abandoning others and never caring and never doing anything to help or reach out or connect with people, Aleksander still continues to do so. It's likely because he never got it from Baghra growing up, and so is desperate for those emotional needs to be fulfilled elsewhere.

His turning point, when Baghra tells him it was understandable that those kids tried to kill him because the world is such a hard place for them - that's crucial. And the reason it's possible as a motivating factor is because of that idealism and that desire to help and that desire to be everything his mother isn't. Baghra tells him this trauma he just experienced was because of the oppression of his people, and instead of following her lead and accepting that, going into hiding and abandoning everybody to their misery, he goes I can do something about that. I can make it so this never happens again. Which is usually how trauma like that combines with one's core personality traits at a young age, especially when there's none of the essential support systems in place to aid in recovery (ie, the role Baghra should have been filling but wasn't, because she decided to exacerbate the problem instead).

And yeah, one of my biggest problems with the ham-fisted "beating you over the head with a sledgehammer of evil deeds" look-how-bad-this-character-is! portrayal of the Darkling in the later books comes from the impression I get that Bardugo doesn't trust her readers. She's so desperate to have us hate this character and think him an irredeemable villain, not trusting any of her readers to engage critically with a morally gray character, that it feels quite a bit like condescending fucking bullshit. Which ew, I know how to engage with literature, thanks.

She really does seem to look down on a large part of her fandom, and imo, the infantilization of the female characters in her books seems to carry over to her impression of most of her female readers as well. Which is why the Darkling's character arc gets fucking destroyed. But he's still a good cash grab, of course, so she'll shake his dead corpse in front of the fandom for money every time she wants something from it.

Also! Another reason I think her plotlines feel disconnected (I'm sorry Bardugo I respect you as a person, but shit-) is because the writing in SaB is just bad. I mean, nevermind the absolutely nauseating implications of the way she portrays the Grisha as a persecuted group who's situation is never actually fully addressed as it should be, considering Grisha rights is what her main villain is fighting for (imo for a series called the Grishaverse, LB seems to be pretty anti Grisha), but her characters and story alone are just wrong for each other. They don't fit together.

And the ending is one of the main pieces of evidence in that regard! You can’t say the ending where Alina isn’t Grisha anymore is her “going back to where she started” when she’s always been Grisha. She just didn’t know she was Grisha because she denied that part of herself that she was born with.

Alina is reluctant to move forward or change, she struggles with adapting, and she’s very set on the things she’s grown attached to throughout her life. She also has some latent prejudices against the Grisha, and so denies the possibility of being Grisha for those reasons as well.

Alina’s lack of powers in the beginning of her life because she willfully doesn’t learn about them to avoid change versus her lack of powers at the end of the book when she’s accepted them and then they’re stripped away from her by outer forces are two entirely separate circumstances. You can’t make a parallel about lost powers and lack of Grisha status bringing her back to the start when she was always Grisha and she always had powers and she simply refused to come to terms with it because of personal reasons.

The first situation is an internal conflict that indicates a story about growth and a journey of self acceptance. Denying herself the opportunity to learn about her heritage and to find acceptance with a group of people like her because she’s tied to the past and because of the way she was raised is the setup for a narrative that tackles unlearning prejudice and learning how to connect with a part of her identity that was denied her and learning how to grow independent and self assured. It’s the setup for a different story entirely. The second situation is an external conflict that centers around the ‘corrupting influence of power’... for some reason.

In a world where Grisha do not have social, political, or economic power and they are hunted, centering your heroine’s journey of self acceptance and growth around an external conflict about... the corrupting influence of power (in a group of people that don’t actually have any power?!) just doesn’t work. It is literally impossible to connect the two stories Bardugo is trying to push in Shadow and Bone without seriously damaging the main character’s developmental arc.

The only way a narrative like this would work, claiming that she has gone back to where she started, is either a) if the Grisha weren’t actually a persecuted group and instead were apart of the upper class, or b) if the one bad connection between the two instances is acknowledged - that Alina denied a part of herself crucial to self acceptance and growing up, and that losing her powers at the end has also denied her. It is a tragedy, not a happy ending.

Alina suffered because she didn’t use her powers. She grew sick. It was bad for her. This was not a resistance to 'the corruption of power and the burden of greed', it was her suffering because she couldn’t fully accept herself.

Framing the ending as a return to the beginning can’t be done if you don’t address how bad the beginning was for your main character. You brought her back to a bad point in her life. You regressed her. This should be a low point in her arc. It should be a problem that’s solved so she can finish developing organically or it should be something that is acknowledged as a tragedy in it’s own right, for the future the world (the writing) denied her.

This is a ramble and it makes no sense and I’m really sorry, but my point is that Bardugo put the wrong characters in the wrong story. The character arc required for organic development doesn’t match the story and intended message at all. The narrative doesn’t fit the cast. She's got two clashing stories attempting to work in tandem and she ends up with both conflicting messages that fans still can’t comprehend in her writing and an ending that doesn’t suit her main character to such an impossible degree that it’s almost laughable.

So yeah, there's a few reasons why I think the story and the plot feels so bad and disconnected. I hope you don't mind me making this answer so long! 😅 I was not expecting to write this much.

[appleflavoredkitkats]

gonna talk about quackity and las nevadas real quick— fair warning, this is not cohesive as i am rambling this from the top of my head, but i wanted to relay my thoughts on them because i just. love them so much.

also this basically turned into “what is quackity's character arc and why is the las nevadas crew important to quackity's arc”

all people mentioned are of their dsmp counterparts unless said otherwise /dsmp /rp

tw: mentions of torture, violence

quackity is not a character who is only rooted in maliciousness. i can acknowledge that he is, scarily, one of the best manipulators of the smp, but his intentions and the reason las nevadas was made are not rooted in maliciousness. before the election results, we know that wilbur and quackity had a discussion about peace and change in the smp. quackity's reason for running was because he wanted to be the one to bring a positive shift in the smp. he wanted to garner a sense of belongingness in the smp because he felt excluded by l'manberg. upon hearing this, wilbur slaps him with the real truth about the dsmp— it is not controlled by pacifism. it can never be controlled by pacifism. if quackity wanted to make an impact, he needed power, and to acquire power, he needed to be violent.

which is why he does the things he does right now. his torturing of dream, his manipulation of his friends, him creating a gambling ground in general— he does that all to contribute to his plans of being revered. the main question we can garner from all this is: what's his end goal? i've been pondering about this for months on end now, and i still can't pinpoint what he wants to do with his power once he acquires it. all we can conclude is that he still wants to impact the smp one way or another, and that he is immensely determined to execute his plan perfectly. a guess of mine is that he still genuinely wants to bring peace in this server, to create a conflict so loud that it ends all conflicts. but to be honest, i could also see his end goal being less of “make the smp better” and more of a “let me guarantee the safety of myself and my loved ones” because at the beginning, we knew las nevadas was supposed to be made for him and the rest of el rapids, but we all know what happened. so now, he has different people in his crew that might substitute el rapids as other potential family he can care about? who knows! i do think it has to be related to the concept of belongingness somehow, because that theme is prevalent in both possibilities. also, something something, the plan's perfect execution may also become his legacy, something something. you get the idea.

which is actually funny because i remember that cc!quackity himself has expressed his own purpose in life in his alt streams, and it's quite the opposite of his own character's. he's stated numerous times that he intends to just… enjoy life. he was gifted one life to spent, and he'll just have fun with it. do what makes him happy. no legacies, no everlasting impacts on society— just his own happiness and wellbeing. and to me, i think cc!quackity is trying to make this ideology something his character eventually acquires in the future. the state of the dream smp shouldn't fall into the hands of quackity. it was never his responsibility to fix in the first place. he could have just left, he could have just enjoyed his life, but quackity seems so fixated in the idea of a possible shift in the smp. he wants to make as much noise as possible.

which is also funny because like, he doesn't have to! and interestingly enough, charlie mentions it. charlie has been continuously mentioning that everyone turns into dust anyway. charlie has seen lots of violent events throughout history, but he always seems to suggest that it's pointless because again, we all turn to dust. that belief is such a foil to quackity's belief of leaving a stamp on the smp because charlie suggests that it does not matter. quackity can make as much noise as possible yet still turn into the same kind of dust that silent people will turn into as well. it does not. matter. he should not be this fixated on his legacy and impact when it's not only going to be potentially meaningless, but it has also been hurting many other people as well.

but how will he eventually learn to believe in this ideology?

well, knowing that charlie was the first one to bring it up, i fully believe the las nevadas crew will be responsible for quackity's potential healing arc. las nevadas' crew is interesting because it feels like an anti-found-family family that fits in perfectly with actual found families. they were definitely manipulated into thinking joining las nevadas was a life or death situation, but what's interesting is that the same dreadful aura from las nevadas' third episode does not… continue on for the rest of the las nevadas streams? quite frankly, their streams have been pretty pleasant. of course, quackity still prioritizes his country over his people, but that doesn't mean he does not care about them at all. the fact that he's willing to recruit them and possibly share the legacy once his plans go smoothly shows that he does care about them to an extent.

but even if quackity manipulated them into joining, the crew has not been controlled by quackity in any other way afterwards. in fact, it seems like these people have been actually finding something purposeful and fulfilling from their stay there. like, fundy, foolish, charlie, and purpled genuinely seem like they're enjoying their time with one another. they don't degrade each other, they don't infantilize or hurt or insult each other; they actually seem like they enjoy each other's presence. sure, quackity promised them a legacy, but they themselves have kind of found a bigger purpose outside of legacy in las nevadas: belongingness, togetherness.

and i want quackity to realize that. because we already know that cc!quackity's probably gonna apply his own life philosophy into his character, but there needs to be a reason as to why he gets to that point. at the moment, those who craved for legacies in las nevadas seems to be slowly just… enjoying their time there because of the people they meet. the people they begin caring for. i 100% bet that later on, these people will stop caring about their legacy and begin caring for las nevadas for the people there that gave them purpose outside of making as much noise as possible.

and i want quackity to be one of those people to lets go of the concept of legacies and impacts. i bet that las nevadas will experience hell back to back, but he will have his crew members to fight alongside him everyday. he thinks that they're there because he manipulated them enough, but he slowly realizes that that's not the case— maybe at a point where las nevadas is at its lowest, quackity tells them that they can leave, that this was not the las nevadas he promised them. quackity tells them that there's no way they can ever gain proper legacies from it, but to his surprise, the crew stays. not because they still think las nevadas can provide them a proper legacy, but because they found a better purpose from las nevadas outside of legacies and impacts— and to them, quackity brought them together, and they're thankful for it. quackity delivered this opportunity for them, and now, the rest of the crew is giving quackity his own opportunity to find his own purpose. not in las nevadas in particular, but in them. he does not need to change the entire state of the smp to gain a sense of belongingness like he wanted during the elections— he can just find it through them, and that should be enough for him.

[anxious2dsimp]

Reki, Miya and langa from sk8 ☁️♀

Hi anon! Thank you for requesting Sk8, I've been waiting for this one, turn it up >:) Since you didn't specify theme or format I'm just gonna write a random fluffy drabble for each!

Random Fluffy Drables! | Reki, Langa, & Platonic!Miya

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Pairings: Reki x Reader, Langa x Reader, Platonic!Miya & Reader

Flavor: Fluff ☁️

Reader: Fem!Reader (she/her)

Format: Drabbles

Warnings: None!

A/N: I decided Miya's is gonna be platonic bc I feel comfortable writting about him that way, sorry!

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Reki

If there's two things that are consistent about Reki is that he loves skateboarding more than anything and he's great at it. How you managed to change those two main things about the redhead not even a minute into meeting him is truly baffling. It was a sunny afternoon when Reki was aimlessly riding his skateboard around town, his eyes drifting around the relatively busy store-filled street. That was, until you came out of one of the buildings a couple stores ahead, because once he spotted you he couldn't look away. You were putting on your headphones, brushing the hair out of your face to reveal the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, features graced by the warm sunlight as your eyes were lost somewhere among the clouds. A million thoughts raced through his mind; would it be creepy to approach you, there's no way you'd notice him, maybe he could impress you with a cool trick? Unfortunately for him he had nearly caught up to you and couldn't make up his mind, but suddenly he snapped out of his thoughts by a thunk and a force propelling him forward. He was so busy looking at you he didn't notice the uneven sidewalk, his front wheels getting stuck and sending him flying only to land in front of you. "Oh my god, are you ok?" You asked worriedly as you crouched down before the stranger that had been catapulted by his board. "I- uh- hi?" Reki sounded more panicked than you were, and mentally kicked himself for being such an idiot, but the sound of your stiffled laugh made him stop that line of thought in an instant. "Hi, please tell me you're ok, or else I should really stop laughing," you commented wittily as you offered him your hand. "No, it's fine! I'm fine, you can keep laughing, it sounds so pretty you're making me feel better," Reki confessed as he took your hand and brought himself up, dusting his jeans before his cheeks begun burning a darker shade of red when he lifted his gaze to meet your flustered face. Did he really just say that outloud? He must have hit his head hard then. "Thanks! I'm (y/n), and you are?" God, you're smile was making his heart race more than S. "Reki," he said, probably a little to quickly, but at that point he didn't care. "Well, Reki, you should probably be more careful when you're skating," you teased, silently hoping your conversation didn't end there and he was as intrigued in you as you were in him. Little did you know that he would try his best to get to see you again, because in that brief interaction, you had transformed his world and what he thought he knew.

Langa

"Langa! you were amazing out there," you exclaimed breathily as you jumped into your friend's arms after him winning the S race. The pale boy squeezed you in response and thanked you, his smile still ecstatic from all the adrenaline. "We've been friends for so long, I can't believe this is the first race you ever invite me to," you said once he put you down, only half joking. "To be fair, S is kind of dangerous, but it surprises me too," Langa said truthfully, but before you could reply you heard some new voices behind you. "Who's the new slime?" "Langa brought a girl, he's learning from me!" "Well this is unprecedented." You whirled around to find a black-haired middle schooler, and three rather unique looking adults. Not really knowing what to reply, you were lucky your other friend Reki made his way past them and introduced you in the process. "This is (y/n), Langa and I's friend from school," the redhead said proudly. After they introduced themselves, you made some small talk with the group, but had to excuse yourself to reply to a phonecall. "So, Snow, what's up with you two?" Joe asked as he wiggled his brows. "What do you mean?" Langa replied, clueless as ever as everyone else stared in disbelief. "We mean that this is the first person you invite to S, and whenever you look at her your eyes sparkle like you're talking about skateboarding," Cherry attempted to clarify. "Or how during the race you pulverized the guy who was hitting on her earlier," Shadow chimed in once he saw Langa was still not getting it. "They're asking if you like her bro," Reki said with a rowdy smile as Langa turned totally red at the suggestion. "Wha- I care for her as a friend! Right? That's what friends do?" Langa didn't know why he was getting defensive, but he felt that his heart was gonna explode if they didn't change the subject. "Well, your slime buddy is getting hit on again," Miya said, slightly amused as he pointed with his head. Langa's body moved before he could even tell, and next thing he knew he was standing beside you as he silently glared at the guy he won against. "I'm sorry," the guy who was now clearly uncomfortable said as he lifted his arms in fake surrender, "I should have known you two were together." You just became a flustered mess, watching the guy leave as you turned to face your friend, stoic as ever but with a faint pink dusting his cheeks. "What was that about?" You asked. "You looked uncomfortable," he stated simply as he grabbed your arm, softly dragging you back to the group, who were all smiling knowingly. "Also, I wouldn't oppose to it y'know," his voice was barely above a whisper, but you were sure you heard him right, the sound of your heartbeat filling your ears immediately after. That night definitely was important for your relationship, just not in the "friendly" way you both initially thought.

Miya

Miya's gaze fell to the floor as his name was called to come up front for the freestyle skateboarding competition he was at. You had promised to come see him and support him like the good friend you were, but had yet to show up, leading the boy grit his teeth to bear the dissapointment that weighed him down. 'Of course (y/n) wouldn't show up, she's another slime, I should have known I'm stuck in a single player game,' Miya thought to himself as he walked up to the center of the area, readjusting his helmet while turning to face the judges. He was so caught up in his head that he didn't notice the commotion going on in the corner, where amongst the crowd whispered complains were heard followed by a seemingly neverending loop of apologies. Out of breath and hoping you weren't late you finally managed to squeeze past the group to end up in the front row before the area, seeing that much to your delight Miya had yet to start. However, your content smile at having made it in time despite your setbacks quickly vanished at the sight of his frown. Did he think you had forgotten? "MIYA! GOOD LUCK!" You yelled over the loudspeaker music and monotone sound of conversation from the crowd, the blackette's eyes instantly lighting up at the familiar voice. His eyes finally landed on you, and you could visibly tell he was holding back from grinning too hard as he gave you a small nod of acknowledgement; I'm glad you made it. After a great routine, he got off the judging area and headed to the water fountains, where you two had previously scheduled to meet. "I'm so sorry I was late, I had some problems that held me back, but I'm glad I made it on time! You were great out there," you rambled to your friend as he took a swig from his water bottle. "It's whatever," he replied contently, yet you knew something was up with the way his eyes avoided yours. "Miya, I can tell something's bothering you, y'know." After a hesitant glance, the boy sighed and finally looked you in the eye. "Sorry, it's just... I was scared you were gonna ditch me," he confessed, adding in a voice barely above a whisper, "like my old friends." Your heart broke at his words; though he kept up this unbothered facade, he did care for all of this stuff on the inside. "I would never, Miya. You're a great friend, and you deserve nothing less from me," you reassured him, giving him a tight hug that he barely reciprocated, but you knew him well enough to see that he appreciated it from the look in his eyes. "You better keep your word, or else you'd go down from being a friend-slime to a regular one," he joked, earning a lighthearted chuckle from both of you as the sadness cleared from the air around you two.

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[shelivesinhermind]

Threads of Fate Part 11

Read on AO3 here.

Emma spent her days busy stepping into her duties as queen, and her nights wrapped in the arms of the king. Everyday brought new challenges, issues, and matters to deal with: from appointing ealdormen to tax documents, or securing plans for a new bridge, there was always something on the agenda. Even with all the duties she was still learning and work to be done, her and Canute always seemed to find stolen moments together.

However, it was not until the sky turned dark, leaving the orange glow of torches, that they found each other wholly. She felt she would never grow tired of the feel of him beneath her, holding her, consuming her.

Emma lay with her head nestled on his broad chest, the dusting of hair there like her own fur blanket. Their breaths still deep and quick from their passionate coupling. As Canute drew lazy circles on her back, she did not think she could ever be more content.

The fires embers still warmed the room, giving a faint luminescence. Though, Emma knew Canute needed no light to trace every contour of her body. Just like he knew her mind so well.

The king sought her advice on many various issues, and she gave him her most honest and well-intentioned answers. She knew she was not from this time, had no idea beyond what she had read in books, and yet she felt it came easy, naturally. Her modern mind gave an edge to issues that Canute seemed to be happy to entertain.

Which is why it did not surprise her when he asked, “What do you think I should do about the ealdormen who have yet to show allegiance?”

She raised her head to meet his eyes. “You mean the ones still in their cells?” These lords had fled to London in hopes of evading the Viking terror themselves, leaving their people to the slaughter. “They cannot be trusted if you let them go without acknowledging your rule.”

“I know. Yet I do not have a solution to get loyalty from them. I have no wish to kill lords who have done nothing, such a thing would only create dissent in others. I wish to rule alongside Edmund. He is young and can be of use for the future. This, I think, could help sway them.”

Emma pondered his words. Indeed, co-ruling could open their eyes to showing allegiance, but Emma also knew many had not been huge supporters of Æthelred either.

“You need to give them a choice,” she said. “So long as you dangle brutal threats in front of them, the only loyalty they will show will be surface. They must see the opportunity, for their own gain, in giving you an oath.”

“I see”, was all he said.

“No matter what you choose, it will still be a risk.” She returned to laying her check on his chest.

Every move and choice he made had to be strategic. As king, Canute would have to strive to keep his rule; as a Viking King, he had to constantly prove his place. Emma knew he had great plans to further this kingdom and others.

For now, she would simply listen to his breaths as it measured out and he slept. When morning came, she would continue to be at his side through it all.  

                                          ~

The next day, Canute did exactly as she had suggested.

Emma watched as each lord pledged their allegiance to King Canute and King Edmund. The body of their fellow comrade who had chosen differently an unpleasant backdrop for the scene. She knew the discissions would be difficult. The need for a show of strength, however, was needed.

The wedding was still being planned. They both had decided a ceremony would be good for the people and help establish validity and heart into their reign. If she was honest, Emma did not need the lavishness of a wedding day. She had him and that was good enough for her. Yet, she would go through with it for him.

Her ruse still held. As baffling as it was for her to be a queen in medieval England, it was even more curious Godwin had not erred. In fact, he had remained at both their sides, a willing help when needed. Indeed, it seemed he was very adept at securing his own self-preservation. However, Emma felt Godwin had his own reasons for pledging assistance to Canute, even if she still did not trust him.

Later that night when she lay beside the king, his warmth lulling her into sleep, a knock at the door woke them.  Canute left her to see who disturbed them this late, taking his axe with him.

She was slightly concerned that he felt a need to arm himself, not sure if it was because he knew something she did not, or he simply sought to protect her if needed. As she watched from the bed, her concern turned to worry.

When he turned back to her, leaving Agnarr to close the door, the look on his face confirmed her worry.

“What is wrong?”

He held a note and looked more unsure than she had seen him. “I need to ask you something, and please, answer carefully.”

She knew he already was sure she would answer truthfully, but she was more concerned about what news he had just received.  

He sat beside her on the bed. “Denmark is currently under attack, and Olaf is holding my fleet from getting to the fight. I must go, but before I do, I need to secure your reign here.”

She looked at him seriously, knowing that he was quite literally placing his future in her hands.

He continued. “I know we planned a ceremony, which is what you deserve, but I must lead the people of Denmark. I also need England to stay in my rule, through you.”

Emma already knew what he was asking, and she did not hesitate to consent. He was confident enough in her, in them, to place an entire kingdom on her shoulders. She knew the burden he carried as king of two countries. Without her, he would be stretched too far. As queen, she would hold things together until he returned, and she was certain he would come back to her.

They both dressed quickly and made way to the throne room, where the priest Canute had already called for waited. Godwin, and Canute’s niece, Gytha, both waited as witnesses.

Gytha had helped Emma prepare, having been sent to the castle not long after the siege as a lady-in-waiting for the future queen—one that held allegiance to Canute.

Her hair still neatly brushed around her shoulders; Emma wore a simple wrap dress inlaid with intricate beautiful designs of gold and blue.

It was strange marrying someone in the middle of the night, like thieves stealing what they wanted in the dark. As she took Canute’s hand, Emma felt there was nothing more fitting, for the feelings they had for one another had sneaked up on them both, stealing their hearts.

As the dawn slowly erupted through the tall windows, Emma said her vows, and became the Queen of England for a second time.

-

 With Canute gone, as well as her Greenlander friends, Emma was truly by herself in 11th century England. Yet she was far from alone.

As she prepared for the day, she starred down at her ring—her wedding ring—and smiled. The king’s absence was like a part of herself had ventured somewhere far away, seeing the ring placed delicately on her finger reminded her of him, and that he would be back.

In her grief, she had been so lonely, isolated. The memory of her parents still filled her with sorrow, but she had the reminder that despite all she had lost, she still had found love. Now, the thought was replaced by the memory of the promises her and Canute shared just hours before. She had someone to treasure her, love her.

As soon as Gytha finished helping her dress, she made her way to find Edward and Alfred. Emma always made time for them first thing in the morning, usually she did not see them for the rest of the day due to how busy she could be.

She was soon to expect Sweyn Forkbeard, father to Canute, and the intermediate king to the throne till Canute returned. Until then, she had plenty to keep her occupied.

Once she had checked on the boys and played with them for a while, she made her way down the hall to the room used for most business. There she could review whatever court documents, letters, and requests needed her attention.

When she opened the door to enter, she felt a force knock the wind from her abdomen, causing her to tumble to her knees. Frantically she searched the room, thinking an intruder had hidden and attacked her. Yet no one was present, just her. At that very moment she felt the pull in her abdomen once again, making her hardly able to breathe.

Emma had no clue what was happening to her, until suddenly, she remembered. Remembered the day in her apartment, when she had closed her eyes, and woken to a storm on the sea.

Disbelief had her wordlessly trying to catch her breath. Then the feeling of falling overwhelmed her, followed by her vision blurring.

She tried to pull herself up, fight whatever was taking over, but it was no use. She crumbled to the floor. She tried to call to Canute, feeling somehow if he knew, he would slash the seas to get to her.

Helpless against the force that sought to pull her away, she heard heavy footsteps echo down the hall, until it faded, and the distant ring of a cell phone could be heard.