#anyway he’s more interested in writing. he’s the expert on all things supernatural in the us basically

[mamawasatesttube]

Okay I waited until you were done with WW87 to ask: please share your thoughts on Vanessa and the wild turns her story took? I’ve been really interested to hear your take as my dash’s premier DC Women Expert.

and GOD do i have thoughts on vanessa and the wild turns her story took!!!! i'm still sorting through them but MAN. it really just felt like they did NOT want to give her a break 😭😭😭

i really loved early vanessa's relationship with diana. i think one of the most striking things to me about perez's run was that he did really understand how to write a teenage girl who read like a teenage girl, and her preoccupation with things like comparing herself to her friends or struggling with school and juggling how it felt to be popular bc of her friendship with diana... it all struck a really nice contrast and balance to the supernatural and mythological and whatnot higher stakes stories going on with diana a lot of the time, and i thought the diana-julia-vanessa dynamic was overall really sweet. it's a little funny bc as i was reading, when i got to byrne's run i was actually like "i wonder if cassie and vanessa are ever going to meet, i bet they could have some fun interactions :)" and then. um. well.

overall i feel like silver swan vanessa was a) WHAT? and b) unfortunately rushed and never actually given space for the appropriate gravity and nuance it deserved. val's silver swan era got a lot better buildup and explanation than vanessa's imo. i think vanessa's silver swan era really suffered from having both major arcs with her coincide more or less with dc-wide crossover events starting up, first owaw and then identity crisis into omac stuff into infinite crisis.

because like - the shock of vanessa getting turned into the silver swan against her will could really have been something!!! however, pretty much all of it was offscreen and only really implicit. we see flashbacks and bits and pieces of ballesteros doing some insanely violating and horrifying shit to her, twice over even bc she gets kidnapped from the hospital and when she shows up again she's been horrifically altered with cybernetics grafted onto her body ? ? ?!? ?! ?!?! !! ! but at No Point in any of this do we actually get any more than a line or two about vanessa herself, how this happened to her, or how she's actually feeling under it all. i think that's partly because of the poor timing bc of the events, and partly also just her being used for shock value and more for diana's suffering (and to a lesser extent, julia's) instead of having her own consistent character arc.

i also think the fact that while brainwashed and tortured into being the silver swan, she did kill cassie's friend tammy, kind of got majorly glossed over, especially in her second appearance as the silver swan when people were going "she's a murderer????" and diana was like "well i'm granting her asylum anyways and taking care of her." like - don't get me wrong, i think that's very in character of diana, especially because she feels like she failed vanessa, but i think cassie in particular should've gotten to react to it more. i really liked the bit where cassie said to julia that if this worked out, she'd get her daughter back, but that tammy's mother would never get hers back. i wish cassie having those feelings got explored more - i didn't really like the parallel set up between vanessa vs cassie and ballesteros vs barbara minerva, re: themes of vengeance, because like... vanessa was a victim, but cassie shouldn't have to forgive her for killing her friend. these two concepts can coexist. (frankly, i would have LOVED an actual conversation between cassie and vanessa about this during/after vanessa's recovery.)

it's probably also due to timing stuff, but the plot threads with veronica cale being directly involved in torturing vanessa into the silver swan (and then threatening leslie about it) got Super dropped when identity crisis and the omacs stuff all started happening, and i think that's a shame because that plotline could've been the key to actually explaining what happened and why - it could've actually tied together the "vanessa got tormented by doctor psycho" and "vanessa ended up with ballesteros" bits because like. what. how. that feels like such a big deal to just leave to the background.

so i guess overall it's like... i don't hate it, i think it's a fascinating concept that has a lot of potential, but the execution was so rushed and so focused on diana and not on vanessa herself that it really just felt heavyhanded to me most of the time. (frankly i would also have loved to see val return as a civilian to confront and attempt to talk vanessa down, but that's probably also just personal taste.) i'm very curious what the original plans for her might've been before owaw and infinite crisis diverted them, though.

[monstermaster13]

TftW: Man, I Feel Like I’m Weyoun.

Weyoun (Star Trek: DS9) TF.

NOTE: This fic is a meta fic involving my character’s Deviantart-verse persona and it makes fun of quite a few transformation story tropes like forced mind changes/corruption elements and jokes the author puts in just because they like that sort of thing.

Nathan Forester aka Monstermaster13 was an expert in transformations of the odd variety including celebrities and Tim Burton characters, he was also the producer and writer of a transformation anthology show called Tales From The Web and also produced That Werebelushi In The Shades’s rant show which was a mega hit on Youtube. He had the most unusual tastes in transformations and wasn’t afraid to admit it, anyone who questioned these tastes of his…well let’s just say it was always short-lived and their appearances got cancelled before they could make any more of them, but let’s just say his ‘brain-rot’ so to speak went behind normal character tf-of-the-week brainrot.

Normally in stories like this there is some plot involving random characters that aren’t connected to each-other and usually it’s just an attempt to shove in as many references to older works of the author in question despite the fact it’s not even the same type of story as those and usually the random oc who gets tfed has little to nothing about them apart from what they were doing before they got transformed. So anyway, here’s the actual story…one evening Nathan had decided out of curiosity to check out the Star Trek DS9 section of tumblr’s universe only to come across a familiar face, he recognized the face though, he knew of the character ‘Weyoun’, a Vorta played by none other than Jeffrey Combs, and he knew that the character was a fan favorite. He came across a ton of imagines for the character but there was one that caught his eye. ‘Hmmm..imagine Weyoun being real and also taking over your body to make you into him. That sounds interesting.’

He answered a reply to it, writing it as a possession fic with transformation elements and he got a message. ‘Greetings, Nathan. Yes I know who you are, i’ve been reading your stories and your posts.’ ‘This is getting kind of creepy.’ ‘Sorry, but I just had to say that you’re doing a pretty good job, of course you seem to naturally accept that a character from a tv show is talking to you.’

“Wait…you’re Weyoun?”

“Yes, well…one of him, I am the ninth one.”

This sounded a bit suspicious to him but knowing what kind of adventure this was, he looked back at the screen and saw Weyoun emerging out of it, he didn’t need anything to prove what he was seeing was real, he lived in a supernatural neighborhood after all. ‘What do you need me for?’ ‘It’s simple, I am in need of someone to be my replacement should I end up dying and that person is…you.’ ‘Me?’ ‘Oh yes, you, you know how it goes by now so I won’t go over the rules.’

“There are rules?”

“Just kidding there aren’t any in this installment.”

‘Promise me you won’t make me do anything bad while you’re in my body, even though you probably will.’ ‘I promise, and also why would I do that?’, he looked over his shoulder for a bit and over to where Weyoun was, feeling a little bit anxious. ‘Because well…Jeffrey Combs' characters tend to be a little…unstable.’

“Don’t worry about a thing, i’ve got this.”

He sighed as the vorta took on a translucent form and entered his body, he spun around for a little bit before reacting with a slightly shocked look as his eyes widened and gave off a supernatural glow, turning from brown to bluish color as his skin paled and he whirled around a couple of times as his arms lengthened and his hands enlarged.

In addition to this his physique contorted to become a lot more lithe as a few cracking and crunching noises were heard but they weren’t too bad, as his legs also lengthened and his feet changed…his skin imperfections cracked and blistered before melting away completely in a manner that did come across as visceral but not overly gruesome.

He blushed a bit as his shoulders broadened and his neckline altered.his hair changed in terms of its style and turned from brown to black as his eyebrows thickened, his eyes turning from blue. In addition to this his ears slowly lengthened, at first lengthening to develop a pointed elfin appearance but then lengthening more and giving them the appearance of looking like they were connected to the rest of the head as they looked like vorta ears, right down to having ridges on them.

That’s when he saw his face morphing and reshaping itself, taking on a similar appearance to Weyoun’s and of course he didn’t need to realize…he was becoming exactly like him as his voice deepened and contorted, warping itself into a perfect copy of Weyoun’s voice, which is to say he sounded exactly like Jeffrey Combs.

Naturally this appealed to him since he was a fan of Combs, and Weyoun had been his biggest Brain-rot hyperfixation for a while now he was him, well in terms of his appearance and voice. ‘You know my favorite part of that was when I said it’s vorta-ing time and I Weyouned all over the place.’

“You’re way cooler than Morbius though.”

“Yeah.”

His transformation completed itself as he looked over at himself, seeing none other than Weyoun himself in the mirror was a shock at first but after a while he grew to love it, he was still the same old Nathan but he had the bonus of looking and sounding like he was played by Jeffrey Combs.

He examined himself and chuckled…he realized that even though Weyoun was a bit dubious in terms of his motifs he did mean well and he was after all one of the best aliens in the show and one of the best aliens in the franchise in general which made sense.

Looking around for a bit before pulling out his phone he decided to take some photos and email them to his friends, he decided to spend a couple of hours as Weyoun just to see what it felt like. Naturally, he enjoyed it and couldn’t be happier.

“How does being me feel?”

“Awesome, thanks for this.”

“No problem….I knew you’d like this.”

Sometimes you don’t need a graphic transformation sequence and extreme body horror to do a tf story and sometimes you don’t need to overload your story with complicated in-joke references only people who have read your previous stories will get, sometimes you just need good ol brain-rot to produce the wildest ideas you can imagine.

And that’s the moral of the day…brain-rot can be very helpful sometimes.

[howtocuddlecrows]

I think that I got into fantasy just at the right time. I think I was in 5th or 6th grade when I first got into it. It was basically after I saw a news segment on 퇴마록 and I wanted to read it but it was already like 12 or some books in and it was supposed to be for adults only so I couldn’t access it.

But then all the comic book rent places began to carry fantasy books too. And my first book was 가즈나이트

This was the beginning of I believe the 2nd generation of Korean fantasy. I mean technically it’s still considered 1st gen but it did start publishing after 퇴마록 and others got popular which were mostly written by older (40-50s) fiction writers who read like Ursula le Guin and Robert Jordan. This one particularly was written by a teenager when the first one was published, showing that younger audience and writers were craving for fictions beyond whatever we had to read in school. I mean most of fiction you could buy at a bookstore at the time was mostly translated literature like Wrath of Grape, Les Miserable or shit like that. So no wonder kids were into extravagant Dungeons & Dragons/Lord of the Rings world full of magic, swordfight, and dragons. Also I was getting tired of reading Dragon Ball and other shonen comics if I wanted something fantastical.

But yeah 가즈나이트 wasn’t the first D&D like fantasy setting book, aforementioned 퇴마록 being more of contemporary urban fantasy as in Neverwhere not “urban” like Black fiction but it was the first one I picked. I think the first really popular dragon and magic fantasy book was called 카르세아린 which was also written by a younger author about a young dragon named Kars-aerin disguising himself as a human and getting entangled in human political conflicts. There was 3rd gen fantasy book called 아린 이야기, which was basically fanfic/plagiarism of 카르세아린. I happened to read 아린 이야기 before reading 카르세아린 which was interesting (the original is way better btw).

Anyway back to 가즈나이트. It was basically a story about wandering swordman named 리오 스나이퍼 (Leo Sniper) who is unassuming but actually an expert fighter who saves people. Very much Kenshin from Rurouni Kenshin. And I think at the end of first or second book it turns out he’s actually a swordman chosen by a god, called God’s Knight hence the title 가즈나이트, who defends humanity with his supernatural power granted by his god. And the story evolves much like Dragon Ball in a sense that 리오 goes around bumping into conflicts and he tries his best to help people. There is always a boss monster like villain he has to defeat to solve the conflict and the stakes get higher every time and his enemies get stronger too. So naturally he needs to continue to come up with new hidden talent to fight back stronger enemy, like Dragon Ball. A few books in, I think the author realized that he had to add more characters, like Dragon Ball Z, if 리오 were to defeat some of these villains as well as the author got better at writing in general so he actually started to do some world building. This is when he retconed this shit and started to add more gods’ knights. Like surprise there are more of them. And I think this was what kept me continuing to read the series. He first introduced 지크 스나이퍼 (Zeek Sniper) who is 리오’s real life brother. And this is also when he started doing Power Rangers color coding tham. I mean 리오’s thing was that he had long red hair (Kenshin much lol) and wore blue cape and used a long sword oh and his power was neutral (we were really into 무. It means nothingness or like a void. It could be anything or everything. if light is alpha 무 is omega cuz dark is sure as hell not omega). 지크 had short blonde hair, used a short knife he was the comic relief and rock n roll guy and his power was wind. Then there was 바이론 필브라이드 (Byron Philbride or Pfilbreit. Im sorry but we didnt understand that English sounding names all came from different countries actually). He was the big scary guy who was always angry and a god damned beast. Like being always shirtless kinda stuff but also you know a daddy. He had sickly white hair and purple skin (it got explained later) and used a falchion and his power was dark. Then there was 휀 라디언트 (Fhwen or Fin or Phen Radiant) who was also a daddy but he was the daddy. Total Tsundere man like the butler from Black Butler. I actually don’t remember what he looked like but I’m sure you can tell from the name his power was light/radiant. He showed up later in the series as the leader of the gods’ knights and sort of like the adjudicator of what the knights’ duties were and being just below the gods when it comes hierarchy of gods and gods knights. Then there were these two gays guys who always showed up together named 사바신 커텔 (Thabasin or Sabasin K’tell) and 레디 키드 (Ready Kid, i forgot this was his name…my smol bean gay boy got the shit end of the stick) who had power of earth and water respectively. 사바신 was the bear himbo of the group more himbo than 지크, much like Kronk from Emperor’s New Groove, and 레디 was the twink cute guy of the group. I was honestly super into 레디 cuz he only showed up like a few times and we don’t know much about him but he just seemed like a cool guy. All I remember is that he was drawn with short green hair and he was depicted as femboy just fun carefree guy who liked art or some shit.

(This post was not made to reveal how much I’m into twinks and femboys nor that it was so obvious I was not straight)

Then I think there’s one more guy but I honestly have no memory whatsoever of this dude so uhh whelp.

But yeah it was really fun increasing stakes power upping protagonist shonen fantasy and I really liked it when I read it. There was not that big of a fandom culture around it tho because i think it was obvious even then that it was written by a child. Like there was this another 2nd gen fantasy fiction, actually a supernatural urban fantasy fiction (vampires and werewolves) called 월야환담 채월야 and that one had dedicated fandom base like to the point when I went a comic con there were artists selling fanfics and fanarts of it which I bought a few of. I still own a fanart of one of the characters. I think it’s the werebear guy. … I just realized that I of course bought a fanart of literal “bear.” I mean his human form was just tall lanky long haired hot guy so whatever. It kinda started out as Hellsing but was more like Blade.

Anyway yeah I just like reminiscing about some of the 2nd and 3rd gen books and how much they formed my view of fantasy fiction. And also after 3rd gen there was a huge gap in fantasy/science/military/alt-history fiction genre because high speed internet became a thing and nobody went to forums anymore. So many of the fantasy fictions in Korea were written and published for free on forums going even back before world wide web days then The Internet became a thing and webtoons and social media (cyworld and stuff) took over much of people’s attentions. Then Boys over Flowers hit the jackpot and catapulted young adult books written and read by girls became the main alternate literature industry. Nobody wanted to publish fantasy books written by boys or even high fantasy by veteran authors (i mean this was objectively a good thing because we wouldn’t have had webtoons industry if we were being dragged by more fantasy shonen bs). this was also the timeline when kdramas really started to find audience not just in Korea but also in Japan. So emotional love stories was the zeitgeist and that was right around the time I moved to the US and I was able to jump right into a lot of existing English fantasy fictions like Robin Hobb, Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Forgotten Realms, A Song of Ice and Fire, and such. Like I didn’t have to thirst for fantasy fictions and I was able to just continue reading fantasy fictions

[the-letter-horror-lover]

The Maturation of Ciel

PhantomButler

Summary:

The Phantomhive staff decide it's time for Ciel to become a true adult. Sebastian has a different idea of what that means.

Notes:

A big thank you to my lovely beta Chika who not only kept me motivated while writing, but sent me beautiful pictures of cake to inspire me! Also: Funtom Eggs are like Kinder Eggs!

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Ciel Phantomhive, Earl of the Phantomhive estate, had grown into a handsome young man. That was about all the growth he achieved over the past five years, according to the Phantomhive staff. His outbursts and demands were as prevalent as ever, and his relationship with his ever doting butler had remained childishly close.

Ciel was still frequently carried home, his face tucked into Sebastian's chest, two elegantly boot clad legs crossed over the butler's arms.

Ciel's features were so delicate, and his body svelte in contrast to most men's firmness, so on more than one occasion a staff member had assumed Sebastian was sneaking a girl into the house by their profile alone.

It had become a blushing issue. Paired with Ciel's ever increasing tantrums, everyone began to wonder if perhaps there was something more they could do to jettison their young master into true adulthood.

Word of this reached Baldroy, who therein offered his words of wisdom to Sebastian one night over dinner preparations. "A man has to stand on his own two feet, you know?"

The raven haired butler piqued an eyebrow but made no comment.

"He's eighteen now, we can't keep thinking of him as a boy, treatin' him like a boy. Right?"

Sebastian looked up from where he was adding decorative swirls to an exquisite chocolate ganache cake, more annoyed from being interrupted in his work than interested. "I will always treat my master with the highest respect, as is my duty as a Phantomhive servant."

"I know!" Baldroy let out a deep breath in frustration. "Look, everyone's been saying Ciel has been acting a bit immaturely for his age and we need to change a couple things we do to let him grow out of it. It's our duty as Phantomhive servants to do whatever we can to help him right? Finny has already promised to stop giving Ciel his Funtom Egg toys, even though it made him cry to agree to it, and he'll probably still do it anyway..." He trailed off.

The handsome butler resumed his expert decorating, but took to mind what Baldroy had said. Would it be better to modify his behavior in order to suit his master's age?

***

That night at dinner, after drinking a bit too much wine, Ciel pushed up from the dinner table with a disgruntled "Sebastian."

"Yes, My Lord?"

Ciel looked at his butler expectantly.

Sebastian remained in place, smiling.

"Sebastian."

"My Lord?"

"I am in no mood to play tonight!" Ciel took two staggering steps towards him, then collapsed the weight of his side against Sebastian's chest. It was the least subtle carry me he had ever seen from his young master, but Sebastian wanted to test out his new "adapt for age" theory and see where it led. Unless Ciel outright asked him to carry him upstairs, he wouldn't.

Ciel looked up at him, stunned, a blush growing. "Sebastian!"

"Does the young master, perhaps, want me to carry him?"

Ciel blushed even brighter, then shoved Sebastian the two steps back into the wall. "No!" He clamored out of the dining hall, cursing his useless butler all the way to his room.

Sebastian was so amused by his reaction, he eagerly anticipated the next time he'd get to rile up his master again.

It came sooner than he ever hoped.

A supernatural cold front blew through London, turning homes into frigid igloos. Fires were lit in every chimney in the Phantomhive manor, but the air was cold enough everyone could still see their breath.

After Sebastian dressed Ciel for bed, he bowed and turned as if to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Ciel gawked at Sebastian from his bedside. Not only did he always tuck him in, it was freezing out, and Sebastian slept beside him when it was cold

"Have I forgotten something?" Sebastian smiled, tilting his head innocently to the side.

"I'm cold Sebastian!" Ciel barked, crawling into bed and pulling the covers over himself with an irritated hmph.

"I shall fetch you another blanket." Sebastian bowed.

Ciel's jaw dropped. His butler was being purposely obtuse, but for what reason? Was hunger making him impatient? The contract had drawn out years longer than they had originally anticipated, but Sebastian had not set a time limit.

Sebastian returned with the blanket, and was in the process of properly fanning it out, when Ciel grabbed his sleeve and tugged him down onto the bed. "Stupid demon."

***

A few days later, Sebastian taught Finny how to use the latest style of hedge clippers, while the young gardener cried about Funtom Egg toys.

"I can't pass a chocolate shoppe without crying! I know Ciel has adult wants now, but isn't he allowed to want toys too?!" Sebastian gave up trying to teach the boy anything new for that afternoon. He was clearly too upset by the staff's recent efforts at maturing Ciel.

As Finny watered the hedges with his tears, Sebastian wondered if it was not Ciel, but the staff that needed maturing.

Although Finny had said one thing that inspired thought. His master was on the edge of adulthood, he needed different things than he did as a child.

Sebastian spent that night reading up on human adolescence. It was his duty as a Phantomhive family butler to take care of his master's needs, whatever they may be.

"Sebastian!" Ciel kicked open the library doors, the force of it swinging the large double doors into the wall behind them with a resounding bang. "I have been calling you for over an hour!"

"I am sorry, My Lord. As you can see this room is sound proof."

"I could be in Paris and you'd still hear me, you liar!" Ciel stormed up to where Sebastian was reclined on a plush velvet couch and snatched the book from between his hands. "What are you reading? What is this?"

"Very informative." Sebastian grinned.

"The history of primates?" Ciel threw the book at him, seething. "What is wrong with you Sebastian? You've been acting weird!"

"Have I, My Lord?" He expertly caught the book before it could hit his face.

"Everyone's been acting weird, but you especially!!" Ciel pointed an accusatory finger at his butler. "Explain yourself!"

"I apologize if I have acted, in any way, ill befitting a Phantomhive servant." Sebastian smoothly closed the book and set it beside him on the couch. "Young master is not a young master anymore, but a man. You have different needs."

"What are you rambling on about?" Ciel, already pacified by his butler's apology, let out a bored huff and extended his fingers. His sapphire family crest was looking a little less glinty. Sebastian better not have been getting lazy in his chores too. Useless servant.

"Is there-" Sebastian, always sure with his words, faltered. It caused Ciel to look at him once again with interest. "Is there something My Lord needs that I am not giving?"

Sebastian hated admitting to a possible failing, but he knew that a good butler recognized when to ask his master what he should do better.

"What?" Ciel crossed his arms, staring down at his butler confused.

"Something I can do for you as an adult." Sebastian said it with all innocence, his mind at that moment leaning towards including shaving in their morning ritual, or perhaps-

"Pervert!!" Ciel blushed vivid red, and his hands flew to cover his face to hide his embarrassment. "You're disgusting, Sebastian!!" He yelled, before rushing from the room, keeping one hand over his face as he ran.

"The wall!" Sebastian called, right as Ciel missed the exit by mere inches and collided into the frame beside it. His body crumpled to the ground and Sebastian immediately appeared at his side. "Young master." He worriedly cooed, kneeling down.

"I'm fine." Ciel brushed off Sebastian's attempts to help him rise, but used his shoulder to push himself to a standing position and keep Sebastian kneeling. "Never-" He started. "Do not-" Ciel grew more flustered as he tried to vocalize his thoughts, his words gradually turning into a single frustrated scream.

Ciel clenched his fists and stormed out of the room, whipping Sebastian in the face with the tail of his royal blue overcoat as he turned.

Things calmed down in the Phantomhive household after that, or at least they seemed to. Sebastian returned to his usual treatment of Ciel, and Ciel for the most part, maintained his usual bratty demeanor, if not for a few added blushes when Sebastian dressed him in the morning and undressed him at night.

One evening, Sebastian had just finished preparing Ciel's bath and was heading to the laundry room to retrieve fresh clothes for his master when he smelled the familiar aroma that often wafted in on a certain individual.

"Lau." Sebastian entered the closest parlor and politely greeted their guest. "What brings you here so late at night? I am afraid My Lord has just retired for the evening."

"I heard about your plans for Ciel and I thought I'd drop by to help." He grinned, smoke rising from his pipe in wispy tendrils. "We are old friends, after all."

Sebastian didn't get a chance to ask what he meant by that, because he soon heard Ciel's familiar angry cry of "Sebastian!!!"

Ciel, much to his horror, had entered his room to find a completely naked Ran Mao sprawled out on his bed.

"Get her out! Out, out, out!!" Ciel howled, gesturing frantically.

Sebastian draped a blanket over Ran Mao's nude figure and kindly helped her back to Lau.

"Not his type?" Lau quizzed.

Ran Mao shrugged her shoulders and sat down on his lap.

"If you'll kindly." Sebastian gestured to the door. "The hour is now inappropriately late for guests."

Sebastian expected Ciel to be almost finished with his bath by the time he got back to his room. After escorting the late night intruders out, Sebastian went for Ciel's clothes only to find them unpressed. He would have a talk with the launders in the morning.

He found Ciel in his bathing room, but not in the tub. He was sitting on the side of it, his jacket discarded on the floor, his shirt unbuttoned save a few. The butler appeared to have caught his master deep in thought, peering into the reflective waters of the bath as if it was a magic mirror.

Ciel looked up upon noticing Sebastian's arrival. At first he blushed and averted his gaze, but after a moment of thought he was across the room in a flash, slapping Sebastian hard across his face.

"Was that your idea of a joke?" Ciel's fists bunched in the fabric of Sebastian's shirt and slammed him against the wall.

Sebastian was uniquely stunned. He couldn't have anticipated Lau's actions, but he wouldn't have thought Ciel would be so angry if he had.

"You know my preferences and you mock me!" Ciel choked, then shoved Sebastian back again in frustration.

Ciel's anger was darker than his usual force, it was more panic with an edge of fear, which made it more tantalizing. Sebastian unconsciously licked his lips, too hung up on Ciel's new aura to catch his words.

Ciel let out a strangled cry, then yanked the lapels of his butler's jacket, forcing him down enough for Ciel to press their lips together in a biting kiss.

Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise, and he had no sooner began to move his arm around his master and deepen the kiss when Ciel jerked back, his teeth skimming Sebastian's bottom lip and drawing blood.

Sebastian's tongue immediately darted out to clean his lip.

Kissing Ciel made him feel ravenous. The hunger he felt for Ciel, always kept in check under a tightly controlled facade, spiraled at the taste of him.

Sebastian was panting, breathless.

He was never breathless.

He couldn't help but look at Ciel accusingly, as if Ciel had been teasing him, and felt shame for it immediately.

Ciel looked absolutely mortified, and he slapped Sebastian once more to save face before rushing from the room with what were clearly tears in his eyes.

"Stupid demon!!"

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Ciel avoided Sebastian the next morning, already dressed and out of bed when his butler arrived to wake him. He then actively ordered Sebastian out of his sight during lunch.

The servants assumed it had something to do with their recent schemes and felt personally responsible. They felt even worse as Ciel's temperament and mood deteriorated as the day went on, snapping at absolutely everyone, even well intentioned Mey Rin.

Because Ciel had ordered Sebastian to stay away from him, there was no one to catch the maid's errors, and the majority of Ciel's lunch ended on the floor or on his shirt.

He had to change his clothes twice that day.

Starving, tie askew, shirts misbuttoned, Ciel gave up and called for Sebastian to serve him come dinner time.

Sebastian took the opportunity to offer endless apologies for Lau's actions and any impropriety on his own part, all of which Ciel ignored. Sebastian took the fact that he wasn't yelling or throwing things as a sign of forgiveness, and felt mollified.

Watching his master scarf down more than his usual amount at dinner, Sebastian thought back to the night before. What was it that Ciel said? Something about preferences? It was followed by a kiss, and prefaced by him demanding Ran Mau be thrown out of his room.

Sebastian put the pieces together easily enough. The more difficult part was what to do with such knowledge.

If his lordship wanted him, then of course he would oblige. He would learn to tamper his hunger as he had learned to do in many other situations.

The thought of being intimate with Ciel made Sebastian feel momentarily uncomfortable. It would be different than the humans he had slept with for information.

To be so close to the one thing he wanted most, and yet blocked by mere flesh...

It would be harrowing.

He promptly decided to act on it! The handsome demon was always up for trying new kinds of masochism!

"What are you grinning about?" Ciel collapsed back in his chair, exhausted from overindulgence.

"I am only happy to be back in My Lord's good graces." Sebastian cheerfully replied.

Ciel narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but didn't inquire further.

***

Ciel spent the following day in his office sorting through piles of paperwork, which gave Sebastian time to plot out his strategy as he polished the china.

He knew his master well enough to know things would not bode well if he was the one who initiated it. Yet how could he offer himself without showing he was being sincere? It was an impossible feat.

If he outright told him, "My body is yours!" Ciel would most likely call him disgusting and throw him out the nearest window. If he did nothing, Ciel would never act on his own volition.

Sebastian clutched his polishing rag and looked off in the direction of the study. His master was such a complex soul, something as simple as seduction even took more thought for him.

It was time for Ciel's afternoon tea, so Sebastian made sure to leave the very top button of his shirt undone, and ran his fingers through his hair a couple times. The disheveled sexy look.

That alone worked countless times in the past on other individuals. It was a good starting point.

He was about to push open the door to his master's study when Mey Rin appeared, stumbling down the hall, a tray of porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers swaying side to side.

"Sebastian!" She tripped forward, the tray and contents flying high into the air.

Sebastian, being the sure footed and quick thinking butler that he is, swiftly caught the helpless maid in the crevice of his arm, the tray of vases in one hand, and his master's tea tray in the other.

She fawned and thanked him, once again taking the tray and puttering down the hallway.

Sebastian shook his head and tightened his tie out of habit. It was past time he give the servants a new training seminar, but for now...

Ciel didn't look up from his paperwork, even when Sebastian took a few extra moments setting out the china and posing by the teapot.

Sebastian couldn't feel too disappointed about it. He hadn't expected such a simple tactic would work, and he hated appearing unpolished around his lordship.

"Sebastian." Ciel's voice was low, tired. "I shall take my tea in the garden."

"Yes, My Lord."

Ciel scooted his chair back, and was about to brush by when he paused.

That shouldn't be there. Ciel automatically stroked the pink lipstick off his butler's neck with his thumb.

His eyes then glanced to Sebastian's unbuttoned top and unkempt hair and he abruptly stumbled back with much more energy than he had before.

"What have you been doing?" Ciel blushed, taking in his butler's full appearance. "Do that on your own time!"

It was not the reaction Sebastian had been going for, but a reaction nonetheless! He adjusted his appearance and followed his master outside.

***

Ciel lazily stirred his tea, one elbow on the table, his chin resting on his hand, and he peered at Sebastian from the corner of his eye.

"Who was she?" He grumbled, trying to keep the interest out of his voice. It was apparent enough by his pouting.

"Who, My Lord?" Sebastian eagerly replied.

"You know who!" Ciel pointed to his own neck, but the movement was so aggressive, it looked like he was making a chop off her neck gesture.

"Ah you mean the lipstick?"

"Yes, the lipstick!"

"Mey Rin."

"Mey Rin!!" Ciel sputtered, nearly knocking his tea cup over.

Sebastian thought about continuing the charade, Ciel's behavior was unexpectedly delightful, but he knew how fast his emotions could turn to anger.

"I helped her with her tray in the hall, it must've stained me when she fell. I apologize for my previous appearance." Sebastian bowed low. "And My Lord should know, all my time is his time."

Ciel stared at him perplexed, was he upset he didn't get time off? Payback for his earlier comment? What was his butler up to?

His eyes stayed on Sebastian as he cut the magnificent cake and presented it with a proud flourish.

Ciel blocked out Sebastian's excessive cake details as he usually did, not caring whether the cream was imported from a special region in France or from the backyard. As long as it tasted good, the origins did not concern him, and all of Sebastian's sweets were delicious.

Sometimes he wondered what purpose Sebastian had for making so many elaborate desserts. Was it out of personal pleasure, or show of skill? It couldn't be just for his own benefit.

Did Sebastian even have personal pleasures outside of soul eating?

Ciel grew disgruntled at his own train of thought, and tried to refocus his mind on something else. He whipped the fork down to slice the cake with a little too much force, and the excessive frosting splattered up against his arm.

Before he could do anything about it, Sebastian was kneeling at his side, towel in hand, taking Ciel's delicate fingers into his own and stroking the cream off.

"Tea time is for pleasant thoughts only." Sebastian chimed.

"It's your fault!" Ciel cried, before he thought better.

"Mine?"

"You know what you did." Ciel grumbled, turning his face away.

"If there is something I have done wrong, I apologize. I am here only to serve." Sebastian kissed Ciel's ring. It was along the lines of their usual affection, but as their fingers began to drift apart, he pressed another kiss to the bare skin on Ciel's palm.

Ciel yanked back his hand in shock. His immediate thought was to reprimand his butler, but he didn't really want to bring attention to the action.

"Clean this up." Ciel ordered, holding his affronted hand to his chest and marching back inside. He'd had enough confusing encounters with Sebastian for one day.

***

Ciel sunk to the bottom of the gilded bathing tub.

Sebastian was up to something, and he got the strong suspicion it had something to do with that kiss they shared a few nights ago.

Rising to the surface, he leaned over the edge of the bath and stared at the area of the wall where he had shoved his butler.

He had put new thoughts in Sebastian's head and it could lead nowhere good. His butler would no doubt use it to inflict future torment or teasing.

He wanted to blame Sebastian but knew it was his own fault.

His hormones' fault.

Ciel collapsed back into the waters and tried to float. The tub was now too small for that and he cursed his body. His mind had matured years ago, and he found it rather inconvenient that his body had just now caught up.

It was changing his relationship with everyone, and everyone was changing.

"My Lord." Sebastian knocked twice before entering with a clean towel.

For the first time Ciel was embarrassed to stand. He crowded the corner of the tub, knees tucked into his chest until he steeled himself.

Sebastian had seen him naked everyday for the past eight years. He told himself it was foolish to get embarrassed now, not to mention weak.

Weakness was the one thing the Earl of the Phantomhive estate could not afford.

Ciel forced himself to stand and threw out his arms, as he usually did, for Sebastian to wrap the towel around him.

As the butler moved in close, Ciel thought back to before they kissed. Sebastian had offered to take care of his needs. If he asked, Sebastian would do anything he said. What reason was there to be shy when he could just command Sebastian to-

Ciel blushed cherry red and shook his head. That would make him the pervert!

"Is everything all right?" Sebastian's voice carried a hint of amusement.

"Yes." Ciel nudged Sebastian back with one towel clad arm and scurried from the room.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he forgot Sebastian still had to dress him for bed, and when the butler followed him into his bedroom he panicked.

"What are you doing?!" Ciel clutched the towel tighter around himself for modesty.

Sebastian blinked and tilted his head to the side, confused.

"What does my lordship want me to do?" Sebastian at last replied.

Ciel turned his face away so Sebastian couldn't see his blush and pointed at his closet, deflecting.

As Sebastian went to retrieve his clothes, Ciel sat down on the bed and pulled his towel up to both dry his hair and partially shield his face.

"This is getting ridiculous." He muttered to himself, roughly running the fabric through his hair. He shouldn't be blushing and shying away from Sebastian, if he needed something from him he would demand it. He was Ciel Phantomhive!

"Sebastian!" He started firmly.

Sebastian paused and looked up.

"Yes, My Lord?"

Ciel faltered, realizing he had no idea what to say. Kiss me until I don't feel like this anymore? Until you disgust me again? He always felt like this for Sebastian, maybe not so strongly but it had always been there. And Sebastian never disgusted him, even when he told him he did.

He swiftly chucked the towel at Sebastian's face and looked away.

He couldn't do it!

When a cold gust blew over him, the realization that he just threw the only thing shielding his naked body struck him.

He slowly turned his head to look at his butler. Sebastian had draped the towel over his arm and was taking an extraordinarily long time picking out his night shirt.

"They all look the same!" Ciel cracked, stomping to the closet and ripping one out at random.

"But some are more worn than others! And different colors!" Sebastian protested. Ciel yanked the shirt over his own head, ignoring Sebastian's cries that it was on backwards, and marched off to bed.

"Goodnight Sebastian!"

Sebastian started to follow, ignoring the not so subtle hint that Ciel did not want to be tucked in that night.

"Goodnight Sebastian!" Ciel repeated, and this time blew out the candles beside his bed in emphasis.

***

Sebastian was beginning to question himself. Perhaps he had misunderstood his master's feelings. What if he was not lusting after him, but lusting in general? The kiss was nothing more than Ciel's idea of punishment for what he (mistakenly) thought was his butler shaming his preferences. He was not jealous of Mey Rin, he was jealous that a lowly butler was getting more action than him! And since he was clearly still an innocent in that way, his constant blushes were nothing more than embarrassment from the topic.

Sebastian felt acutely disappointed at his conclusion. Not only was his vanity wounded, but he had been looking forward to the experience.

It would be hard to drop the idea now that he had come to savor it, but he would do what was best for his master, even if that meant finding him a man.

How would he go about it? Lau was an easy solution. He would have a list of handsome young men he could summon.

But his master could not lay with just anyone, let alone a prostitute!

The idea was cringe worthy.

Sebastian wondered why the thought even formed in his head.

Lau's unwelcome intrusions extended to minds too, it seemed.

Sebastian turned his thoughts back to Ciel. Who would be good enough for his master? Ciel needed someone he could trust. Someone he felt safe with, but who was also suitable for his position as Earl. It would need to be a man of status. A handsome man of status.

Sebastian wondered if such a man existed. He sighed and made his way to the kitchens to begin lunch preparations. Perhaps, in time, a suitable candidate would present itself.

At that very moment, none other than Prince Soma and his loyal khansama Agni appeared at the opposite end of the hall.

"Prince Soma?" Had the universe decided for him? Was this to be Ciel's new bedmate?

"Hmm. Prince Soma..." Sebastian considered it, hand on chin.

Ciel had known him for years, he was harmless enough not to get Ciel into any real trouble, he was even higher ranking than his lordship, and for a human he was quite handsome. He met all the requirements and more.

"Prince Soma!" He repeated, this time resolute, clapping his hands together in decision.

Soma took one look at the butler and sprang behind Agni's back, hiding in fear. "Why does he keep saying my name?!!"

"Sebastian!" Agni called cheerfully and waved.

"Has Prince Soma come to have lunch with his lordship?" Sebastian smiled, approaching their guests.

Soma continued to cower behind Agni's back, but peeked his head out at mention of Ciel.

"No, we are here because-" Agni started.

"Wonderful! I shall set out an extra plate!" Sebastian bowed and gestured them forward. "His lordship is in the garden."

"I want to see Ciel!" Soma sang, stepping out from behind Agni to follow. But he kept one hand on the back of Agni's shirt as they walked, Sebastian too close for comfort.

Ciel looked up none too happily from where he was seated reading on a bench. He was clearly annoyed at the interruption, but he still creased the page and set his book aside to give them his full attention.

"Prince Soma. Agni." Ciel stood.

"Ciel!" Soma bounded over to his friend and threw his arms around the younger man's shoulders, hugging him warmly. "It's been too long!!"

"It's only been a week," Ciel grumbled, but patted Soma's hand in his own attempt at camaraderie.

Prince Soma stood behind Ciel as he hugged him, and Sebastian wondered if that was so his back wasn't facing the butler.

Threaten a man once and he never moves past it. Humans.

"I shall prepare lunch for two." Sebastian bowed and announced his departure.

"Two?" Ciel, not wanting to appear rude, but not in the mood for company either, said "I have an important errand in town."

"Under-eating is detrimental to one's health." Sebastian swiftly replied.

"I'll have lunch there." Ciel countered, glaring at his butler.

"Perfect! Prince Soma can accompany you."

Soma watched the exchange confused, unsure why the man who once threatened him, and therefore didn't have much feeling for him, was trying to get him to spend time with Ciel.

Perhaps Ciel had been lonely?

The thought of Ciel lonely was too sad for Soma to bear. Even though he and Agni already ate, he cheerfully cried, "I'm hungry! I want lunch in town!"

Agni looked at his prince in admiration, nothing but love in his eyes, but Sebastian was too busy hurrying away from Ciel before he could give another excuse to notice.

"I'll alert the carriage!"

***

The ride into London was an uncomfortable one, at least for one member of the party.

Ciel glared at Sebastian, who in turn smiled pleasantly.

Prince Soma animatedly looked out the window and Agni enjoyed listening to his running commentary on the scenery.

"What are you up to?" Ciel rasped, kicking Sebastian in the shin.

"Up to?"

"Don't play stupid. I can tell when you're scheming." He reached across the seat and grabbed his butler's tie, pulling their faces closer together.

"Scheming? I am only seeing to my master's needs." Sebastian innocently replied.

The use of that word made Ciel flush. He dropped Sebastian's tie, letting him fall back onto the seat with a solid thump.

"You'll pay for this later," Ciel hissed.

"I look forward to it." If it was anything like his last punishment, then Sebastian was more than sincere.

Ciel kicked Sebastian again, not liking the eager way he replied, and turned with a hmph to glare out the window.

***

"Are you fighting with Sebastian?" Soma asked outright at lunch. "He might be scary, but he cares about you."

"I do not fight with my butler, he serves me." Ciel indignantly replied, aggressively slicing his steak into tiny pieces.

"Agni serves me and we fight sometimes." Soma swiped a fry from Ciel's plate, doing it as a game to see if he could avoid Ciel's thrashing knife. "They all end with me realizing Agni is only fighting for me, not against me."

"Sebastian is not Agni." Ciel dropped his silverware and Soma squeaked and jumped back, his hand in the process of stealing another fry. "I'm not hungry." Ciel pushed his plate towards Soma, seeing he was more interested in it.

"I'm not really hungry either." Soma laughed, hands safely behind his head, plate untouched.

"Why did you come then?"

"I wanted to spend time with you," Soma replied with an easy smile. Ciel blinked, unsure what to make of such a sentiment. "You shouldn't fight with Sebastian."

"I'm not fighting with Sebastian!" Ciel protested for the last time.

His butler was getting it tonight! He didn't know what it was yet, but he knew Sebastian wasn't going to like it! He'd make sure of that!

***

Sebastian was worried. His master had been cold and silent since his return from lunch. Every time he asked Ciel a question or tried to get some conversation out of him all he got in return was a nonchalant nod.

Ciel, on the other hand, had not yet come up with a fitting punishment, thus deciding to completely ignore Sebastian until he did. That seemed to bother his demon butler enough for the present.

By the time dinner came around Sebastian was feeling as distraught as he ever let himself be.

He served his master an exorbitant amount of forgive me desserts, presenting each of them with a little less flourish.

Ciel usually ignored him anyway.

Sebastian heard sniffling and momentarily cheered thinking it was his master who he could comfort; instead it was Mey Rin, watching them from the corner of the room.

Her glasses fogged from her tears. She wiped them on her dress to clear them, only to re-fog them when she could once again see the coldness between Ciel and Sebastian.

Tanaka appeared to escort the weeping maid out, shutting the doors behind him. They needed privacy to work out their issues, and he personally needed more tea.

Ciel slammed his hands on the table the moment the door clicked shut.

"You went too far Sebastian! You're going to put an end to your scheming!" Ciel pushed himself to a standing position, glaring at his butler with the most furious expression his delicate face could manage.

"Is that an order?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

"Sebastian," Ciel ripped off his eye patch, flinging it onto the table in front of him where it landed on a cheesecake.

Sebastian's eyes immediately focused on the soiled article of clothing.

"I or-" Ciel's left fist missed the table where he meant to slam it and instead went directly into the chocolate mousse, both destroying the dessert and sullying his hand and sleeve.

Sebastian's eyes widened completely.

Ciel seized the moment and slammed his right hand down in the mille feuille, grinning to himself when Sebastian's mouth came open in shock. He then crawled onto the table to break all the dishes with his weight, his knees going into the crème caramel and his fingers the peach a la mode.

Sebastian watched in both horror and something else Ciel couldn't quiet place, but would be akin to disgust. This was definitely not the punishment he ever thought he'd come up with, but as long as Sebastian wasn't happy, then it was a success.

Ciel was bathing in his victory (and the meringue) when the edges of Sebastian's lips started to rise, as if to form a smile.

Ciel froze. Sebastian wasn't going to laugh at his expense. This was supposed to be punishment, not an amusement. Sebastian wasn't allowed to laugh at him.

Ciel, knees still on the table, reached out with twitchy, cake covered fingers and took Sebastian's face in his hands. His thumbs slid across Sebastian's cheekbones, pulling the skin taught, lips up, a mockery of a smile. He sealed the display with a hard, condescending press of his lips.

Sebastian didn't hesitate. He surged forward, pinning Ciel against the table. Dishes cracked and broke underneath Ciel's back, and his legs flew up to bracket the looming butler.

Ciel felt panic rush his body. Was Sebastian going to eat him now? Was he being served up on a bed of desserts? Sebastian always did like cake a little too much, and Ciel had just rolled himself in it!

Ciel couldn't do more than clutch helplessly at Sebastian's shirt as the demon butler hovered over him, now on the table too, his knees on either side of Ciel keeping him locked in.

"Young master, that is not the proper way to kiss someone." Sebastian took Ciel's face, his thumbs mimicking Ciel's early movement only softer, caressing his cheeks, and leaned in to kiss Ciel with expert ease.

Ciel, both shocked at Sebastian's actions and relieved he was not going to be eaten, relaxed immediately and let himself enjoy Sebastian's warmth.

This is what he had really been wanting.

He wrapped his arms around Sebastian's neck so their torsos would press and he could feel him more. He felt blissfully comforted by Sebastian's familiar touches and his new ones.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was feeling increasingly hungry. Every swipe of Ciel's tongue across his own, every breathless pant of his name added to the mounting feeling of genuine panic. He pressed on despite his hesitations, trailing kisses across Ciel's jaw, and focusing on the enjoyment he felt at having his proud master under his sway.

Ciel's hands fell lower, gently untucking Sebastian's shirt.

"Sebastian." He whispered pleadingly, his fingers dipping the waistline of Sebastian's pants.

Sebastian broke away with an uncomfortable gasp, unable to continue without devouring him.

His desire for Ciel's soul was stronger than he anticipated.

It would take time to adjust.

Seeing Sebastian so incapacitated, his eyes glowing embers of red, his breath coming out in weakened puffs, one knee and hand still resting at Ciel's side as if he hadn't the strength to stand, Ciel felt powerful.

His original thought of punishing Sebastian rushed back in full force, and his surging adrenaline made him unwilling to end their game yet. He was now winning, and he needed to destroy his opponent completely.

Ciel shoved one palm against Sebastian's shoulder, easily unbalancing him. His back hit the table, desserts on porcelain plates shattered loudly into even more pieces.

Sebastian gazed wide eyed up at Ciel and did nothing as Ciel straddled him, pulled him up by his tie, and captured his mouth.

Ciel kissed him roughly, teeth scraping, lips bruising, tongue almost choking.

Ciel was so angry, overly self assured, defiant, resentful; it was an orgy of dark emotion that came from his very soul. It was the darkness that urged Sebastian to serve Ciel, and he could taste it on his lips!

The demon butler was gaining control of himself once more, and the play of emotions in his master's kisses was pleasing him in the best of places.

Sebastian's hands went to Ciel's face, unable to resist touching him. He gently dipped Ciel's chin, forcing him to soften his kisses, his tongue all sweetness.

Only his master, only Ciel Phantomhive, could make such a human act enjoyable to him. For the first time he no longer felt impatient for the contract to end.

Ciel felt his heart speed up, Sebastian's unexpectedly tender actions soothing any residual ire. What was meant to be a cruel defeat turned into something else completely.

The way Sebastian was stroking his cheek, the delicate press of his lips, the way he was gazing at him; it was worshipful, almost loving.

Ciel blushed, the thought and gentle intimacy too much to bear. He wanted to pull away but couldn't bring himself to.

Ciel let out a strangled moan.

It was meant to be a protest.

Sebastian slid his hand across Ciel's chest, unbuttoning the top of his shirt in the process, and the action jolted Ciel into turning his face, breaking the kiss.

Sebastian followed his lips, not ready for it to end yet, not when he was starting to revel in this new delight.

"Sebastian!" Ciel indignantly shoved at Sebastian's chest, catching his butler off guard and sending him splattering back into the broken, heap of desserts.

Ciel threw himself off the table, taking a few crashing plates with him, and flung out his hands to his sides, sending excess cake and mousse and a dozen other dripping delicacies to the floor.

"Clean this up!" He ordered, his voice shaking though he would never admit to it. "You stupid demon!"

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Sebastian arrived at Ciel's bedroom the next morning, as he usually did, to awaken his master. He had left the young lord alone for the greater part of the night, knowing he needed time to reflect.

Sebastian had only knocked on Ciel's door once the previous evening, to offer assistance in removing the broken porcelain that his lordship was loudly pulling from his flesh.

Ciel had locked the door and refused to let him in, so that was that.

Sebastian half expected the door to still be locked in the morning, but smiled as it unclicked easily.

His master never could stay mad at him longer than a day.

Sebastian placed freshly brewed tea on the table and opened the curtains, letting in the bright morning light.

He preferred to awaken his lordship in stages, so that it might be a peaceful process.

He tucked the damask curtains into their silver hold-backs and shook his head at himself. All he could think about during his nightly patrols were new ways to steal kisses and seduce his master. That itself was not a troubling thing, it was that he wanted to. His instincts told him to drop such a sentiment from his mind.

He approached Ciel's bedside and gazed down at the resting figure. Ciel had clearly struggled with his bandages and they lay tangled and loose across his bare chest.

The past few years had begun to feel monotonous. The night before had been exciting. He reasoned that it was only natural to want more thrill. He was a demon, after all. And he had only acted on Ciel's own wishes; he would've never done otherwise. So if Ciel wished for further intimacy, and Sebastian personally enjoyed it, why should he consider it a bad thing?

Ciel rolled over, kicking off his covers, and buried his face deeper into his pillow. "Sebastian." He mumbled, his voice scratchy, half awake.

It was adorable!

Sebastian resolutely decided the intimacy was only a new way of playing with Ciel, flavoring his soul, and it was nothing to be concerned about.

"Good morning, young master! Today I have prepared Oolong tea. Imported from the islands of Japan..."

***

Ciel's entire body ached. He'd spent half the night picking shards of porcelain out of his back and thinking about everything but Sebastian.

When his butler arrived to wake him, he did his best to act as normal as possible. When Sebastian dressed him, he purposely looked away and thought of everything he hated so he wouldn't blush.

He tried to think of other things during breakfast too, calming his breath and sipping his tea. It was proving more difficult to do under Sebastian's overbearing attention.

He spared a moment to glare menacingly at his butler. If Sebastian would just stop ogling him like he was a piece of catnip he might actually have a chance!

Ciel's glaring only seemed to please Sebastian more, his smile growing wider, his cheeks flushing with happiness.

Ciel gave up and returned to his tea.

He didn't want to think about the night before. Everything in his life was already so complicated, layers of ulterior motivations and revenge and no one ever being who they said they were. Things with Sebastian had always been simple, in their own way. They had both known where the other stood, and what they wanted.

Now he didn't know what he wanted from his demon butler.

Ciel reached for more sugar cubes and winced, a particular deep cut on his thigh rubbing against the edge of the chair.

Sebastian appeared seconds later with a pillow.

Ciel obstinately refused.

"You will be far more comfortable," Sebastian urged.

What had Sebastian been thinking, tossing the Earl of the Phantomhive estate onto a dirty table? Ciel thought back angrily. He conveniently left out his own prior actions in his thoughts.

He swiped the pillow begrudgingly. "I wouldn't need a pillow if you had been less reckless with my body!"

A strange half squeal, half gurgle alerted both Ciel and Sebastian, and they looked towards the source of the noise.

Mey Rin had swooned, her nose bleeding, and clutched the curtains to keep from falling to the floor. The weight of it caused the beams to collapse, and the fabric came piling down on top of her.

"You should've stopped that," Ciel said at last.

Sebastian sighed.

***

Ciel took a break from his morning paperwork and strolled the halls of the Phantomhive Manor. The general overseeing of such a vast estate, alongside his Funtom Company holdings, took a toll on his mind. He required frequent breaks to clear his thoughts and prepare for the next hour's progress.

Ciel trailed his fingers along the elegantly papered walls and wondered what Sebastian was going to make for dinner. He had a strong craving for Italian.

He felt a sudden tugging on his boot and stopped to assess the situation.

One of his shoelaces was untied.

He knelt to retie it, but years of Sebastian dressing him left Ciel wanting in that department. The bow skewed in the wrong direction.

He tried again, but this time the bow was the wrong size, in comparison to the other, and the imperfection bothered him.

There was a reason he preferred buttons to laces.

Where was Sebastian?

Ciel instinctively sought out his butler, finding him in the first place he looked, the library. He had been spending an unusual amount of time there as of late.

"Sebastian." Ciel approached where he was reading, poised upright on a chair. He kicked his foot between Sebastian's legs, knowing he would move in time.

His ever meticulous servant set aside his reading and retied Ciel's knee high boot with a smile.

How could his young master still not know how to properly tie a shoelace? Maybe he did go a little too far in his enthusiasm to be a dutiful butler.

Ciel watched him passively, keeping his foot balanced on the furniture.

"I see this bandage has loosened as well." Sebastian's hand dipped beneath Ciel's thigh, just above his shorts, where he had poorly tied a piece of muslin around a deep cut.

"It's fine." Ciel quickly pulled his leg back, his blood rushing at Sebastian's touch.

Sebastian knelt anyway, sliding up Ciel's shorts and untying the cloth.

Ciel turned his face away but let his butler fix it nonetheless.

He rather enjoyed Sebastian on his knees.

"Shall I fix your other bandages now too? It might be time to change them." Sebastian offered, tucking the bandage under, in contrast to how Ciel had previously tied it in a bow, so that it would be more comfortable. He then carefully rolled down the ends of the shorts.

"Not now. I have business to see to." Ciel found himself disappointed when Sebastian took back his hand and crossed it over his chest, bowing.

"Yes, My Lord."

He really wasn't going to try anything? Not a playful touch or instigatory kiss?

Catching himself hoping he would, Ciel blushed brighter, and retreated to his study.

He couldn't concentrate on his duties the rest of the day. He thought about Sebastian and fretted over dining in the same room the events happened in. He didn't want to invite company or change rooms, because then Sebastian would know he was affected and have the upper hand.

He prayed there was a break in the case, a message from the Queen, something to take his mind from his damn demon butler!

He smacked a pen holder, feeling relief as he watched the instruments scatter across his desk. A single figurine, shaped like a rabbit, tumbled out amongst them.

He picked up the object, recognizing it as one of the toys Finny usually left as an offering. He didn't have use for such things, but he knew it made Finny happy to leave them, so he never openly objected. It was also good to have a few company toys on his desk during meetings to show pride in his product.

Thinking on it further, Finny hadn't left any for the past few weeks, and it had been a frequent occurrence. What made him stop?

His stomach growled. Dinner was only an hour away, but he got the feeling he wouldn't be able to eat much at that table. He wondered if Sebastian would be in the kitchen helping with dinner preparations.

If it was just his chef he could steal a few bites. If it was Sebastian he'd be scolded for ruining his appetite. He decided to take a casual stroll and decide from there.

His plan was thwarted as smoke filled his senses the closer he got to the kitchens.

"What is happening?" Ciel coughed, nearing the doorway, waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to clear the air in front of him.

"No need to be alarmed! I have it all under control!!" Baldroy called, extinguishing the flames rising from the oven.

Finny pressed by Ciel with a cheerful "Pardon me!" and tossed the buckets he had been carrying onto the fire, ending the madness at last.

From the amount of smoke in the air and scorch marks on the walls, half the kitchen had been set aflame.

"Sorry about the mess! No worries though, dinner will still be ready on time!" Baldroy laughed nervously, then coughed from the smoke and waved his hand around. "Finny open every window you see!"

"Right!" Finny saluted.

Ciel staggered out, letting his servants handle the disaster. He untucked his kerchief and covered his face to breathe through the fabric, the ensuing smoke burning his nose.

The pain in his eye made it difficult to see, but with his asthma, it was more important to keep his breathing clear.

He kept one hand on his face, the other to the wall and tried to feel his way down the hallway with his eye shut.

"Young Master." That was Sebastian's voice!

He felt himself lifted off the ground, and let his handkerchief fall to the floor, much preferring to tuck his face into Sebastian's shoulder and breathe through his clean linen shirt.

He couldn't smell the smoke anymore, only the comforting scent of Sebastian.

He was so caught up in the feeling, it seemed like only seconds from the kitchen to the gardens. Sebastian gently set him back on his feet and Ciel wasn't ready to let go.

He nudged back the fabric with his face, to tuck his head between Sebastian's jacket and shirt, enjoying the warmth and stronger scent. He slid his arms around his butler's waist, going underneath his jacket so he could be wrapped up inside.

Sebastian stared down at his master with an amused smile. Well, well, who's the dog now. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Ciel felt warm, content, safe, feelings he once lost, and now only returned with Sebastian.

"Is Ciel all right? Baldroy says he's sorry about all that!" Finny called, jogging towards the embracing couple.

Ciel abruptly stumbled back, his cheeks flushing, embarrassed at being caught behaving so intimately with his servant.

Sebastian glared at Finny. How could anyone be that clueless?

"What, what did I do? Did I interrupt something important?"

Looking between Finny and Sebastian, a connection appeared in Ciel's mind: Finny stopped leaving toys around the time Sebastian started acting strange. He wanted to dismiss it as coincidence, but with the way his life worked, everything was connected.

"Finny," Ciel ran his fingers through his hair, composing himself. "Is there a reason you stopped leaving me those toys?"

"I knew you liked them!" Finny burst into happy, relieved tears. "I didn't want to stop leaving them, I swear. They made me!"

"They?" Ciel raised an eyebrow and peered over at his butler.

"The staff's harmless attempts at serving you better." Sebastian smiled, but Ciel could tell by the tension in his jaw he was hiding something.

CIel turned back to Finny, staring at him pointedly.

"They said you wanted different things as an adult!!" Finny bawled.

Did his entire household know about his desire for Sebastian?!

Had he been that embarrassingly obvious?

More importantly, had they been plotting to bring it about?

Had that been Sebastian's plan all along?

He felt used, insulted, embarrassed. He gagged and choked, the entire situation turning his stomach.

"My Lord?" Sebastian moved to take his arm, but Ciel shoved him away.

"Don't touch me!" He ran as fast as he could inside, tears already staining his cheeks.

***

Ciel felt like a prisoner in his own home. He refused to leave his room, and spent the evening half-heartedly trying to suffocate himself in 1000 threadcount Egyptian cotton pillows.

Finny felt personally guilty for causing Ciel's mood change and couldn't stop his weeping. Baldroy felt even more guilty for the fire, and for sending Finny outside with the message, and thusly joined his friend in the crying corner. Tanaka, disturbed by all the crying, went to the farthest section of the estate to drink his tea in peace.

Mey Rin, probably the only member of the household continuing their duties that day, swept the front stoop and wondered how to go about informing the staff they had been incorrect of their view of Ciel.

He was already mature.

His so called childish tantrums were not tantrums at all, they had grown from that years ago. What they were now: lover's quarrels! After all, his mood swings were consistently influenced by a certain devilishly handsome butler. And the way Sebastian always carried him: lover's embrace!

Mey Rin swooned and grabbed hold of one of the large marble pillars that lined the staircase. How was everyone blind to this but her?

Meanwhile Sebastian, barred from Ciel's room, found solace in the gardens, petting one of the many stray cats that wandered in. He always kept food and water hidden in the bushes, just in case a poor feline lost its way.

It just so happened to be a lucky coincidence that it lured them in as well.

He cuddled the beautifully striped gray cat and grimly wondered if his progress with Ciel was going to come to a halt. His master's pride had been wounded, a critical function of his character, and he would not recover from it easily.

He gently set the cat back on the grass and gazed forlornly as it dashed away.

It was hours past dinner time. Ciel would be starving. Whenever he got in a dark mood he would obstinately refuse to eat.

Sebastian was not surprised find the dinner tray untouched in front of his door.

"Young Master." He knocked but got no reply. "You dinner has gotten cold. Shall I make you something?"

Still no answer. Had Ciel fallen asleep? He was about to leave his master to rest and start on his own nightly chores when the door creaked open.

"Sebastian." Ciel's voice was weak, tired. He was still in his day clothes, and judging from the dark circle under his eye, he spent the past few hours crying.

Sebastian wondered that his eye patch was still on. The fact that he hadn't removed it meant he had been trying to work up the courage to leave his room, not ready to accept defeat from his day until that moment.

Sebastian couldn't help but smile pitifully at the disheveled state of his master. "This will not do." He shook his head, and urged his lord back into the room. "I'll make you a light meal after I dress you for bed, then I shall make you a wholesome breakfast in the morning." He skimmed his hands across Ciel's chest, coming up over his shoulders to slide his jacket down his arms. Ciel was too tired and famished for their usual careful and elaborate changing process.

"I shall also prepare soothing chamomile." Sebastian went on, walking forward as he unbuttoned Ciel's shirt. "It is said that Julius Caesar himself sipped chamomile tea before bed." Ciel dazedly walked back until his thighs hit the bed.

"I highly doubt that." Ciel yawned, collapsing down onto the mattress and lazily stretching one leg out, then the other, so Sebastian could remove his stockings.

"Many of the herbs that existed back then are still around today, is it so surprising?"

Ciel yawned again, not interested either way, and let Sebastian gently move him to a sitting position.

"This should be much more comfortable." Sebastian stroked his hand across Ciel's face, removing the eye patch, and Ciel felt subdued by his touch.

"What are they saying?" Ciel mumbled, tilting his head back, following Sebastian's face as he leaned over his shoulder to check on his bandages.

Sebastian frowned, pulling back, and moved to fold the discarded clothing on a table to deal with later. "You shouldn't let such trivial matters bother you."

"If my staff is scheming behind my back it should bother me!" Ciel felt a sudden jolt of wakefulness from his anger.

"They were hardly scheming, My Lord. Stopping Finny from giving you his toys was only a misguided attempt at aiding you in maturation."

Sebastian tugged a linen nightshirt over his head, and Ciel angrily thrust his arms through the sleeves.

"So they think I'm immature?! My behavior is not to be judged by them!"

"As I said, trivial matters." Sebastian bowed and excused himself, setting out to prepare tea and a light snack.

Ciel tsked and collapsed back onto the bed in a huff.

Out of all the things to be called. He actually preferred them thinking he wanted Sebastian rather than being thought of as immature. At least the former was true.

He never got to be immature; he was learning how to balance accounts and taking missions from the Queen while other kids his age were begging for the season's latest toy.

It was beyond insulting to say such a thing.

What was maturity anyway? Who decided when you achieved it? Certainly not his servants!

Ciel grumbled profanities and stormed towards his ornately carved writing desk. He usually kept a dictionary and a couple other reference books for when he was writing important letters. After his parents died, his vocabulary hadn't expanded enough to properly correspond with his business partners, and he would use them as aid in composing his official documents. Along with Sebastian, of course.

He took the dictionary and flipped through.

Mature: fully developed physically, full grown.

Ciel winced. He hoped he wasn't fully grown yet. He still wasn't as tall as Sebastian, coming only to his butler's chin without his boots.

Maturation: the action or process of maturing.

In wine or other fermented drink the process of becoming ready for drinking.

What was he, a grape?! He flipped through, determined to find a definition that fit him. He would prove his servants wrong, if not by action then in word!

Maturity: the state, fact, or period of being mature.

In psychology, maturity is the ability to respond to the environment in an appropriate manner.

Ah ha! In this he stood in likeness. He was responding to his environment correctly. Did he not take over the Phantomhive estate and all its responsibilities when he could still count his age on his hands?

He always did what was expected of an Earl. He even remained engaged to Lizzy until she broke it off for a better match. (He hadn't felt disappointed, and he never got to miss her cheerful presence since she visited him often enough.)

Ciel stared at the half lit page, the candle flickering.

Maturity is the ability to respond to the environment in an appropriate manner...

The correct response to your environment is whatever most benefits yourself. By that definition, he matured the day he summoned Sebastian.

He was the only child to make it out of that room alive. It was the decision that changed the course of his life, and he did it for himself.

What was maturity then, but being true to yourself?

"My Lord." Sebastian knocked and entered with the tray, setting it on a table by the window. "Light reading?" Sebastian teased, seeing the open dictionary in Ciel's hands.

Ciel hmphed and tossed the book onto the floor.

"Well, that's not very mature." Sebastian replied with a straight face, kneeling to retrieve the discarded book and place it back upon the desk.

Sebastian turned, the moonlight casting a shadow on his alluring figure. In that moment, Ciel knew he had been true to himself in all ways but one.

He took a deep, savoring breath and moved into Sebastian's space. Ciel had meant to rest his hands on Sebastian's waist invitingly, but he was so anxious, his hands nervously bunched in the fabric of Sebastian's jacket.

The movement was pleading and helpless, not at all confident and suave like he was going for. Ciel mentally cursed himself and tried to qualm his nerves.

"Sebastian." He gazed up at his demon butler, blushing.

Sebastian hesitated, staring down at Ciel with an unreadable expression. The closest Ciel could place the look was when Sebastian was about to handle a difficult task. It was similar to his considering "What shall I do about this?" face.

For a moment Ciel doubted himself. That was definitely not the way he wanted Sebastian to be looking at him. Then his butler grinned, wide, devious.

Sebastian sensuously removed a single white glove with his teeth, enjoying the way Ciel avidly tracked the movement with his eyes. He had only planned on removing one, but with Ciel's anticipatory gaze, he bit down on the other.

Ciel could feel his heart erratically pounding in his chest, his palms sweating. The prolonged anticipation was almost unbearable. He licked his dry lips, wetting them.

Sebastian finally touched Ciel's face, his thumbs softly brushing his master's cheekbones. Ciel could feel Sebastian's breath hot upon his lips, sending tingles through every inch of his body. His eyes languidly closed and he tilted his chin ever so slightly in invitation.

Why had he fought this for so long? Ciel wondered, before -

"Oh, is the young master in need of comfort?" Sebastian cooed, abruptly squeezing and pulling his cheeks as if he was twelve again.

"Really?!!" Ciel shoved him back as hard as he could, seething, his mind a racing combination of anger and mortification. That was low, even for a demon.

Sebastian stumbled a few feet, his back hitting the writing desk.

He recovered unfazed and grinning.

"Sebastian!!" Ciel spat his name like a curse, his heart hammering foolishly in his chest.

He had battled his way through an emotional crisis, come to terms with his feelings, and, this, this was what he got for it?!

Ciel tightened his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

After everything, everything, Sebastian was still teasing him. He squeezed his eyes shut, not needing to look to know Sebastian was still grinning.

Ciel's hand flew up, ready to slap the smile off his face when Sebastian swiftly caught his wrist.

"Have you forgotten, My Lord?" Sebastian slid his fingers across Ciel's palm, forcing open his still clenched fist, and lacing their fingers together. "The world does not owe you anything." He reached his arm around Ciel's waist, pulling him close to his chest. "Whatever you desire," he whispered, his voice low, seductive, his lips on Ciel's cheek, "you must take it yourself."

Of course.

Ciel squeezed Sebastian's hand and swayed forward, leaning him against the desk. With a renewed determination Ciel raised one knee to the furniture, pinning Sebastian in and using it to gain more height.

Sebastian titled his head to gaze up at his master, a faint smile still on his lips. Ciel's actions were better than he could've ever hoped.

This-- no, Ciel Phantomhive was a soul truly worthy of desire.

Ciel dropped Sebastian's hand to trail his fingers down his face, letting them rest on the sculptured lines of his jaw. His eyes flickered across Sebastian's features, taking in the beautiful glow of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, the way the moonlight danced across his skin.

Unable to deny himself a moment longer, Ciel claimed Sebastian's mouth. Years of pent up longing escaped with a hungry passion, and Sebastian joyfully succumbed to the forceful domination of his lips.

At last, Ciel knew what he wanted from Sebastian.

Absolutely everything.

Thorny road(Book of Circus)

Aliosera

Summary:

9-year-old Allen who just witnessed his father's death twice decided to fulfill his father's last request.

"Move forward," He said while giving him that curse.

However, life for a white-haired boy with red hideous arm and ugly scar is hard. Fortunately, he found a place he can belong in disabled kids. And this time no one will take his family away, not Lord Baron or Queen's guard dog.

Crossover between Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler: Book of Circus and D.Gray-man

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own D.Gray-man or Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler: Book of Circus

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Act 0 - Silver boy, a deal with unknown lord

Chapter Text

The rain was falling softly like the sky was shedding tears for the man who just died twice. And Allen didn't know if it was the raindrop that is going down following his cheek or if it was the blood that is bleeding from the wound he received from Mana or if it was his tears that is kissing his cheek. Everything was numb to him. It's like he just lost all the light that was shining upon him. And now all that is left is darkness. He wondered if the god hated him. First, he was sold to that circus by his parents, parents who gave birth to him. Then he suffered at the hand of cruel ringleader and that violent clown Cosimo. But Mana saved him, Mana gave him food, Mana gave him home and Mana loved him. Mana ......

Allen began sobbing. All the feelings, all the emotions finally hit him. He wanted to curse the world, curse God, curse everything. But Mana wouldn't want that. He told me to

"Move forward"

Yes. I will live and will only move forward.

[metagalacticx]

mason hewitt ❀ ₊⁻∘･ professor

[white-tulips]

Whoops i tried sending an ask previously but i encountered an error so im trying sending it again, sorry if you recieved it twice! I meant to ask about the whole deal with the White egret orchids symbolism. Whose thoughts are following whose dreams? Why are they Mari's flowers, and what's their purpose in Basil's grandma bedroom? Also what's the meaning of the Basil's hope ringer shirt? I find it all quite confusing, but maybe it's easier than that and im just not seeing it?

I think basil knows about the orchid symbolism though, after all he's a flower expert, he might have read in one of his books that those flowers can help you communicate or opening a path with a loved one, who's distant (sunny) unresponsive (grandma) or even dead (mari)... That was my idea but Im not sure anymore really

admittedly, I'm not very good at interpreting symbolism and finding meaning in certain things. I was trying to research white egret orchids to see if it could help me answer this but man, it was actually kind of difficult to find information on the flower language for it. what I did find out is that the meaning of "my thoughts will follow you into your dreams" is specifically from Japanese flower language (if what I found was correct); I'm really not that knowledgeable about flower language at all and I feel like every time I try to do research about it there's always different information everywhere jfhgjfhg so I don't know about the rest of the flowers in the game, if they're based on American flower language or not. anyways, I just thought that was interesting

when you say they're "Mari's flowers" I'm assuming you mean because they were shown surrounding her in her casket? I don't think associating them specifically with Mari is technically correct though, because I think they're a flower associated with Basil (hence the t-shirt). since the flowers surrounding Mari was in Sunny's dream (and a cg during Final Duet, but I always took that as representing said dream,) I've always interpreted that imagery as being more aesthetic/symbolic rather than literal. not to mention, while I was researching I found that these orchids are intensive to grow and care for, and are a little rare so I think having so many of them to fill a casket is a little unrealistic (not to say it couldn't be taken literally bc it's fiction and w/e but, I personally do think it's more symbolic)

the reason it's in Basil's grandma's bedroom is because Basil put it there, and since they also appear by Mari's grave, and at the lake, it can be concluded that Basil is leaving them there too. if we think about the flower language, I think it's clearly because he wants his thoughts- his hopes, his wishes, his regrets- to be heard by the people he loves. I'm not good with words but in my research I did find this blog post that described it in a way that I think really gets the sentiment across: "of waking ideas and things invading dreams, stable, sure things becoming evanescent and haunting, from established objects to transient shadows that cannot really be grasped, but stay with you."

and I think Basil's thoughts do seep into Sunny's dreams as well. that's why I think there are so many of the orchids present like surrounding Mari's casket and being all over the Lost Library. and while writing this I remembered this Stranger line too-

"My problems... my hopes... my dreams... You knew them all. So if you're still there... Please let my words reach you one more time."

whether there is some supernatural quality to these flowers or if it's all symbolic, whether Basil is aware of it or not, I think his thoughts are reaching Sunny, and hopefully his grandma, and hopefully even Mari too. this is why I think the t-shirt is called "Basil's Hope," because white egret orchids are like a manifestation of everything he's hoping for, and wanting to say but isn't able to

[lulu-zodiac]

Hidden in Plain Sight

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Jeremy Bradshaw

Tags: Early seasons Dean, pre-podcast Professor Bradshaw, denial, unresolved sexual tension, bickering, smut, gratuitous owl references, case fic

Summary: It's the fall of 2006, and a string of grisly deaths linked to local lore brings Sam and Dean to the village of Bridgewater. There, Dean finds himself working closely with the frustrating and unexpectedly compelling Professor Bradshaw.

---

Dean feels about as comfortable in old colleges as he does in churches. There’s the same sense of exclusivity, that same reverence of things Dean has spent his life stuck on wrong side of. This campus even feels a little like a church, with its old architecture and sprawling ruby ivy and slit windows like narrowed eyes. His footfalls echo heavily along the cold stone corridor, making him feel uncomfortably aware of his own existence.

The door he’s looking for is old and made of oak, nestled in an alcove near the staircase, with a small plaque on it that reads Professor J Bradshaw.

Dean pauses for a moment, then knocks abruptly, suddenly noticing his knuckles are still smudged with earth. From within, a muffled voice instructs him to enter, and he does so, wiping his hand surreptitiously against the side of his leather jacket.

The first thing that hits him is the sheer volume of books in the room; they clutter every available surface, piled high in front of the big bay window like a strange line of defense. There are stacks of loose papers everywhere too, haphazard but clearly organized, some held in place by empty coffee mugs or odd-looking artefacts. The air is bright and warm, like this room catches the sun when it’s slow and mellow in the afternoons.

The second thing that hits him is the man sitting at the desk.

He doesn’t look up at Dean’s entrance, continuing to scribble away in a leather-bound notebook with intent dexterity, seemingly utterly lost in his own thoughts. He’s not what Dean expected; surprisingly young, maybe approaching forty, with a sharp jaw and tousled hair that just brushes his broad shoulders. When Dean clears his throat awkwardly, the man finally looks up with striking blue eyes that immediately pin Dean in place.

“Yes?” his voice is inquiring and several octaves deeper than Dean would have imagined, low and gravelly. He sets down his pen, looking at Dean with piercing focus.

“Uh – hey. Professor Bradshaw?” Dean feels distinctly self-conscious.

“Who wants to know?” the man closes his notebook with a snap and stands with surprisingly fluid ease, eyes still intent on Dean as though he’s cataloguing him.

He’s wearing a faded navy-blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up, slightly crumpled shirt tails poking out at the hem, just visible.

Drawing on years of sizing people up, Dean guesses that the guy probably has no one to go home to at night. If he goes home much at all, that is; the office has a distinctly lived-in look. It’s strangely reminiscent of the makeshift home feel of the impala’s interior.

“Um – Dean. Dean Collins,” Dean answers hastily, suddenly realizing he’s spent a little too long looking. “I’m uh – a student in one of your classes,” he lies the best way he knows how: with a charming smile. “I was wondering if you’ve got a moment? I was hoping to ask you a couple of questions about your work.”

“Come in, please,” Professor Bradshaw sits back down behind his desk, and gestures for Dean to close the door. “Take a seat.”

“Thanks,” Dean shuts the door and awkwardly removes three hardback books and a small, slightly drooping fern from the only available seat in front of Professor Bradshaw’s desk.

“Sorry – let me –” Professor Bradshaw leans over the desk to relieve Dean of the books and the plant. Close up, Dean can see faint lines softening the corners of his vivid eyes, and when he breathes in, he catches a hint of peppermint and the musk of warm skin, strangely compelling. Their hands brush for a moment as Professor Bradshaw takes the items, and Dean flinches, jerking away and planting himself firmly on the chair.

“So – Dean, yes?” Professor Bradshaw settles back into his seat. He’s still looking intently at Dean, gaze startlingly blue.

Wordlessly, Dean nods. He doesn’t know why he can feel the heat creeping up his cheeks.

“You’re not in any of my classes, Dean,” Professor Bradshaw says, with a slight edge to his voice. He reaches for a half-drunk mug of tea on his desk, expression skeptical.

Dean feels his stomach drop. “Uh, yeah – I’m new, just transferred a couple weeks back,” he bluffs quickly, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. He feels strangely flustered, visible.

“No, I don’t think so,” Professor Bradshaw says, flatly. “I believe I would have noticed,” he adds, wryly, with a kind of impatient warmth in his expression that makes Dean’s cheeks flare with heat all over again. Professor Bradshaw merely swallows a mouthful of tea and sets the mug back down, still looking at Dean. “So. Who are you?”

“Alright,” Dean puts his hands up in mock-surrender, smiling wide even though he feels stupidly on edge, knocked off course. “You got me. I’m – uh – a journalist. My boss has me writing a piece on local legends, and I was hoping to pick your brains. Heard you’re the expert on all that stuff around here, and thought I might be in with a better chance of talking to you as a student instead of some annoying reporter.”

“I see,” Professor Bradshaw leans back in his chair, contemplative. A shaft of sunlight filters through the bay window behind him, illuminating a hint of tawny in his dark, untidy hair. Dust motes hang everywhere like suspended snow. “Well, luckily for you, Dean, I find that my students can be just as annoying as reporters. And I still talk to them on a daily basis.”

Dean grins a little awkwardly, “Yeah?”

“Of course, I do get paid to do that,” Professor Bradshaw adds, dryly. “But perhaps I do them a disservice. Some of them are really quite inspiring.” He pauses, raising his mug to his lips. It has an owl on it, Dean notices absently. An overly fluffy one, with a slightly threatening glare. “I daresay I can spare five minutes. What is it that I can do for you, Dean?”

“Uh, so you study the supernatural, right?” Dean asks, clumsily. His hands are sweating where they’re shoved in the pockets of his jacket. “Ghosts and demons and all that shit?”

“I study the lore and mythology of supernatural beings, and why it’s important to humans to create such stories,” Professor Bradshaw clarifies, shortly.

“Right, got it,” Dean agrees, hastily. “But you’d know a bit about the Bridgewater coven?”

“I am familiar with the legends, yes,” Professor Bradshaw replies, reaching for his mug again. There’s an ink stain on the side of his index finger, smudged deep blue. Dean fleetingly wonders if it would rub off easily if he touched it, if it would leave a ghostly imprint on his own skin.

“Yeah – uh – so there’s been quite a lot of interest in the coven recently,” Dean blusters, annoyed with himself for how stupidly flustered he feels, “You know, since those bodies were found last week? At the burial site in Bridgewater Forest that’s associated with the legend? Yeah. Well, anyway, I was – hoping you might be able to tell me a little more about the legend of the coven.”

“I don’t see what the recent tragedies could possibly have to do with the legend,” Professor Bradshaw narrows his eyes skeptically.

“Right – yeah – nothing, I’m sure,” Dean lies hastily, “But the location of the crimes has definitely raised awareness about the existence of the legend, and that’s what we really want to provide for our readers.”

“Well, certainly, I can tell you the history,” Professor Bradshaw replies, briskly, “In fact, I teach an undergrad course on witchcraft in history and my lecture this Wednesday actually covers the legend of the coven. If you want a more detailed, nuanced version, you’re more than welcome to come along then – it’s at 11am in the Milton building. But I’m happy to give you the short version now, if that would be helpful?”

“Thanks – yeah, that’d be great,” Dean says, gratefully. “On a bit of a tight schedule today.”

“Well, the local legend about the Bridgewater coven has existed for almost two hundred years,” Professor Bradshaw starts, and immediately Dean can picture him talking in front of a lecture theatre full of kids. He’s a natural, something inherently captivating about the way he speaks. “In the 1800s, this village was an important site of religious pilgrimage. However, according to the legend, the village was also home to a small coven lead by a witch named Iris. Iris’s coven was said to have lived in secrecy in the forest on the outskirts of Bridgewater for years, and not to have troubled the village people. However, by 1816, the legend claims the coven had become very hostile, specifically towards the church. There were fears the coven had begun indoctrinating – or bewitching – members of the congregation.”

Professor Bradshaw pauses, swallowing another mouthful of tea. The muscles in his throat work, drawing Dean’s attention to the way his pale blue shirt isn’t buttoned up properly. He’s filled with the sudden, inexplicable urge to button it up correctly.

“More and more people started disappearing in connection with the coven,” Professor Bradshaw continues, setting his mug back down on the desk, and Dean jerks his gaze guiltily away from the line of his throat, clenching his hands into fists inside the pockets of his leather jacket. “The rapidly diminishing congregation lived in terror. The remaining members of the church all turned against each other. Then, at the height of local hysteria, Iris is said to have murdered Blanche, the minister’s daughter, in what is portrayed in the lore as some kind of statement of the coven’s power over the church.”

“Bet that didn’t go down too well,” Dean remarks, sardonically.

“Quite,” Professor Bradshaw catches Dean’s eye, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Anyway, according to the legend, the tragedy of Blanche’s death united the warring members of the congregation. They captured Iris and entombed her alive, using her own magic against her to keep her trapped. Iris’s death broke the spell on the members of the congregation who’d been indoctrinated against their will, and peace was restored to the village. The few remaining members of the original coven fled and were never seen again.”

“Wow,” Dean raises his eyebrows, “Very love-thy-neighbor.”

Professor Bradshaw snorts, “Yes. Religious leaders in the 1800s were renowned for sitting down and resolving their problems through compassionate discussion,” he remarks, dryly.

“Okay, but what about the other versions of the legend?” Dean asks, trying to remember the things Sam had told him to ask about, but drawing a total blank. His brain feels weirdly scrambled. It’s hard to remember what happened before walking into Professor Bradshaw’s office. “The other stories about the coven I’ve come across so far all seem pretty different.”

Professor Bradshaw frowns slightly. “It’s true, there are many conflicting accounts. Which is often the case with legends, being human constructions of the past,” he regards Dean slightly disapprovingly over the rim of his owl mug, a kind of skeptical stubbornness in the set of his mouth. “It’s not about knowing which ‘to believe’ – it’s about looking at why historically people have favored one version over the other and what that tells us about them.”

“Right, yeah, but aren’t legends often based on fact?” Dean pushes.

Professor Bradshaw pauses, contemplatively, “Yes. That’s certainly true in some cases.”

“Do you think it’s the case in this one?”

“Possibly,” Professor Bradshaw replies, haltingly. His expression is serious and he hesitates for a moment before elaborating; “In fact, I’m currently writing a paper about the historical figures who feature in the legend of the Bridgewater coven.”

“Yeah? Which ones?” Dean presses. He’s used to having to fake interest to get information out of people like Professor Bradshaw, but for once, he finds he’s genuinely interested. There’s something compelling about Professor Bradshaw’s evidently obsessive quest for obscure answers, something that resonates with all too much familiarity.

“Iris, predominantly,” Professor Bradshaw replies. “I’m very interested in the historical reasons women were condemned as witches. Often, it’s as simple as jilted male lovers using accusations of witchcraft as a means of revenge, or the women using herbal remedies that threatened contemporary male ideas of medicine and the body. Sometimes it’s to do with female homosexuality and society’s unacceptance of same sex relationships or women as sexual beings. Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for gay men to be condemned for witchcraft either. But statistically, more homosexual women died as a result of such accusations.”

“Uh – right –” Dean swallows, looking away. His hands are sweating again, and he wipes them surreptitiously on the insides of his pockets. Clearing his throat, he changes the subject, suddenly remembering the other thing Sam had told him to ask Professor Bradshaw about, “What about the runes?”

“Ah yes, the runes on Iris’s supposed tomb,” Professor Bradshaw’s gaze is suddenly inscrutable in a way that makes Dean’s heart thud uncomfortably in his chest. It sweeps over Dean, lingering and unnervingly blue for a moment, before he continues, “Very interesting. I’ve been studying them a great deal as part of my research. The true nature of them has always remained a mystery, and any attempts to discern their meaning haven’t fitted with the legend at all. I believe they may be key to understanding the history behind the creation of the legend. But,” he smiles, wryly, “It’s not an easy task. They’re unlike any runes I’ve come across anywhere else before.”

“Can I see?” Dean asks, partly out of interest, and partly for some way of distracting himself from the way his heart is still thumping uncomfortably fast.

“You’d have to visit the forest burial site to see them in person, but I do have a couple of sketches of the lines I’m working on at the moment,” Professor Bradshaw gets to his feet and crosses to the cabinet by the window, pulling the top drawer open.

The fall chestnut trees outside smolder amber behind his silhouette, midday sunshine pale gold and still where it filters through the window. Time seems strangely irrelevant. Dean watches as Professor Bradshaw flicks through a green binder, fingers quick and dexterous, skilled and uncalloused in a way Dean’s have never had the chance to be.

Dean swallows and looks away, ignoring the thud of his heart as he stares around at the rest of the room. He clocks a bunch of compendiums of mythology on the bookcase nearest him, and two other eccentric and slightly neglected looking plants. There’s a thick plaid rug on the couch in the corner, not quite concealing a plate of half-eaten toast. On the windowsill, there’s a little tin mug with a toothbrush in it that makes Dean wonder again just how often Professor Bradshaw goes home at all. He finds himself wondering whether Professor Bradshaw has always had nothing but an empty house to return to, or whether that’s a more recent development. He’s definitely old enough to be going through a divorce. The thought sits uncomfortably in Dean’s chest for reasons he doesn’t particularly want to identify.

“Here we are.” Professor Bradshaw’s gravelly voice, suddenly much closer, makes Dean jump. He glances around to find Professor Bradshaw standing beside him, holding out a sheet of paper. The smell of warm skin and peppermint catches Dean off guard, stronger this time, and still strangely compelling.

“Uh – thanks,” Dean says awkwardly, taking the proffered page. He feels Professor Bradshaw’s fingers brush against his fleetingly, warm and ink-stained.

Dean swallows, forcing himself to focus on the page in front of him even though his cheeks are hot with something he doesn’t want to think about. The sketches are good, a few strange vaguely Norse reminiscent symbols drawn hastily with accompanying, scrawled notes in the margins. There’s something about the runes that niggles at Dean’s brain, familiar and unfamiliar all at once, like something he’s known his whole life but can’t put his finger on.

“These are interesting,” Dean he frowns, tracing his finger along the two last symbols.

When he glances up, he finds Professor Bradshaw looking at him intently, blue eyes inscrutable. “Yes,” he says, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms across his chest. “Those are the ones which struck me too,” he’s speaking a little quieter, low voice distracting Dean from why the runes are so familiar. He hopes he can remember them, that Sam will be able to place what he can’t about them.

“So, uh, this tomb. The one with the runes on it – that’s definitely where that guy’s body was found last week? It wasn’t just nearby or something?” Dean forces himself to ask, ignoring the way his heart is suddenly thumping again. “And the girl found the week before – she was directly linked to the burial site too?”

Professor Bradshaw clears his throat, unfolding his arms. “I believe so, yes.”

“And that doesn’t seem – I don’t know – a little strange, to you?”

“Human beings committing violent acts against each other is generally something I find a little strange,” Professor Bradshaw replies, in clipped tones. “But beyond that – no. Now –” he breaks off, glancing at his watch. “I’m afraid I have a seminar to deliver in ten minutes,” he confesses, and there’s something unfinished about the way he says it, something almost reluctant. Like he half wants to stay here talking with Dean.

“No problem,” Dean stands, and takes a last glance at the sketches before handing them back, trying to commit them to memory. “Thanks, Professor.”

Their eyes meet as Professor Bradshaw accepts the page, and the room suddenly feels very airless, a pause suspended between them. Neither of them moves away.

This close, Dean can see miniscule flecks of grey like tiny stars lost in blue of Professor Bradshaw’s eyes, the way that his full lips are slightly chapped, like maybe he worries them between his teeth when he’s thinking. They’re soft pink and warm-looking, and Dean wonders fleetingly if they taste like peppermint tea.

“It was nice meeting you, Dean,” Professor Bradshaw says, gently, and his eyes are so blue.

“Uh – yeah – you too. Thanks. I’d – uh – I’d better get going,” Dean stammers, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and cursing the way his cheeks are suddenly flaming with heat. His thoughts churn unsteadily; he ignores them the way he’s learnt to.

Still feeling strangely wound-up, he nods awkwardly at Professor Bradshaw and turns reluctantly towards the door.

“Wait a moment, Dean –” Professor Bradshaw’s voice halts Dean in his tracks as he reaches the door, and Dean turns expectantly, heat thumping a little painfully.

“Yeah?”

“Here – you’re welcome to borrow a couple of books on local history,” Professor Bradshaw is pulling a couple of books down from the overflowing cabinet by the window. “They should have a bit more about the legend of the coven that you might find interesting. Divergences of the legend and so forth. I’ll need them back by Thursday morning as I’m teaching a class on them in the afternoon, but you’re welcome to borrow them until then if they’d be helpful.”

“You sure?” Dean takes the proffered books awkwardly, and swallows the strange disappointment sinks in him like a stone as Professor Bradshaw steps back again. “Thanks.”

“As I said, I’m also giving a lecture on Wednesday where I’ll be examining the history behind the legend of the coven. I meant what I said - you’d be more than welcome to attend,” Professor Bradshaw says, sincerely. His eyes are intent, and there’s a hint of something almost like hopefulness hidden in the depths of his gravelly voice. Working on long ingrained instinct, Dean chooses to ignore it.

“Thanks, I’ll – I’ll see what my schedule’s like,” Dean replies, haltingly.

“Of course,” Professor Bradshaw agrees. He turns back to his desk.

“Can I ask –” Dean pauses, watching Professor Bradshaw stuff another notebook and a stack of handouts into his briefcase. “You said you’re writing a paper about the runes at the forest burial site– do you go to there much?”

Professor Bradshaw glances up, distractedly. “Yes, I spend time there every week.”

“So you haven’t noticed anything – I don’t know – anything unusual when you’ve been there recently?” Dean ventures.

“Unusual how?” Professor Bradshaw closes his briefcase with a snap and looks up at Dean properly, eyes narrowed with sudden skepticism. It’s stronger than the hints Dean has caught at other points during their conversation, sharp and blue, a world away from the observant warmth of a few moments ago.

“I dunno – odd noises, sudden drops in temperature, shadows –”

“Just what are you asking me?” Professor Bradshaw demands, voice clipped and defensive.

“Have you seen anything like that?” Dean presses, stubbornly. Irritation prickles his skin.

“No, I haven’t,” Professor Bradshaw says, bluntly. “And you know why? Because yes, I study the supernatural – but it’s not real, Dean. I don’t know what kind of sensational article you’re writing about local lore, but I can assure you, lore is all it is.” He winds a striped scarf haphazardly around his neck, and grabs his briefcase off the desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to teach.”

-

Sam is eating some gross looking granola yoghurt pot with a plastic spoon when Dean eventually clambers back into the car, feeling distinctly frustrated.

“You took your time,” he remarks idly, raising an eyebrow as Dean adjusts the mirror with an unnecessary amount of force and turns on the ignition.

“Goddamn waste of time was what it was,” Dean mutters mutinously, pulling out of the space and then immediately being forced to hit the brakes when a cluster of students cross the parking lot in front of him. He grinds his teeth and resists the urge to honk the horn. “Thought I was getting somewhere but he completely shut down the minute I asked him if he’d noticed anything weird at the burial site.”

“Suspicious?” Sam frowns, through a mouthful of granola.

“No, don’t think so. Just really damn touchy,” Dean drums his fingers impatiently against the wheel as he waits for the students to move, “And a bit of an asshole. I dunno, suppose working in his field he’s probably used to people thinking he’s just some lunatic who believes in the supernatural.”

“And does he?”

Dean snorts. “No way. He’s got a real bee in his bonnet about it. You’d think someone who’s spent the last twenty years with their head buried in books about ghosts and covens and demonic possession might be a little more open to the idea,” he shrugs, and gives in to the temptation to lean on the horn, reveling in the brief satisfaction of making the students jump and scurry out of the way, “But no. The guy’s absolutely blind to it all, and could rival you on stubbornness.”

Sam purses his mouth in annoyance, but doesn’t rise to the bait. “Get anything useful at all?”

“He did lend me a couple books,” Dean admits, nodding in the direction of the backseat. “Have to take them back on Thursday morning, though. He needs them for some class.”

“He leant you his books?” Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs, skin prickling in annoyance, “What of it?”

“Dunno, that’s just,” Sam swallows a mouthful of yoghurt, “Pretty trusting. Academics usually treat their books as if they’re their first borns.”

“Don’t mess them up when you read them, then,” Dean says, dismissively, as they pull out onto the main street. “You find out anything useful about the victims?”

“Not really,” Sam leans back in his seat with a sigh, “Both from middle class, religious families. Seem to have been pretty well liked by people. Hard to establish any link more than that. The wife of the guy that was killed last week seemed a bit cagey, though,” he shrugs, “Might be worth a second visit to see if she’s holding out on us about something.”

“Right,” Dean drums his fingers impatiently against the wheel as they wait for a light to change. It’s starting to drizzle, tiny flecks of grey hitting the windshield. “Are we still definitely thinking ghost?”

“Seems like it,” Sam affirms, “The way the victims died definitely points to a vengeful spirit. But the place they were killed – connected to the burial site associated with the coven? I don’t know, I was thinking maybe it’s no ordinary ghost. Maybe it’s the vengeful spirit of a witch, and that’s why it’s so powerful?”

“Hm,” Dean mulls it over, flicking the windscreen wipers on as they continue to wait. They squeak slightly, repetitive and familiar. “You could be onto something there.”

“Yeah?”

“Professor Bradshaw was telling me about the local legend of the coven. Apparently, its leader was entombed alive by a bunch of angry churchgoers,” Dean steps on the accelerator as the light finally changes, and the rain-slicked village slides past in a blur. “That’s got to be some pretty good vengeful spirit material right there. And you said the victims were both religious, right? Can’t be a coincidence.”

“Why now, though?” Sam frowns. “It’s been what – two hundred years? There must have been plenty of churchgoers who walked by the burial site before now.”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugs, staring out at the rainy smudge of fall colors. The chestnuts trees lining the street are the same smoldering hue of amber as the one outside Professor Bradshaw’s window.

They drive in silence for a few moments, wipers squeaking.

“Okay,” Sam says, at length, “So I’m thinking – we go check into a motel, get through as much of these books from your professor as we can while we wait for the rain to stop, and then check out the burial site later this afternoon before it gets dark?” Sam asks, chucking his plastic spoon in the empty yoghurt container.

“He’s not ‘my professor’,” Dean says defensively, and suddenly has to step a little too hard on the breaks to avoid running a red light.

“Alright,” Sam says, slowly. “Okay.”

“Anyway, yeah,” Dean blusters, hastily, ignoring the weight of Sam’s gaze on the side of his face, “Works for me. But first,” he flicks on the indicator and pulls into a space near a little line of local shops. “Food. Not that yoghurty shit you’ve been eating. Real food.”

-

The forest is steeped in quiet in the way all ancient places are, fall singing the leaves on the gnarled branches that claw their way towards the fading gold of the late afternoon sun. Dean breathes in the wet, cloying smell of moss and follows Sam’s careful path through the trees. There’s a chill in the air, but the handle of Dean’s blade is hot in the palm of his hand.

“How much further to this place?” he hisses at Sam’s back, swatting a frond of bracken out of his face and casting his gaze edgily through the twisting branches and burnt amber.

“Nearly there, according to –” Sam stops so abruptly that Dean nearly collides with him, throwing out a cautionary arm.

“What?” Dean whispers urgently, instantly drawing his blade. His heart is racing now, whole body tense, coiled, ready to attack. His gaze flickers rapidly through the mess of branches and he stands on his tiptoes, trying to see past Sam’s stupidly large frame. “Sammy,” he hisses, impatiently, when Sam doesn’t immediately answer, “What is it?”

“There’s something there,” Sam breathes, almost inaudible. His posture is still, alert. Dean can see Sam’s hold on the gun in his back pocket tighten.

“What kind of something?” Dean whispers, craning his neck to try and see. The light seems somehow dimmer already, the fading sun sliding further towards the ground. When he breathes in, the smell of wet leaves is stronger, now that they’re in the heart of the forest. His heart is thrumming so fast but everything else feels suspended in time, unnaturally still.

“I think it’s a person,” Sam murmurs, and somewhere close, Dean hears the brittle rustle of dead leaves, loud and unnerving in the wooded quiet. He watches the quickened rise and fall of Sam’s shoulders as his breathing suddenly sharpens. “They’re holding something. They – shit, Dean, they’re coming this way.”

Dean reacts immediately and on nearly twenty years of protective instinct; he shoves Sam out of the way and stumbles out into the clearing, blade brandished in front of him.

---

[princecharmingwinks]

i cant believe you said you dont write for fandoms!! these are ending up AMAZING! have another fail date for you to make better: we went four-wheel driving over the dunes out bush, we took my car but he drove because he's done the route before. we were the second car in the convoy and because my car is a little smaller than the others it couldnt make it up the last dune! it nearly made it over before sliding back into the sand and ended up half buried! (1/2)

(2/2) the rest of the group had to drag and push us out with planks and chains etc while we were stuck inside because no way in hell i was opening the door to let the sand in! so three wheels in the sand, waiting on our rescue, irl it was a bit awkward but im hoping you'll rewrite a better ending <3

Awww concussed dragon, you are sooo sweet! Thank you! Your unique failed dates are great to work with. Alrighty, let's get into this one! So the pack got big in this one and while most don't have lines, I liked the idea of everyone being there (or almost for anyone I missed haha). I left some of the couple combos up to interpretation so feel free to ship at your leisure.

---

The pack, after much pestering from a certain human/spark, were finally going on their camping trip. The alpha had finally conceded when Stiles had shot him a pout and hopeful eyes. Derek had reluctantly agreed and ignored the snickering of his betas in the corner of the room.

On the morning of the trip, everyone was pairing up into groups of drivers and passengers so no one drove alone and there were less cars.

Derek and Stiles were the last members out of the rebuilt Hale House. Derek had been locking up and Stiles was finishing off some wards to ensure there were no unwanted visitors while they were away. He was still learning to harness his spark but small wards of protection were easy enough. Defensive magic was easier, offensive was another story.

Stiles threw his bag into the back of the jeep and glanced around.

"So, who's joining Roscoe and me?"

Erica snickered, "Derek."

"What?" Stiles and Derek snapped in unison. Well at least Stiles had a punctuation mark, Derek's not so much.

"I'm with Danny, Lydia and Jacks." Kira spoke up. "Scott, Malia, and Isaac are with Allison."

"I'm obviously with my boy." Erica jumped onto Boyd's back, who was used to his girlfriend's antics and easily caught her. "And Theo is meeting us there after picking up Liam from work. Everyone's paired up so that just leaves you two."

Stiles felt his heart flutter but managed to keep his voice even as he spoke, "Alright Alpha My Alpha, let's get going."

Derek didn't say a word as he slid into the passenger seat of the jeep. Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine. Stiles was definitely going through a quarter life crisis at the realisation most of the pack were in couples. How did he not realise that? When had it become a prerequisite to start dating a pack member? And now it was just Stiles and the alpha. The alpha he had been in love with for years. Great...

"What's wrong?"

Stiles was pulled out of his internal panic by said alpha's soothing voice. Derek had softened over the years, showing care and concern for each member of the pack. He now bought scent-free nail polish for Erica (so the acid smell didn't upset all the were's noses), stocked Isaac's favourite gummybears and even hugged Kira willingly at her university graduation. Derek Hale was a softie.

"I'm fine, nothing wrong here, no sir." Stiles prattled. Even he heard the blatant lies without supernatural healing. He glanced to his side and was greeted by raised eyebrows.

"Ok, so I may have just realised how paired up everyone in the pack really is."

"Except us."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. "Except us. Do you ever think about that? Like, why you haven't dated anyone since..." He trailed off. Derek didn't have the best track record for his love interests but he hadn't even been on a date for more than 3 years.

Derek looked out the window at the scenary, they were driving into the sand dune part of the journey, and for a moment Stiles thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I've been waiting."

Stiles blinked. Huh?

"For someone so smart, you're really clueless sometimes." Derek huffed, glancing back at Stiles.

"What have you been waiting for?" Stiles dared to ask. They had paused to allow Allison's four-wheel-drive to roll up the last sand dune, waiting for their turn. Roscoe would be the last time to make the climb.

"I thought it was my imagination at first but then you kept coming around and..."

It was Roscoe's turn now and Stiles slowly prepared for the final climb of the dune. He tried to keep focused on the task at hand, allowing Derek to speak his thoughts. You never rushed the alpha when he was being vulnerable.

"I know you kind of like me?" Derek voiced it as a question but all Stiles heard was sirens in his brain. Derek knew? Stiles' foot slid off the peddle and they immediately started rolling backwards, fast.

"Shit! Shit, shit shit." Stiles acted quickly but it wasn't enough. Roscoe descended the sand dune and sank, refusing to move. Sand on either side of them blocked the bottom of their doors. They were officially stuck.

Stiles rested his head on the steering wheel and slowed his breathing. There were multiple crises going on but most had solutions.

The others would work out they hadn't made the climb soon enough or Theo and Liam would find them on their way through. So either way, Roscoe being stuck wasn't a massive deal. The real dilemma was Stiles' outed feelings for Derek.

The same Derek that was eyeing Stiles with concern as he called Kira to request some assist. Stiles heard him hang up before the sound of a door handle being jiggled. He snapped his head up.

"Whoa there sourwolf, there is to be no sand storm in this car, thankyouverymuch." He reached out and tugged the alpha's hand away from the door.

"I figured me getting out and pushing was the preferred option to sitting here with you in a state of panic at my assumption."

Stiles pulled his hand back. "What?"

"Look, we can just forget I ever said anything, alright? I get I'm not the most desirable crush to have. It's probably just familiarity and your sense of loyalty that's fueled your scent around me anyway. Don't worry about it."

Stiles shook his head, "Oh no you don't. You opened that can of worms and I'm no coward." The spark met Derek's gaze. Had he been planning on ignoring his feelings for the alpha? Sure. But was he going to run away from a moment like this? Nope. Stiles Stilinski was a lot of things but after running with wolves and other supernaturals for most of his life, he knew when he needed to tackle something head on.

"Now, before you go down your rabbit hole of I'm-not-good-enough crazy talk, I've got something to say."

Derek nodded like the soft alpha he was and turned to face Stiles more fully.

"You, Derek Alexander Hale, are amazing. A little on the martyr side but that's because you are so protective of your pack. I'd be crazy to not fall in love with you. That's right, love not like. I've been in love with you for years but how was a kid like me going to catch the alpha's eye? I didn't want to ruin our friendship. This," He gestured between them. "This is important to me. I don't want to ruin it."

Derek released a sigh of relief? Stiles couldn't read his eyebrows which was disappointing when he was the most expert at interpreting the alpha's facial expressions.

Then Derek was darting forward and claiming Stiles' lips in a searing kiss. Stiles went with it, almost unbelieving that any of this was happening.

Derek eventually pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

"Worth the wait." The alpha whispered, grinning, bunny teeth all on display.

"Two way street here. You could've said something too. How long have you liked me?"

Derek blushed and it was only because they were so close that Stiles saw the pink of his cheeks and ears.

"I've always liked you, even if I didn't always show it. But love? I think I've loved you since you woke me up on an elevator floor by punching me. You could have left without me but you didn't."

Stiles pouted, "Since then?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

Stiles pushed Derek back and clumsily crawled across the gear stick to straddle the alpha's lap.

"We could have been having the best sex of my life for years, Derek! Years! We've got a lot of making up to do." Stiles dove in to kiss Derek this time. The alpha happily drew Stiles in closer, curling his arms around the spark's slim waist.

A knock on the window, interrupted their make-out session. Boyd's face appeared with judging eyebrows to rival Derek's.

"Heard you needed a hand." Boyd spoke loudly with a smirk as Derek's hand moved away from Stiles' ass to rest safely on his back.

"What's Erica doing?" Stiles asked, leaning over Derek to squint at the blonde chatting wildly on the phone. Derek focused his hearing.

"Turns out I'm not the only one who was waiting." Derek grinned, "And everyone apparently owes Lydia money."

They did eventually get Roscoe out of the sand dune thanks to the advantages of going camping with multiple supernatural creatures. By the time everyone was settled in the camp and Erica had informed Theo and Liam on the events of the day, Lydia was a very rich woman.

Stiles couldn't complain though. Not when the alpha was snuggled between his legs as Stiles sat on the log and Derek roasted them marshmallows. Apparently no one trusted Stiles near an open flame following the incident with that vampire clan. Stiles combed his fingers through Derek's hair and looked around at the pack. This camping trip was the best idea ever.

--

Ok so I must confess I do not camp like...ever and have no idea how four-wheel-driving works so please forgive any major errors in that department. I tweaked things a bit from your prompt sorry. I just couldn't imagine Stiles letting anyone else drive Roscoe. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for popping in!

[nuclearforest]

tell me about your oc, any oc

I swear to you I did not forget about this and had a wedding in the family this weekend, so my reply was delayed. Ty for the ask! I will now proceed to infodump everything you would need to know and more about Claire, my precious little power fantasy baby. This whole OC talk is surprisingly fun for somebody still getting used to it.

-Born early 1700s in early colonial America to owners of an apple orchard

-Everybody there (except for Claire, who is about 8 at this time) proceeds to die a violent death in a wildfire that consumes the orchard. Magical in nature with an indeterminate source but ultimately (as the lady herself describes it) "settled in Claire's bones"

-My current HC is that the type of curse that turns you into a werewolf (or werewolf adjacent creature, as Claire calls herself because of specific distinctions between the more comment European and Quebecois breeds) varies based on the curse that does it. Most European cases like Hans (born early-mid 1800s in my verse) are cursed in a way that has the moon and/or wind drives their level of power. Claire, on the other hand, is a significantly rarer breed of werewolf common to areas with wildfires and curses, mostly the US and Australia. Their power isn't connected to any celestial bodies or other physical phenomena; instead being centered around their emotions and willingness to self destruct. So it tends to focus on using the negative as fuel for power. (Also, her breed doesn't tend to smell like a werewolf unless they've recently shifted, and even then, it's much more burnt wood than wolf.)

-Claire is fun in that sense, because she's extremely violent from a young age. Mellows out around age 100 and starts to carve herself a political niche as a yet undefeated monster hunter. So she's got the running theory that people tend to be violent their first hundred years of life (in her views, Hans fits that bill-- if not marking him a late bloomer!)

-Her current position (and just about any interesting story that follows her) would be centered around her rise as the US premier monster expert. She's stuck in a mostly bureaucratic job, but does get to hunt when something is deemed far too dangerous for a regular set of agents. Current approach is to keep the peace in the valley because in her experience, disruptions of the natural supernatural predatory ecosystem leaves gaps for new, more awful creatures to come crawling up. So a few losses here and there alongside some unexplained events keep things interesting. There is a somewhat tense relationship with allies, most of whom had their own approaches to the same issue.

-Claire was, at a time, allied with Arthur Hellsing! He was in charge of Britain's branch, and they were cordial, but when he died contact was lost and blocked by Walter, funny enough. But to Claire, the line went radio silent.

-In her verse she meets Hans just a few years before the events of Hellsing Ultimate. She had finally gotten wind of some shady dealings as early as the 60s when another branch of government traded weapons and intel to Millennium for everybody's favorite catboy recipe and some knowledge on vampiric soldiers. Montana agreed to it for the resources they couldn't get across the ocean AND because he wanted to see if the US would use it against the USSR. They didn't, but Mill got all the supplies they needed to stockpile a ton of shit and claim power in the spheres of every other awful Nazi that fled to South America following the close of WWII.

-When the events of the Dawn were going down, Claire had been dispatched to the Pacific front. Since the Hellsings had Alucard, the Atlantic was considered to be covered from the US POV.

-Anyway IMO the more interesting parts of her life come before Hans because that's all political intrigue. But I suck at writing that so instead her appearance fic is when she, again, caught wind of those shady dealings and infiltrates Mill. After a very flimsy excuse to keep her around, she warms up to Hans, goes on a rampage when he's gone, and pretty much forcibly relocates him home. Definitely leaning heavily on the power fantasy right there.

-Claire is also much more possessive of Hans than he is of her. He also tends to look at her through rose colored lenses because he doesn't often get exposed to the violent acts she's capable of committing. If he does witness it, it's only mildly unsettling at worst because she's a type of critter he isn't used to.

-But in the end they're a well rounded balance, both with sins of the past that they have to live with. They also immediately settle into an old, comfortable romance. No rush to do anything and all the time in the world for the other.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Something Seams Off || Irene and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden goes to Irene to repair his jacket and they have a snicker-snacker of a time. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Kaden ran his hands along the leather jacket as he watched the signs of the stores along the street. He didn’t want to miss the repair shop. Clothing wasn’t usually precious to him. It couldn’t be, not as a hunter. Sure, he had to scrounge and save for new clothing back in the day, but any shirt or pants could get destroyed in the wrong monster fight. The best thing to do was usually patch it best as he could for as long as he could before tossing it aside for something else decent. But the leather jacket in his grip was different. This was a gift. Kaden had precious few gifts in his life that he held onto, at least not prior to coming to White Crest. Either way, if anything was worth taking care of, it was the jacket Blanche had given him. To the point he was careful not to wear it on hunts, at least not often. Sometimes it was hard to avoid. Still, he couldn't figure out where some of the holes in the piece were coming from. It didn’t make sense. Definitely beyond his skills to repair. Time to try a professional for once. He gulped before swinging the door open. He had to remember whatever the price, he was fine, he could afford it. Old habits were hard to break. “Hello?” he called out. “Uh, got a jacket that needs fixing. This is the place, right?”

After the online interaction with the owner of the leather shop, Irene was quick to research some tips on how to better mend leatherwork. Since it wasn’t her typical area of expertise, she wanted to improve on it in the event she had customers seeking that specific service. Scattered across her table were scrap pieces of leather she had practiced her stitching. Several of her poor needles already set aside and bent at odd angles. Just then, the jingle of the door chimes caused her to look up at the customer entering her shop. With a warm smile, she got up from her table and walked over to the counter. “Welcome, I’m Irene, and you’re in the right place. What sort of fixing does this jacket need?” she asked, her hands gently patting on the counter indicating for him to set down the piece. Upon brief examination, it certainly appeared to be well-worn, well-appreciated.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Kaden said, awkwardly and a little stilted as he walked towards the counter. He had no idea what the protocol was in this whole exchange, it wasn’t like he’d ever done it before. Thankfully she took the lead and indicated where to place the jacket so after giving her a slightly startled look, he did just that. Right. Made sense, she had to look at it after all. “Uh, there are some holes in it. Weird spots. I don’t think I made them.” Then again, he got so many injuries and brushed up against so many various fangs, claws, and pincers it was hard to keep track of the damage after a while. “Not that I-- I mean, I work in animal control. With the WCPD. Uh, Officer Langley.” Which probably didn't matter. Why the fuck was he introducing himself? And why was he nervous about a damn jacket repair? “You probably didn’t need to know that or care. Just, yeah. Weird holes. Does it… You think you can fix this? Not to-- I just don’t know what can and can’t be saved. Usually don’t try.”

Irene’s expert hands were quick to search typical areas where jackets typically formed holes. The seams didn’t seem to be split but with some of the holes, she likely would have to reline a couple of spots so that any fixing wouldn’t look like a patch job. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to study the jacket. “Overall, this looks like it’s in good condition, but the holes are… a little strange,” she noted aloud. “Like you said, definitely in some strange places. If this were a weather or cotton piece, I’d say maybe moths or something, but I’m a bit at a loss as to the cause.” Straightening up, she let out a small sigh and another smile. After all, her job wasn’t to determine what caused this but rather how she would fix it. “Well, Officer Langley, this probably will take me about a week. I think I have similar thread and fabric to fix this up, though once I’m done, it’ll look brand new.” It was clear this jacket meant a lot to him; the stress emanating from him was hitting Irene like a wall of bricks, so she hoped her words could offer some relief. “And I could offer you a rough estimate as well if you’re interested.”

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the woman work through what was going on with his jacket. Putain, he wasn’t normally this nervous about simple human interactions. Something about it being new, unknown, it left him unsure. “Yeah I didn’t think moths would go for leather, but a brow--” Merde. He caught himself before he started talking about fae and monsters. Barely. “I mean, yeah probably not moths.” He felt his stupid heart pounding in his chest over a stupid conversation with a seamstress. The fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he shouldn’t quit hunting. He clearly couldn’t handle normalcy. “A week? Is that-- I mean, sounds good. I’m not sure how long this would normally take. I’ve never had anything repaired before. I normally just throw away things once they get damaged but I guess if I did that you wouldn’t have any business so anyway this is, uh, new. For me.” He was certain she could tell without him saying shit. Her next assurance had him even more wide eyed. Shit, was he really that obvious? He didn’t think he looked poor. He didn’t right? Fuck, maybe he did. “A rough estimate? Oh. Yeah. That’d be good. To know. If you--” His brow furrowed as he cut his sentence short once more. This time it wasn’t just him not knowing how to speak like a normal person. Something was moving. His brows knit together as he looked closer at the jacket. “You’re not…” His eyes darted back up to her. Her hands were in fact not underneath the jacket. And yet it was wiggling. “That’s not you moving it, is it?”

Irene could feel the intensity of his emotions grow despite her telling him that the jacket could be fixed. Was something else worrying him? In the past, she had worked with clients who held incredible sentimental value to their clothing articles. Perhaps this was one of those instances. With a warm smile, she looked across the counter at the man. “This jacket must mean a lot to you if you’re bringing this in for extra care. I assure you that your jacket is in great hands with me, officer. You’re doing great,” she added lightly with a small chuckle. Grabbing a notepad and a pen, she scribbled a few quick notes about the current condition of the leather jacket and the exact fixes the officer was requesting. That helped her approximate the cost. Just as she was about to write out an estimate, his question caught her by surprise. “Hm? N-no, what do you mean?” she asked, her eyes instantly darting to the jacket to see brief movement. Shoot, did her shop have mice or rodents? “Oh goodness!” Without thinking, she lifted the jacket up, expecting to find some sort of critter there only to spot something… not quite exactly that or anything she had seen before. “What--” she jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide after she immediately dropped the jacket back down.

Kaden nodded a little along with her words. “I mean, sure it, uh, I like it and all. But it’s not that important.” Putain, why did he say that? What if that meant she was less careful with it now that she thought he didn’t care? “Not that-- I mean. Yes. Thank you.” Fuck, what if she was fae? And he just thanked her. And why did she have to reassure him that he was doing fine with a basic social interaction. Sadly, his ineptitude wasn’t the biggest disaster in the room. When she moved the jacket, out hopped a small rodent looking creature. Only it wasn’t a mouse or rat, no no. That was a snicker-snacker. No missing it. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself. “No wonder there were holes.” Out of instinct, Kaden reached for his knife in his back pocket, but his hand hovered and hesitated. Just long enough for the supernatural rodent to scutter off. Shit. But he couldn’t just stab the snicker-snacker right in front of her in her shop. He wasn’t the most experienced with social norms, but he was pretty fucking sure destroying shops with knives was frowned upon. He twisted and turned looking to see if he could find the creature. “Must have been in the jacket. Not sure how I missed that.” Had to have crawled in one night when he was hunting. At least he hoped that was the case. If he had an infestation in his apartment, well, he didn’t want to think about the destruction waiting for him at home. “Did you see where it-- there!” he shouted as he leapt towards a corner of the store, diving onto the floor, trying to clasp the rodent with his bare hands. It skittered just out of reach, running to the other side. Shit. He had to get it or else it could be bad news for her shop. It had definitely gone to the left. Only, when he glanced to the right, he saw it there, too. No, not the original one. There were two. “Uh. Think you’ve got a problem here,” he told her, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

If the rodent-looking creature scared Irene, the man pulling out a knife immediately caused the seamstress to shriek out of surprise and fear. But her attention was quickly drawn back to the thing that jumped off her counter and was not running around her shop. With wide eyes, she pulled her gaze back to the man as she tried to process just what had happened. Irene wasn’t normally one for any sort of judgment, but yes, how had this man conveniently not realize that something like that was burrowing his jacket? Before she could even respond, Irene toward the floor as the creature skittered across her feet to the man’s left. Another yelp escaped her lips as she jumped back in surprise. It was one thing for rodents to be scampering around, but she will not have them messing up her shop. Trying to think quickly, Irene grabbed a broom from the corner and glanced to the right and saw… another one. Confusion etched across her face. “Oh no…” she muttered quietly as she slowly raised her broom. Was this her weapon now or a poor decision of a shield? Who knew. “What are those?” she asked in a soft voice, hoping not to startle these creatures with any sudden noise.

This was a problem. One snicker-snacker was bad news. Two were exponentially worse. And for all they knew, there were more than even that. Kaden started to listen and look for any more signs of them, trying to keep his steps quiet as he ducked down to look at any and every corner. “Snicker--” He paused before finishing his answer. Saying “snicker-snackers” was going to make him sound like he was out of his mind, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t exactly keeping the supernatural a secret at that point either. Putain. “Uh, rodents. Mutated mice. I think.” That worked, right? “They’ll eat through just about anything so be careful.” This whole shop would be in bad shape if an infestation broke out. All the clothes and fabric would never last. He glanced over to see how she was holding up. Broom wasn’t a bad idea on her part. Shit, if only he had his work kit. No nets or cages on him now, unfortunately. “Got anything to trap them with? A basket. A bowl. Anything?” He saw a jar full of pins. This was a terrible idea. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself as he dumped the pins as carefully as he could manage onto the table he picked the jar up off of. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I mean looks like it’ll work.” He caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eyes and leapt towards it, jar in hand. “Sweep it towards me! Corner it”

Irene watched the man move around expertly ready to attack. She clutched the broom tighter against her chest as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “Snicker? Like--what, like the candy?” she asked incredulously. Her brow knitted tightly as she tried to keep an eye on even just one of these creatures. “Mutated mice. Wonderful. Thank you evolution,” she muttered under her breath as she took slow, quiet steps through her shop. Rodents weren’t something she was scared of; hell, she’d seen her fair share of very brave rats in New York. This? This should be a piece of cake, though she had no idea what sort of advantages these mutations gave these rodents. Her eyes quickly scanned the room in response to his request. “Uh… how’s this? Wait!” she called out, unable to find a suitable container before the pins were spilled out. Great. But she had little time to process that before she also caught sight of a dashing blur past her. Instinctively, she swept broadly with the broom, the bristles making contact with something, and a loud squeak seemed to indicate she must have caught the rodent. “Coming your way!” she called out as she made one swift broom push toward the man. “Well, that has to be one, right? Is that it?”

“Uh, sort of,” Kaden started. With how often he ran into the supernatural in this town, it was hard to remember how few of the residents actually were in the know. Code said to keep shit secret, he needed to try a little harder. As he dove, he slammed the lar over top of where he’d seen the blur. Only to catch something just to the left of him. Shit. He reached out with the jar again as she swept the lump towards him, capturing the creature underneath. “Got it!” he shouted, keeping both hands on top of the small jar, just in case. There was a sound of something splitting behind him. Putain. He kept one hand on the jar as he twisted to try and look behind him. A table leg had snapped in two and he was certain if they didn’t hurry, there might be less than three legs there. “Shit, shit, shit.” He was making a real fucking great impression here. He had to let go of the jar to get over to the other one. “Uh, do you have a book? Or a weight? Or something? And one more--” He paused. “Maybe two more jars. Just in case.”

Irene's stress levels increased, both from wanting these creatures out of her shop and from the fact that this whole instance was creating a giant mess of her shop. Had these things always been around this entire time? A hazard of her work she never considered before? As the man dove down, Irene held her breath until she saw that he had managed to catch something. “B-book? Um, goodness, I have uh I have a couple of binders of fabric swatches,” she said, frantically reaching for these from the desk in the back. And jars. Her eyes looked for a few more of those, all filled with things like thread scraps or buttons. The priorities now though was definitely in capturing these creatures, so she poured the contents out into an empty box and quickly returned to the man. And then she saw the cracked leg on her table. Oh goodness why was this happening. “I hate to bombard a customer with orders, but please get these things out of here before the rest of my shop is destroyed,” she pleaded.

This was not the first impression Kaden had planned to make. Granted, he didn’t start off on the best foot so guess he didn’t have much to lose. He’d shifted and let his foot rest on the jar while she went to grab more supplies to trap the creatures, untrusting of what would happen if he left it unweighted. He didn’t want to find out if the snicker-snacker could topple over the glass. At least it couldn’t eat it. Well, it shouldn’t at least. It wasn’t exactly wood or fiber. He looked down. Floors should be safe, too. Right, better get them out quickly. “Thanks,” he said, taking the book and the jars from her. He dumped the book on top of the makeshift snicker-snacker trap and hoped like hell it was enough to keep it there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the little pest run up and back towards his jacket. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, diving towards it and yanking it away off the counter. The mutant mouse went spinning and flying in the air as the rug was pulled out from under it, but landed on its feet and scurried off. Merde. He’d have to be more careful.

Jars in hand and ready to pounce, Kaden tried to move quietly around to the back of the counter to see if it had landed back there. A flash of fur and horns darted out, squealing towards the table with three legs. “Not today, you little bastard,” Kaden said as he threw himself at the table, crashing into it, causing all sorts of odds and ends to go flying and clattering to the floor as he wrestled to get the jar on top of the creature. All he got was a spool of thread. Good thing she’d handed him two jars. He reached out with his left hand and slammed the glass down, praying he didn’t break it with his hunter strength and heard a squeal as the tail wriggled out from underneath the lip. If it were a mouse or a rat, he might feel a ping of remorse. But a snicker-snacker? He dug the jar down to the floor a little harder before the tail snaked its way back under the container with another squeal. “Got it,” he said, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the floor.

Irene watched with astonishment as the man moved so expertly. Her eyes darted back and forth between the now-occupied jar and the precarious situation of her table. “Sure…” was all she managed to respond. With her hands now empty and the man chasing after the other “mutant rodents,” Irene’s attention honed onto the jar. She could hear the skittering of the creature, sounds of tiny claws scraping against the glass in an attempt to escape. Leaning down onto her hands and knees, Irene took a peek at the rodent inside, this snicker thing, and let out a small gasp. It looked like a mouse or a hamster but with horns. What the heck was in the White Crest water that mutated the rodents into something like this? Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden slam from the man, the sound of another jar crashing onto the ground and securing another creature in its confines. “O-okay, what do we do now? I mean, are we supposed to let these go out in the wild? Is there animal control for something like this?” And how dangerous were these things? So many questions ran through her head. Then her face paled lightly at the next thought. Did these need to be exterminated? Despite the trouble they brought, the idea soured her stomach.

Kaden brushed off his pants and arms after standing and taking a look at the chaos around the room. Putain. Not how he intended this to go. Couldn’t even have a simple interaction in a store in this goddamn town. “Lucky for you, I am animal control. Obviously not on duty right this second. Or else, you know, I’d be prepared.” He sighed and pushed his hair back into place. “They’re pretty destructive, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the poor table. Shit. “Uh, I can, pay for that, by the way. I sorta brought them here.” No clue how he was affording that but tables couldn’t cost that much, right? Shit. “Reproduce exceptionally fast, too.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the worst part. People already had bad takes on animal control half the time. He’d been called an animal killer too many times for his liking. And it’s not like he could tell her these were clearly monsters and out himself. No one liked to hear about dead animals and he couldn’t blame them. But these weren’t sweet little mice, these were pests. Abominations. Capable of destroying full houses if left to their own devices. “For now, I’ll take them out of here. They’re definitely not adoptable, though. I’ll do a relocation out in the woods, though.” He hoped she would buy it. There was no way he was going to chance a snicker-snacker infestation in town.

It was the sudden calmness that stressed Irene out even more. Was this it? Were all of them caught in her jars? “You? You’re animal control?” Had he said that earlier before all of this happened? She couldn’t recall. A hand ran through her hair, the other hand almost resting against her damaged table before she spotted the broken leg. She quickly pulled back and sighed. At least that table was a hand-me-down from the previous tenant of the shop, and Irene had been hoping to upgrade to a more customized work surface. “Um, yea, th-thanks, I think,” she said mindlessly, unable to fully assess the severity of these creatures. “Like rabbits. Or rats. And I thought New York rats were damaging,” she muttered to herself. How did those things even scurry onto him and into her shop? “Right, your jacket though. If uh if you still wanted that mended, I can still take that on but I might need more time now because…” her voice trailed as she gestured to her mess of a space.

“Officer Langley, yeah. That’s me. Animal control.” Kaden almost felt like he should apologize for that fact. Almost. He did catch them, after all. “But yeah, like rabbits or rats. Only they’ll eat through your table legs. Uh, anyway, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get something more appropriate to transport them and come back.” He’d make sure  to bring a knife with him, too. Maybe a few extra cages in case more of them showed up in the interim. He was about to turn and walk out when his eyes shot back to the jacket, brows raised. Right. He almost forgot. “Oh, yeah. If you can. No rush. At all. Um, thanks, and,” he paused to look around the room, “sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

[collecting-stories]

Bar Night - Dean Winchester

Request: could you do a dean one where reader and dean are at a bar and reader is getting hit on and dean pulls her out of the bar and reader gets mad and asks why he cares and she realizes he’s jealous and he eventually tells her he loves her please 

A/N: Bear with me, I’m still getting used to writing Dean. 

Supernatural Masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Usually this was Dean’s gig, flirt with the cute bartender while they shamelessly dropped hints about what time they were getting off shift. Tonight you’d lucked out though. Not that you were interested in the guy tending bar for anything more than a quick night but he was cute, you’d give him that. In an ‘I stopped aging at 30 and I look like an ex member of a boyband’ way. Which was fine since Dean was keeping you at arms length. Heaven forbid anyone ever get close to him again besides Sam.  

“And the guy says-“

“Hey,” speak of the devil (figuratively), you turned in your stool to see Dean standing there, his usual attempt at a stoic expression on his face but you could tell he was pissed. About what, you weren’t sure, but you had known him long enough to pick up on his tells.  

You were right too. He was pissed. He’d been sitting at the booth the three of you had grabbed earlier in the evening, watching you sit up at the bar. You had said you were only going up for a refill but next thing he knew you were sitting on the stool, chatting with the too friendly bartender.  

“What’s taking her so freakin’ long?” Dean grumbled, “how hard is it to uncap a bottle of beer and walk it over here.”

“She’s talking to the bartender Dean, I know you can see that.” San replied, too busy reading over the paper to bother with this eventual lover’s quarrel. Except, of course, that you weren’t lovers. At least not yet.  

“This is ridiculous, I’m gonna be dead before my beer makes it to the table.” He stood up, making his way through the crowd to the bar. Any other given night he would’ve just waited but he could see you leaning against the counter as the bartender told what he imagined was a stupid, fabricated story about something ordinary. “Hey.”  

“Oh, hey,” you smiled and your stool turned though Dean didn’t miss the way you glanced back at the bartender, as if to suggest that this new person held no threat to him.  

“I thought you were grabbing beers?”

“I am.” You nodded toward the three beers that were sitting on the counter, “see, there are the beers and I’m right here, getting them.”

“Yeah, yeah...I see you sitting here chatting it up with the bartender while Sam and I are over there waiting. Like we got nothing friggin’ else to do.”

“Well you’re here now, take the beers. I wouldn’t want you and Sam to dehydrate.” You replied, rolling your eyes at him as you took a sip of your own beer. You wanted to tell Dean that if the bartender was some skimpily dressed woman, he would’ve parked his ass in the stool all night long. Instead he was bitching because you took five extra minutes to yourself.  

“Are you coming?” He asked, grabbing the beers off the counter. He looked back at the booth where Sam was still sitting, completely oblivious to the two of you.  

“Back to the booth?” You asked, “in a minute.” You turned back toward the counter, eyes scanning the line of people to see where your bartender was.  

“You know we got a case we’re trying to work on here, maybe you could act a little more professional and save the hook-ups for after we gank this thing.” Dean knew how hypocritical he sounded but he couldn’t stop himself, he was seeing red just standing there watching you look for the bartender and there was no way he would be capable of walking calmly back to Sam and going on with the night knowing that you would be with someone else.  

You almost spit out your beer when you laughed, the bitter sound letting Dean know you were pissed at him, the laugh only a mocking one. “That’s the fucking most hilarious thing you’ve ever said. Excuse me for enjoying myself and not sulking in the corner with you and Sam.”

“You don’t even know who this guy is, for all we know-“  

You cut him off before he could finish the sentence, spinning so quickly in your chair you were thankful you didn’t completely fall off and embarrass yourself. “Do not even finish that sentence Dean.” You snapped. “I can’t believe you, what just cause a guy is interested in me he must be a monster? Is that what you’re insinuating?”  

“No I-“ He shook his head, quickly trying to back track. It was too late though, you were already heading for the door of the dive bar, no doubt planning on walking the short distance back to the motel. He wasn’t finished having the conversation though and he’d be damned if you went off and then pretended like nothing ever happened. “hey!” He called after you, putting the beers back on the counter.  

“Hey man, you gotta pay for those.” The bartender you’d been looking for earlier seemed to reappear as Dean stepped away from the counter.  

“Screw you.” He called over his shoulder, following you outside.  

-

You weren’t hard to find or to catch up with. Before you could even get halfway across the parking lot to where Baby was sitting Dean had grabbed your arm, trying to stop you. In the moment you swung back, trying to hit him but he grabbed the wrist of your other arm before your right hook could land on his face. “Hey, whoa, wait a minute.” Dean said.  

You yanked your arms away and crossed them in front of you, trying to glare daggers into his skull. Rowena no doubt knew a spell for something like that, you wouldn’t mind having it handy in moments like these.

“I wasn’t trying to say he was a-” He started to say but you rolled your eyes.  

“Anyway you spin that it’s gonna bite you in the ass. Try apologizing for once without talking your way out of a problem.”  

“I’m not talking my way out of anything!”  

“Oh please!” You groaned, “you always do this!”

“Do what? All I did was ask you where my beer was and you’re flying off the handle!” Dean argued though he knew that wasn’t true. He’d pushed you because he was jealous watching you flirt with that guy. Antagonizing you at the bar had worked enough to get you away from the bartender but he hadn’t wanted to get you mad at him in the process.  

“What are you gaslighting me now? I’m not crazy! We go out all the time and you flirt with anything that walks by but I flirt with one guy and you immediately lose it!”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘losing it’.” He replied, trying to keep up his indifference.  

“I’m not doing this with you again Dean.” You said, suddenly sounding more tired than angry, “give me the keys, I’m going back to the hotel.”

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head. There was no way he was letting you have Baby but there was also no way he was letting you walk back alone. “We’re not done talking.”

You sighed, shaking your head at him. He wasn’t going to give up but all you wanted was to put this behind you. These arguments were all the same, they led nowhere and tomorrow he would be back to the same old Dean flirting with other women and ignoring any inkling that there might be something between the two of you. “We aren’t talking, we’re yelling in a parking lot about nothing. About your need to sabotage every chance I get with-“  

“You didn’t even like that guy.”

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on what guys I like?”  

“Just, could you shut up for a minute?” He snapped.  

“Excuse m-“

You were ready for a comeback, that fire you felt at being practically scolded in front of a bar full of people right there in your throat ready to yell at him when he kissed you. Without warning Dean grabbed your face and kissed you, eyes closed, his shoulders relaxing, until you shoved him back.  

As fogged over as the kiss made your brain and as much as you were dying to keep kissing him, you were not going to lose this argument. “I swear to god Dean Winchester if you just kissed me to distract me from-”  

“Will you shut up?” He groaned, “fine, you want me to say it, here it goes. I like you. God, I sound like I’m in high school. That bartender, the coroner last week, that lawyer we interviewed two days ago. They’re all crap and as much as I would like to keep you at arm's length and pretend I’m not feeling this way I can’t keep sitting there watching these guys, terrified that one of them will be different than the rest and you’ll leave. And I don’t wanna be the one to condemn you to this life-”

“Condemn me to it? God Dean I’ve been in it as long as you have.” You replied, cutting him off before he could go down the rabbit hole of pitying himself.  

“It’s not fair of me to ask you to stick it out and give up any sense of normalcy. And it’s not fair of me to dump all this crap on you in some dive bar parking lot but seeing you with other guys just reminds me that I want that with you. I love you, I can’t keep acting like I don’t.” Dean said, frustration giving way to exhaustion, “there, that’s it.”

“Oh thank you, I can talk now?”  

“Always with the smart ass comments.”

“I try.” You grinned, your earlier anger subsiding at Dean’s confession. You’d always thought there was something between the two of you but usually wrote it off as a misinterpretation on your part but to hear him say that he loved you was all you needed. “And you’re not condemning me to anything or dumping your crap on me or any other over dramatic, pain in the ass way you can think of to torture yourself over actually having feelings for me.”  

“I am not being dramatic.” Dean argued.  

“Are you kidding me, this is the epitome of Winchester drama. Lucky for you, I happen to love you enough to put up with it.” You confessed.  

“Yeah well…what? Really?”  

“Hey, I’d be hunting with or without you but enduring 48 hour car trips in the backseat of Baby while you and Sam bullshit each other…consider it a testament of my love for you.” You started to head back to the bar when Dean grabbed your arm again, stopping you in your tracks.  

“Uh, no, where do you think you’re going?” There was no way he was letting you go back into that bar.  

“I still want a beer! And Sam is in there.” You said looking at the door to the dive and then back to Dean.  

He shrugged, pulling you closer to him again. He wasn’t about to spend the rest of the night sitting in a booth with Sam when he had just told you he loved you and listened to you say it back. He’d been wanting this for too long. “Sam‘ll figure out we left and there’s beer back at the hotel.”  

-

The real question...does Sam ever realize their gone?

[infinite-beginnings]

Happy Asexual Awareness Week!

I wanted to take some time to share my personal Ace story and how I took the long and slow and confusing and sometimes scary journey to realizing I was Asexual.

I probably would’ve been able to identify myself as asexual all the way back in middle school, that is, if I had known what it was. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn the term until many many years, and several failed dating attempts later. In fact, I didn’t start identifying as an Asexual until I was 22 and out of college.

That is why I am writing this. It is not because I am an expert on Asexuality or because I have all of the answers. Because trust me, it’s five years later and I am still figuring this whole thing out. This is my personal story and everyone’s experience is different but I am writing this because I hope that if I share my experiences, some beautiful person somewhere will read it and think “huh, that’s sort of how I feel,” and that will be the missing puzzle piece they need to figure out their sexuality.

If anyone knows me, you know that I tend to write A LOT, so this is ridiculously long and if you choose to read the whole thing, you have my great admiration.

Let me tell you a little bit about my journey from a straight woman to a biromantic asexual. 

Let’s start back in middle school and high school. I can sum up my love life in one word: Nonexistent. I remember feeling left out when my more boy crazy friends talked about their crushes. I for one, had a severe lack of crushes. There were boys I thought were cute and nice, but I couldn’t relate to the intensity of the feelings of my friends.

Looking back, I think I forced myself into having crushes. I would be talking to a male friend who I thought was cute and wonder if this was a crush. Then, my friends would all tell me that we looked good together and I would admit that I thought that I liked them and we would all squeal over the possibility.

Of course, nothing ever happened. I used to blame it on my shyness and awkwardness, and while that might still be a part of it, I think the bigger reason that I never acted on any of my “crushes” was because I simply didn’t want to. I enjoyed being friends with these boys and that was good enough for me. I remember thinking repeatedly that I wouldn’t have wanted to date a boy because I hadn’t acted soon enough and now we were too good of friends to ruin.

Fast forward to sophomore year of high school. I was running a retreat through my church and we were playing a game to get to know the leaders. One of the questions asked us to describe the worst date we’d been on. I was last in line, so I sat there and listened to the other peer leaders describing their dates. As time went on I grew more and more uncomfortable. I excused myself to go to the bathroom before it was my turn to speak. Once there, I cried my eyes out.

Now, it may not seem like that big of a deal, a sophomore who hadn’t even been on a single date yet. But it was the first moment where I really felt like something was broken inside of me. I felt so disconnected from the stories the others were telling and I didn’t know why. I had no idea why I didn’t have the same experience as everyone else in the room. It hadn’t really occurred to me that I was missing out on anything until that moment.

I didn’t know what a panic attack was back then either, but looking back, I’m pretty sure I was having one. Eventually, one of the other peer leaders found me and helped to calm me down. She assured me that it didn’t matter one bit that I hadn’t been on a date yet. I accepted her reassurances, but I couldn’t tell her how empty I was really feeling.

Fast forward again to my senior year. This is when I think I had my first honest to god crush. We met at a summer camp and were friends for a couple years before things started to get more intense between us.

The summer after my senior year we spent a couple weeks together at this camp. One night we snuck out together and stayed up talking for hours. That’s all we did, talk. To this day, there are still people who think that there is no way that all we did was talk...but anyways. He was a sweet boy and I loved spending time with him. Sitting and talking for hours on end felt right to me.

A couple days later, I remember this boy telling me that he had really wanted to kiss me that night.

I honestly cannot remember what my response was, but it was probably awkward and not at all what he was looking for. I was so shocked and had no idea how to respond. After the week ended we were texting and he told me that him saying he wanted to kiss me was his way of telling me that he liked me. This I was better equipped to deal with. I told him that I liked him back, because I honestly did. He would hold my hand and it would make butterflies erupt in my stomach.

A lot of boring and awkward teenage flirting later, we ended up kissing on my front porch. My first kiss. And I froze. I literally did not move a muscle. I chalked it up to first kiss nerves.

I remember afterwards I went inside and leaned against the front door and smiled like girls do in cheesy romance movies. I was happy and glad that I had finally experienced my first kiss, but I wasn’t as happy as I thought I was supposed to be. Again there was this weird disconnect that I couldn’t explain. I was glad to have gotten my first kiss, but there were no emotions deeper than that.

I tried talking to one of my more experienced friends about it and he just told me that the first couple kisses were always awkward and I just had to give it a couple more chances.

So I did. My freshman year of college, whenever I was home I would see this boy and the nights frequently ended in kisses.

Now, I really liked this boy. We talked all the time and I felt comfortable talking about pretty much everything with him. So I really wanted this to work. And I could tell he liked the kissing, so I kept trying.

But in the end I came to the conclusion that I didn’t enjoy it. I would find myself in the middle of what should’ve been a steamy make out session feeling bored. I would wonder how much longer the kiss would go on. 

I didn’t understand it, because I loved cuddling with this boy and the little physical touches of affection would give me goosebumps, but I did not enjoy the kissing.

Eventually what we had fizzled and we went back to being just friends. And I tried to rationalize my feelings by thinking that him and I just didn’t have chemistry or that I didn’t know how to kiss correctly so it felt wrong.

I had no idea what to do with these feelings, so I just pushed them aside.

I didn’t date at all through college.

I told myself that it was because I didn’t go out and party and that was how people seemed to meet each other. Truth is, the whole hook-up culture really freaked me out. I don’t judge people who participate in it, but I just couldn’t even in a million years think of doing something like that. It made me uncomfortable to think about, so I stayed away.

Then, my senior year of college I read a post on tumblr that changed my life. It was a post about Sam Winchester from Supernatural and it called him a demi-sexual. This piqued my interest so I read more about it. I learned that this was a term for people who could only feel sexual attraction to people who they had developed a close emotional connection with.

That sounded like me. It explained why the college hook-up life was not appealing to me and why I had trouble dating. By the time I felt close with someone, they were my friend and I was “stuck in the friendzone”. I figured my main problem was that I didn’t know how to get that close to the guy I was trying to date.

After college, my sister convinced me to try a dating website. I was dubious about it, but I did it and managed to find a couple really sweet guys. One of them I actually dated for an extended period of time.

I still thought I was demi-sexual at this point, so I told him I wanted to take things slow. And we did, and he was very respectful about it. Eventually we got to the point where he asked if he could kiss me and I said yes.

So we kissed. And the only thing I can remember is disappointment. I was disappointed because this kiss didn’t feel any different than my other ones.

The next day, this boy texted me that he’d been thinking about our kiss and couldn’t wait to do it again. This was a tipping point for me. As sad as it made me, I knew I had to break up with him. He obviously felt a lot more intensely towards me than I did him and I didn’t want to lead him on. The truth was, the only thing I’d thought about since our kiss was how I might be able to avoid kissing him again soon. It was only fair that I broke things off with him before they got any more intense.

Plus, I had to figure out what the heck was going on with me. Demisexuality was close, but it didn’t seem to be a perfect fit.

So I went back to the internet and tumblr and I finally found out about asexuality. At first I really tried to talk myself out of identifying as an asexual because it sounded a little scary. Sex is just an important part of our culture and dating life. How was I supposed to navigating dating if I didn’t want to have sex or maybe even kiss? Was that really who I was or was the problem that I hadn’t just found the right person yet? I read every article I could find, but honestly they weren’t much help.

The problem is that asexuality is such an umbrella term. In simple terms, Asexuality can be defined as a lack of sexual attraction. But that being said, I read that there were some asexuals who still felt sexual attraction and some asexuals who enjoyed having sex. There were other asexuals who were sex-repulsed. The list goes on and on. There are dozens of different unique terms within asexuality and honestly, it’s all kind of overwhelming.

I just wanted to know if I was asexual or not. I wanted to be able to take a test or check off a list or something, but it’s not that simple.

I anonymously reached out to a few asexual tumblrs and told them my story. They all responded in similar ways. They said that it sounded like I could be asexual, but ultimately, only I could really make that decision.

I let this stew for a few months. I went back and forth. Sometimes I tried talking myself into asexuality and sometimes I was talking myself out.

Eventually, I decided that the asexual umbrella was big enough to cover me. The more I thought about my life, the more things seemed to make sense through an asexual lens.

The way I used to read the Nora Roberts books that my older cousin smuggled me. I would often skip over all of the sex scenes, not because they made me uncomfortable, but because they bored me. I was much more intrigued in the story.

How I never really enjoyed watching sex scenes in movies.

How I cringed at the smacking sound that kisses made both in movies and in real life.

How much I hated reading fanfiction that was smut and couldn’t even properly write two characters kissing.

Everything that used to make me feel out of place and different from my friends could be explained by the fact that I was asexual.

I have not tried dating since I figured out that I was asexual. The already daunting dating world gets a lot more scary when you remove the sexual aspect. 

I know I am not aromantic, because I really want a partner to go on dates with. Who I can cuddle with and hold hands and share secrets with. I yearn to find someone to share my life with. I really want the romance part that comes with dating. It’s just hard to find someone who wants to do those things but is okay with not kissing or having sex.

I haven’t quite figured out how to navigate that one yet (like I said, still figuring stuff out). I do know that identifying as Ace made me feel a lot more comfortable with who I was. I no longer tried to explain away my lack of sexual feelings. I no longer feel like something is wrong with me because I don’t want to kiss a pretty boy who’s into me.

Now, I’m sure some of you picked up on the biromantic thing and are wondering why I have only been talking about boys. That is because I thought I was straight. My lack of sexual attraction was disguising my love for women and everyone else. When I told my sister I was Asexual she asked if that meant I could like women if I wasn’t interested in sex.

I told her that Ace people could still be Pan or Bi or heteroromatic when it came to who they found appealing, but her question made me start to think about whether I really only liked boys or not. Now, I think I definitely gravitate more towards men. Most of the characters in shows I find myself obsessing over are men. But that being said I can definitely think of times where I was into a girl. I would think of how attractive a woman was and be fascinated by her. I just thought my appreciation of her stemmed from either friendship or jealousy. 

This is all slightly hypothetical since I haven’t actually tried dating a woman, but when I picture it in my head, it feels just as comfortable to imagine being in a relationship with a woman as it does with a man. Because of this, I choose to identify as biromantic. At the end of the day, labels should make us feel comfortable with what we are and they are not set in stone.

Maybe someday I’ll date a woman and decide it’s actually not for me. If that happens I can drop the Biromantic part. If you take anything out of this very long story, it’s that you should identify with whatever makes you feel comfortable.

If you are questioning whether or not you are asexual, try sitting with it for a while. See if identifying as Ace feels like it fits with you. If it doesn’t, keep searching. There’s no perfect answer and labels are not perfect and are not necessary. Labels simply help us form a community of people who feel similarly to us.

Since I’ve started to identify as asexual I’ve told my closest friends and my family. For the most part I’ve received unconditional support and a few of them told me that they were not at all surprised to find out I was Ace. 

I’ve also experienced my brother telling me that maybe my lack of sexual feelings stemmed from confidence issues and maybe if I lost some weight I would feel more comfortable in my body and feel comfortable having sex. I’ve also experienced my mother telling me not to worry about labeling myself because I didn’t want to limit my options. She then proceeded to pretend that we’d never had that conversation at all.

Coming out as asexual can be a little bit complicated because of the lack of knowledge surrounding asexuality. I find myself often having to explain what asexuality is along with telling them that I am ace. It adds a bit of chaos to an already scary process.

Here is my humble advice to anyone considering coming out to your friends or family. Educate yourself on asexuality. I will include some of the resources I turned to at the end of this. Try to have answers to give them about it. Be strong. You know your feelings and your mind. Tell them honestly how you feel. Answer all of their questions up until the point you are comfortable with. If you are not comfortable talking about your feeling surrounding sex or anything like that, simply tell them that.

I’ve had some friends ask me some pretty personal questions surrounding my asexualtiy. For me personally, I encouraged it, because I was trying to educate them and help them know how I felt. But for you, you might want to set boundaries about what you are and are not comfortable with.

To all of my Ace people out there, happy Asexual Awareness Week! You are valid, you are loved, you are perfect, and you are whole.

I am always here to talk if anyone has questions, stories, concerns, or just looking for a sympathetic ear!

Here are some websites and tumblrs I turned to while looking for information on Asexuality! This list is by no means excusive or the best one around, it’s simply what I used!

https://www.thetrevorproject.org/trvr_support_center/asexual/

https://www.asexuality.org/

https://www.healthline.com/health/what-is-asexual

@fuckyeahasexual​ @perksofbeingace​ @thehumorousace​ @asexualadvice​ @asexual-society​ @life-of-an-asexual​ @asexualawarenessweek​

[mimzy-writing-online]

Blind Characters and Superpowers

As I (a blind writer) continue to write guides on how to write a blind character accurately and with respect, I get a lot of questions from you guys. I love them, but I’ve noticed that the majority of questions I get about writing blind characters involve some form of super power or supernatural ability to “get around” the blindness. And it’s leading me to wonder why anyone is writing a blind character at all. If the story cannot work without them having some form of super power to make them useful and capable, then why is the character blind at all.

And who says fighting is the only way a character could ever be useful or helpful. Why does a person have to useful anyway?

Truth be told, I don’t need to see myself in the superhero. I’m not sure how many blind people need to see themselves as the superhero. I don’t see myself as the person at the front lines, I see myself as the person helping the survivors put themselves back together. I see myself as the person on the sidelines who is both emotionally supporting the heroes, and doing everything in my reasonable power to help them. But that is just my perspective, and my perspective is not universal. 

Maybe some people do wanna see themselves as a superhero, and maybe some people want to see themselves as the unsung hero. Both roles are just as valuable and needed.

This post is to address: Why your blind character doesn’t need to be the fighting hero at the center of the story, and why having a blind character on the sidelines is just as good. This post is also going to discuss why you actually want to give a character a superpower and whether or not you should reconsider.

Disclaimer: I am one blind person, and my opinions and my advice are based on my experience. I am considered visually impaired from the narrowly defined legal definition, but due to my condition (which is far more complex than visual acuity) and the way I function with my disability, really, I’m just blind. And that’s been my life for a few years now. I’m not the universal authority on blindness, I can’t tell you everything nor can I absolve you of any mistakes or problematic plotlines. 

I’m just one person, and right now I’m the only person with experience as both a writer and a blind person who is willing to give and offer advice.

(as far as I know)

So? On to the conversation.

Why are you giving your blind characters superpowers?

I love Toph. I love Daredevil. But they are not the only amazing blind people I look up to. I see myself a little in Toph, but I don’t see myself in Daredevil. Heroes aren’t usually where I see myself.

Actually, I did see myself the Twelfth Doctor on Doctor Who for the two episodes he was blind. But the show took that away from me when they cured him. And it wasn’t even his choice!

(See why I might get so miffed about someone curing their character?)

But there’s a difference between Toph and Daredevil, and with 12. Toph and Daredevil had abilities that allowed them to get around and fight despite their blindness. 12 had a pair of sunglasses he enhanced with technology, and he was still kind of bad at the whole being blind thing. [Which I loved!]

I can’t have Toph or Daredevil’s superpowers, but I can have technology and learned skills that allow me (a blind person) to do some pretty freaking cool things.

Although, I also don’t have the Doctor’s brains or life experiences or technology. But 12′s way of dealing with his blindness has more in common with my real life experience than Toph or Daredevil did.

But speaking of Doctor Who, don’t you remember the blind girl from season 11 with the Thirteenth Doctor? Hanne, played by Ellie Wallwork. I adored her, and in a way I found myself in her. She didn’t need to be the hero, the person doing all the fighting. She didn’t need to be the person with the solution. She just needed to be a person with her own problems, and to make her own decisions about those problems. She ran away from Ryan and went into the upside down universe to find her father, and even though it was terrifying and she was putting herself at risk, it was still her own decision. She made it for herself. I would love to see myself in the hacker who helps the superhero find all the dirty secrets on someone. Think Felicity Smoke from Arrow, or Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. Blind tech genuis! Give me that. I would love to see myself in the nurse who patches up the hero. I would love to see myself in a forensic scientist. Those are two careers I was seriously considering as my vision loss symptoms began to add up. I would love to see myself in the classmate who overheard all the great details of gossip, all the secrets, and could tell you anything about anyone. I would love to see myself as the best friend, and the romantic interest, and in the worried family member. In any of those roles, I would be helping my hero without doing the fighting. I’m not a fighter, but I will help those I love with everything I’ve got. 

And maybe the hero sees the blind character as their own personal hero, the person whose moral convictions they look up to, or the person who always knows the right thing to say, or the person who is just too damn smart for their own good. Maybe the hero sees a hero in the blind person, even if they never threw a punch. Why does the blind character need a superpower? Why is every hero story told from the perspective of the hero? I would like to see the story of the person who watches the heroes going to the fight, and does everything in their power to help from where they are. I want to see a blind character take full command of their position and the role without needing something to negate their blindness.

Your character doesn’t need to be the superhero to bring value to the story. Your character doesn’t need a superpower to do amazing things.

They’re the journalist, the social activist, the hacker, the scientist, the engineer, the psychologist, the teacher/mentor, the student, the chef, the expert in a niche field of interest, the writer, the artist. They’re someone important, and they don’t need a superpower to do those things.

(Part 2)

I think to address this we need to understand why you want to use a super power to allow your character to see.

Are you under the idea that a character has to be completely blind? That is most certainly not the case. Less than 10% of all blind people see nothing. Most blind people see something. It might be light and shadow. It might be color. They might see shapes that move but not shapes that are still. Maybe the world shakes, and it makes things 10x harder to see.That is a real problem people with nystagmus (a condition which makes someone’s eyes shake uncontrollably) live with. Maybe you should be more thoroughly researching different eye diseases and conditions to learn the real limits of your character.

Maybe you need to craft your blind character a bit better (link to a guide on that)

https://mimzy-writing-online.tumblr.com/post/185123396964/writing-a-blind-or-visually-impaired-character

Is it because you don’t know how to write from the narrative of someone who can’t see the scene around them? Is the description just not working with your character? Maybe I should point you in the direction of one of my guides, which gives advice on narrative and writing style with blind protagonists.

https://mimzy-writing-online.tumblr.com/post/185125198184/writing-blind-or-visually-impaired-characters

Are you giving them superpowers because you can’t imagine them doing the things you wanted them to do while being blind? Is it really too unrealistic for your blind character to do this task without vision? Maybe they shouldn’t be blind then. Or maybe you should consider doing more research. Surely, there is a way to complete a task without vision. Maybe you just don’t understand enough about orientation mobility or about technology to understand how we can do the things we do. Or maybe what you’re writing is just unrealistic.

Not to say that any story must be realistic, but perhaps at least reasonable. At least, realistic enough to maintain the suspension of disbelief while something impossible happens right before eyes. Maybe, you’re not writing a blind character because you actually want to write a blind character. Maybe you don’t want to write this. Maybe this character was only a token. Maybe this character was only an experiment. An exercise to see what your writing abilities could do. Maybe writing a character with a disability was fun in theory, and now you’ve gotten this far and you don’t understand how you could possibly keep going without cheating somehow and adding a super power. I won’t lie, and some of my earliest writing I was in the same place. Wanting to write from the perspective of something I didn’t understand because it sounded fun, or because I felt guilty for not being diverse enough. But if you lose consistency, or you need to cheat somehow to get around this problem, if this minority character or this unique experience has become a problem for your writing... Maybe you shouldn’t be writing this. Maybe the character just shouldn’t be blind. Why write it if it’s going to become a problem?

It’s not diversity if it takes away the thing that makes us diverse.

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

Or, yeah, in which I snapped and went on a rant because I don’t understand why a character needs a superpower to cancel out their disability, or why we’re bothering to write a character with a disability if all we’re going to do is give them a superpower to make it less of a burden.

Did you like this post? Do you like this blog? Do you want to support the blogger?

This blog has two purposes. One, to give writing advice. The writing advice I post, the anon questions I answer, and the messages I answer in private are all done for free. I never ask for money to give advice. 

The second purpose is to promote my writing for when I eventually self publish my novel, A Witch’s Memory. Which includes a blind main character who is very dear to my heart.

How to Support this Blog: 

-Like and reblog this post. 

-Follow my blog. 

-Reblog my original content for A Witch’s Memory (all content for AWM is under #a witch’s memory in my archive) 

-Ask to be on my tag list for updates and excerpts on the book.

Here is the link A Witch’s Memory masterpost: 

https://mimzy-writing-online.tumblr.com/post/185647955184/a-witchs-memory-an-interview-with-the-author

If you have the resources, and only if you want to, you can donate to my ko-fi fund, and the donations will go to the savings account for self publishing costs

https://ko-fi.com/mimzyreiner

[stinkyratshadowgod]

Crazy Storyline Apex Theory

(P.s: I’m reposting because Tumblr F*CKING ate my first post)

Okay in the trailer for the new event “Lost Treasures”, we see at the end that in Mila (in some way) spoke to Crypto through his drone, saying “Tae, it’s me. Be carefull! they’re watching you”. Naturally i was going to joke “Haha Mila is going to be the next Apex Legends next season lmao”. But then i stopped and thought more about it, and instead of making a joke, i decided to write a theory about why is that plausible and it’s going to be the next storyline (or maybe...this storyline)

Okay what do we know about Mila? Not much actually, she and Tae found a prediction algorithm that is directly related to the Apex Games (but we don’t know who made that and the real purpose), and then she saves it in a pen drive, leaves and is found “dead” next morning, with her brother being blamed as the killer

I know that this isn’t a lot to work with, but i think it’s enough to cook something. The name of my plate (aka theory) is “Apex is going to pull up a Winter Soldier and make Mila a brainwashed soldier (or expert Hacker) from Hammond”. You better enjoy it while it is still hot

1-Mila is still alive

Ok so why do i believe that? It’s because i believe that Mila is actually alive (even tho it’s a schrodinger cat paradox situation because shes alive and dead at the same at, and we will only know the real result when Respawn pulls her out of the “box”).

My evidences is that 1-The new trailer (lol) and 2-Shes actually pretty usefull: Shes a hacker, a good one, she was the one (with the help of Tae) to unlock the prediction programm, and she developed the system that unlock it (or at least had the knowledge that the system she found online would help unlock the algorithm). And because shes connected to the biggest hacker of the outlands, so perhaps they are going to use her to blackmail Crypto to stop going after the truth.

Respawn never explained how the brothers found the algorithm, but whatever the case is, if the sindicate would go out of their way to “eliminate” Mila and then go after her brother (but we know that this time they wanted for real kill Crypto) that must mean that the prediction algorithm must be really important, and we know why:

2-Season 4 (and the Override event)

Hammond had great interest in the Apex Games in the start of Season 4, and so they made a deal with the AG, and so Hammod brought us 1-Revenant (the best decision ever i love him but i better stop or else i will write a full essay on why i love Rev); 2-The evo shield (at least i headcannon that the evo shields are a Hammond creation in order to please the Legends), but in return they would build the planet harvester and do some promotion...it’s just me that thinks that a big company especialized in robotics (and titans) would only bring a harvester and do a propaganda to show that their hip and cool?

Even the harvester is a little weird, because: 1-The Apex Games takes ages after Titanfall 2 campaign (10 years i belive), and the war is over, so the need of building Titans wouldn’t be very necessary, yeah they can be used as heavy machinery in hazardous jobs, but the main use of the titans was military, and they already use MRVNS units to replace humans. I know that building robots and guns requires a lot of materials, but the harvester seems like a little bit of a overkill, also are we even sure that they are collecting materials for the robots? (which brings me to my next point)

2-What the heck is the planet harvester even harvesting?  By the looks of the big lazer, it looks like they are actually harvesting the core of the world edge’s planet (idk if it’s also sucking materials for robots and guns, but you never see pieces of scraps flying up with the lazer, and we don’t see a storage thing to store the minerals)

I believe the real reason that Hammond is so interested in the Apex Games is actually because of 2 mf’s: 1-Revenant (since he was killing all the Hammonds workers and those connected to the simulacrum project) and 2-Crypto, since hes the one going after their tail, and Hammond knows that Crypto has the actual powers to be a real problem to them, so they partner up with the Apex Games just to keep a closer eye to Tae Joon (and Revenant but who can blame them Rev is a real eye treat).

(Side point: While i was writting this theory, i remembered a critical point of the Override event...the rewards, the rewards you got when you gained points, and in the points reward’s menu, we see this:

At first we thought this was Rev doing, but when you think about, it doesn’t make a lot of sense since Revenant doesn’t give a crap about helping people, he just wants to kill (go you, you funky lil robot), and when you think more about it, hes couldn’t pull that off since hes not a computer specialist. The only character that could this is Crypto, but Tae A)Already knows that Hammond cannot be trusted or B)He coudn’t have predicted the partnership. My point is, Crypto also didn’t left the message (cuz it would be weird leaving a message about something that seems obivious to yourself). So the only one remaining is...Mila Mila is somewhere in the Outlands (maybe she escaped or she sneakily sended the message through the place she is being held) sending messages to Crypto.

2.5-The bunkers

You know whats weirder than The Planet Harvester? The underground holes (bunker? vaults? Its hard to use these words since they’re already taken) introduced in Season 5. In the trailer they looked like bunkers that you could open at any moment (like a trapdoor). In the release of season 5 the first thing i saw youtubers do is try to open the bunkers, they failed, and then they tried to use Loba (and they would usually fail and fall to their death, which was funny content). So i thought “Okay, maybe it’s going to be like Fortnite and with each week they are going to open one by one (and yes i play Fortnite casually, it’s actually a great and fun game), and nothing. So i ask “What is the purpose of those trapdoors?”

In the trailer of the new event, after Mila talked with Crypto through the Drone, it showed us a underground bunker opening, perhaps it’s Mila, or at least a secret base that Mila used to send Crypto the messages to warn him about Hammond. Whatever the case is, i strongly believe thats it’s going to be something related to Mila

3-The artifact and the “broken ghost”

The name “broken ghost” is actually a weird name for something that has something to with Loba, sure you can say “It actually refers to something that is going to be used against Revenant” or “It’s actually something that we are going to use to bring back Ash from the Titanfall 2 campaign” and while yes that can be the case (especially the Ash theory) i actually believe that what we’re building is a universal locator, a locator used to locate everything and everyone in the outlands. You may be asking “...okay...why?” And i tell you: “The legends don’t live together”

On what i mean by that: In a tweet sended by Tom Casiello, he told us that the legends don’t live in the dropship or in a big house like housemates  (even tho i decided that in my heart they are one big family of friends living together in a mansion, with each one of them having a room with their themes). And in the Chapter 4 of the storyline, it’s revealed that Bangalore and Lifeline live in diferent houses.

Where i am going with this is: Crypto is still living like a nomad, always running (and he even says in one of the elimination lines [“Sometimes you get tired of running, I understand, but you can't ever stop."], thus showing that even in the Apex games, hes running from the sindicate, the people who got his sister and now is after him, but as we can see, they still didn’t got him. Hammond could be building a robot (since the artifact [currently] looks like a skull, which spookes me a lil bit) that could pinpoint the exact location of Crypto and finally capture him.

Now for the most bonker part of this theory: They brainwashed Mila and turned her into a winter soldier

As i already said, Mila is actually pretty useful, not only because of her smarts, but because of the advantage that using someone that Crypto is closely familiar with could bring his downfall. So heres what i concluding: Mila gets brainwashed by Hammond in order to have someone to be a strong match against the best hacker of all the outlands and get rid of a big threat.

You may be asking “How?” and for that, i call my favorite boy:

4-Revenant (also yes this is a excuse to talk more about my main)

Rev doesn’t need a introduction, but heres one anyway: He was a hitman that at some point has died, so Hammond used his still somewhat salvageable brain to put it in a Simulacrum (in which i headcannon that at the same time they were also experimenting with some supernatural elements, but thats a theory for another day). after 200 years, during a hitjob he found out about who he really was and now here we are...do i need to say more?...really? Okay then: Hammond showed that they can brainwash simulacrums for an extensive period of time (200+ years i believe) in order to make them believe that they are actually human (even tho climbing a 15 store building, turning into a shadow and stabbing people with hands isn’t very...human). So in Rev backstory (and in the simulacrum lore) Hammond shows that they have the capacity to brainwash brains since the simulacrums are in a way cyborgs, being 99% robot and 1% human (that would be the brain btw). So using these techniques on a human would be very easy (i think?, i don’t know a lot of Simulacrums cuz they’re not real)

5-”THE broken ghost”

I want to touch upon is the name “The Broken Ghost”, i know that people believe that it’s actually Ash from Titanfall 2 (because spoilers she died), but don’t you think it’s weird that even 10 years after the main campaign, they couldn’t bring Ash back? I know that Simulacrums are diferent from robots, but couldn’t they just repaired Ash? And to answer myself: No. You see Simulacrums have an internal brain that is used to datastore information, but Rev is a special boy cuz hes handsome and his storage system is external, so in another words, when she died in the explosion caused by when a Titan is destroyed (or worse if you did an execution on her), her brain was destroyed, thus meaning that there is absolutely no way to bring her back. And yes, i just debunked the theories about how Ash is actually the broken ghost. Speaking of ghosts, that brings me on another point

6-Revenants and Ghosts

I wanna talk briefly about real life urban legends. First the Revenant myth is that a phisical deceased person who returns from the dead with an eternal rage for revenge, they are strong, smart and imortal, only leaving the world of the living when his thirst of revenge is sated (which fits very well for our baby boy Rev from Apex Legends)

And the Ghost is a spiritual deceased person who starts haunting the world of the living, sending chills down the spines of those who looks at them.

While yes their backstories are similar, their main diferences is that Revenants are corporial, and ghosts are spiritual, aka, Ghosts have the ability to dissapear and make people wonder if what they saw was real or not. Sounds familiar? If not, let me spell out for you: Mila. In the Crypto’s backstory, she suddenly dissapeared from Tae’s life, even in a surreal way since his life suddenly came crashing down overnight. And even better: If she was truly the broken ghost and got introduced in the Apex Games next season, that would really mess with Crypto’s brain, cuz his paranoia would make him wonder if his sister was back for real or not.

7-”Hold up”

-Said the handsome reader, scratching their brain (and yes i write fanfics)-”What does that mean for the future of Apex Legends and the storyline?”. I look at them, with the fire of knowledge burning through my eyes-“Let me tell you about the Winter Soldier movie from Marvel”

One key element from the Winter Soldier is that he was being brainwashed by Hidra (a Marvel version of the Nazis) and Bucky Barnes would transform into a emotionless killing machine, ready to kill the next target or those who got in his/Hidra’s way. But one thing that would turn him back into a normal human is his best friend Captain America, that through his pursue and persistence, by the end of the movies he saves Bucky from the brainwash trance and later movies he becomes Captain’s ally (and my OTP don’t @ me)

So if everything i talked about here is correct, heres what i think it’s going to happen: By the end of the storyline, it’s going to be revealed that Mila is alive, but she has been brainwashed by Hammond to kill Crypto. Even tho hes the main target and it would go against his better judgement, hes going to try save Mila from the brainwash trance, and not only that, hes going to use the help of Mirage. “Mirage?”-Asked the reader-”What the heck does Mirage have to do with an complicated story about family reunion, betrayl, saving someone from brainwash and fighting against a evil corporation?” and for that, i call Tom Casiello yet again (and a piece of Tae’s past):

8-Mirage, Casiello and a letter

In a early Season 5 tweet, Casiello confirmed that Mirage and Crypto’s story is far from done, and they would have many misadventures together, and while everybody (myself included) read it as Cryptage fuel, now i can confirm that Crypto is going to need Mirage’s help to make Mila remember who she was. You ask again ”But why Mirage?”, well, while i was researching Crypto’s page on the wiki, i found a peculiar letter that he sent for someone: “[Mystik -- I survived my first match, with only two broken ribs. Being as safe as I can, and keeping my distance. Unfortunately, the others are already asking about the Tower. The one Legend you love confronted me on the dropship. I thought he had evidence, but it turns out he’s just an idiot.There are two others here who are BIG guys. Like your son. Very intimidating. I’m sure one’s a sociopath, but I may have judged the other too soon. His name is Makoa Gibraltar, and he’s here to help Legends survive. I always chalked the Games up to neanderthals trying to prove something. Turns out some of them have a strong code of ethics. Ironically, the only neanderthal I’ve met trying to prove something… is me. Burn this letter as soon as you receive it. Will write when I can. Family forever. --TJP]” (https://apexlegends.gamepedia.com/Crypto)

Now you’re wondering “what the heck is that letter? Who is “Mystik” ”, and according to the wiki, Mystik is Crypto and Mila’s former caretakers at Ticacek Orphanage in Suotamo, aka the closest person they had to a parent. And in the letter, Crypto knows that Mirage is Mystik’s favorite legends, showing that him, Mila and their caretaker watched the Apex Games together

Thats where Mirage comes in: Crypto is going to use Mirage’s handsome and familiar face to remind Winter Soldier Mila the past, and then try to deactivate the brainwash (and headcannon, we are going to visit Angel City (the place where Mila and Tae used to live together) and collect parts of Crypto’s past and then bring it back to try make Mila remember who she was, but the FBI and Hammond is going to stop the legends)

Oh, and before you leave, ask yourself this: “How can a ghost get broken?”, now, instead of trying to find an answer, i’ll be kind enough to respond it to you (you’re welcome ;) ): Mila is the ghost that Hammond broke and put it together into Winter Soldier Mila, and then Crypto is going to have to break the ghost again to put back the right pieces

(I wanna thank everybody that somehow read everything, i do apologize if broke my english in some parts, it’s not my first language, also i would appreciate if yall could share my theory. It’s because i worked so hard on it, and it’s probably only going to receive like 10 likes and 3 reblogs. Also if you have a piece of information that could be considered important for my theory, please do let me know)

part 2 here

[courtingstars]

Notes on The Vanishing Prince, Chapter Three

Yay, Chapter Three at last! I had more notes than I expected, probably because I was looking forward to writing all of these scenes for SO LONG.

This was a pretty self-indulgent chapter on my part, for a lot of reasons. XD But I hope it still included some enjoyable moments, for those who have been looking forward to Furihata and Akashi’s feelings for each other progressing!

So keep reading for notes about Reo’s tarot skills, Akashi’s reasoning about his emotions at this point, and Furihata’s bisexual ogling of BASICALLY EVERYONE. (I can’t lie, the idea of Furi literally staring at everyone around him trying to figure out if he thinks they’re hot or not was super funny to me? Which was probably obvious. //laughs)

(Cut for tarot stuff, notes about platonic vs. romantic feelings, and me rambling on and on about bisexual representation and how I’m way too emotionally invested in N700 trains…)

Mibuchi and Tarot Cards

Some readers might be wondering if I made up the idea of Reo (I always call him Reo even though I use his surname in fics, I can’t help it, he’s just Reo to me??) being able to read tarot cards. And the answer is, I did not! According to one of the canon fanbooks, Reo’s special talent is tarot card reading. Back when I started planning The Vanishing Prince, I knew basically nothing about tarot cards. But I thought it might be interesting if Reo’s hobby appeared in the fic, since there’s going to be a lot of supernatural stuff going on.

Then I randomly started learning a little bit about tarot cards last year. I decided to explore it further, partly to write this fic, and partly for other writing-related reasons. (And it turned into this whole bizarre slash amazing THING that I won’t go into here.)

But anyway, a little over a year ago, I actually did a real-life tarot reading for Akashi, just to see what came up… And weirdly enough (or not, according to people like Reo, haha), the cards I drew fit PERFECTLY with the plot of this fic! So for the reading in Chapter Three, I used the same cards I pulled that day. That’s also why it uses the classic Celtic Cross spread layout, because I was still learning the basics at the time.

(I also did a reading for Furihata on that same day… So did it fit with this fic too, and will it come up in a future chapter? We will see. //grins)

Needless to say, I’m still no expert on the tarot! But I did my best to show how the cards could apply to what’s been happening in the story. (And what may happen later as well…) I also tried to balance the more traditional meanings of the cards with Reo’s interpretation of what they could mean for Akashi. Many experienced tarot readers like to use their intuition and the images on the cards as a method to interpret a reading, rather than the traditional meanings alone.

Reo will be in this fic a lot, so I don’t want to say too much about my characterization of him just yet… But I’ve always thought of him as someone who is guided by intuition in many ways, based on his canonical skill with the tarot. So I felt that he would probably mix traditional card meanings with his own instincts as he saw fit.

Akashi’s Feelings and Platonic vs. Romantic

So given how attached Akashi (Oreshi) clearly is to Furihata at this point, I think a lot of readers might be wondering why he still thinks his feelings for Furihata are platonic? Which is… an excellent question. //laughs There’s a LOT going on behind that, which is going to be unpacked over the course of the story.

But this chapter does briefly mention a part of his reasoning, so I thought it was worth pointing out… At the end of Chapter Two, Oreshi mentioned his other self was ignoring a major reason why he still believes his feelings for Furihata are platonic. In this chapter, Akashi mentions that reason in a different context:

“Akashi was under the impression that romance was supposed to include certain urges, about wanting to kiss and touch the other person. Supposedly, it involved a form of physical desire that was intense, possibly even explicit… As far as he knew, Akashi had never experienced any of that.

“True, he was still young. But teenagers were supposed to want to kiss each other, at the very least. Weren’t they?”

I didn’t connect it directly, but this is what Oreshi also meant in Chapter Two. Basically, he’s under the impression that romance has to involve certain forms of physical desire. And he isn’t experiencing that toward anyone, as far as he knows. Again, there’s a LOT going on there, and it’ll come up again in the fic. But it’s worth mentioning, since it’s not exactly obvious!

Personally, I find the question of what makes a relationship platonic vs. romantic to be really interesting… Especially since some people have romantic relationships that aren’t as physical. The nuances can get murky, so that’s definitely been a part of Akashi’s internal debate, which started back in Part Two of Storming The Castle.

About That Locker Scene

So now on the topic of being self-indulgent… I really couldn’t resist including that Seirin cameo scene. XD I love Seirin SO MUCH, and I really miss writing about all of them! Plus, I thought it would be kind of funny to answer a question that absolutely no one asked…

Which is, if we assume that Furihata is attracted to Akashi, then which guy would he find the most attractive on his own team? I honestly can’t remember why I came up with an answer to this question. //laughs But I did at some point, and now you all know my theory. (Basically, ikemen/pretty-boy point guards who are very skilled, but don’t have the most successful humor and are actually kind of huge nerds? Lol.) I also had a backup answer, which was probably obvious in the scene too. XD

And on a random side note, the phrase “some kind of magical ab factory” is one of my favorite phrases I’ve ever written. Pfft.

Also, if you’re wondering why the Rakuzan players didn’t get more of an appearance this time, don’t worry! You’ll definitely see more of them soon. (A lot more. Probably way more than anyone wants. //laughs)

On Furihata and Bisexuality

Anyway, in all seriousness, I’ve been looking forward to writing these scenes where poor Furi is trying to figure out his sexuality for FOREVER. There are a lot of reasons why… The two biggest ones have to do with LGBTQA+ representation, and explaining a key part of the romantic plotline of the series.

So I’m sure a lot of readers were wondering how in the world Furihata managed to be in denial for so long about his attraction to Akashi… Especially given that he’s called Akashi handsome and pretty, and has literally been ogling him for most of the series? //laughs So this is loosely based on something I noticed when I was younger, both in terms of my experiences and those of people I knew. When I was a teenager around fifteen years ago (I know, the dark ages, haha), the concept of bisexuality was really underrepresented, and often ignored. It did exist, in theory. But a lot of the time, most people just assumed you had to be gay or straight—or otherwise you were confused/undecided. Which was, of course, not exactly helpful.

The Spark of Light series takes place in 2010. While the overall understanding of bisexuality was improving by that point, there were still plenty of issues (and still are, to be honest). Also, the idea of bisexuality wasn’t necessarily being discussed in mainstream Japan… Being attracted to more than one gender has existed in their culture for a long time, of course. (Just look at their history and literature!) But from what I understand, due to a whole bunch of complicated reasons, there hasn’t been the same emphasis on recognizing the modern idea of bisexuality as there has been in, say, Western countries. That being said, things in Japan are changing a lot recently. And I could go into that, and how fascinating it is, but I’ll save it for another day!

What I do want to emphasize, though, is that not very long ago, a lot of teenagers tended to assume they were either gay or straight, period. For all kinds of reasons, many of us didn’t really consider anything else. And because of mainstream social conditioning—and homophobia—it often made sense to focus on your attraction to the opposite gender, without trying to figure out if you were attracted to other genders as well. To be honest, I’m guessing this still happens in a lot of places, given how much pressure there still is to be straight/have heterosexual relationships.

Which brings me to the issue of representation… One of the places I used to notice a lack of bisexual representation, oddly, was in fandom. Back when I started to post fic online (circa 2005), if fans had a headcanon that a character was attracted to another character of the same gender, it was typically framed as, “They’re gay.” Even if the character had relationships in canon with the opposite gender.

In fanfiction, this was often explained with something along the lines of, “He thought he liked women, but he really didn’t/was repressing his sexuality.” More often, the issue wasn’t addressed at all. Of course, gay-but-repressed is a completely valid interpretation, and happens in real life! But I always found it kind of strange that no matter how much the character seemed to have enjoyed their past relationships, people rarely concluded, “They’re bisexual.” I see bisexual headcanons a LOT more in fandom now, which is awesome! And I really wanted to contribute to that.

So when I started A Spark of Light, I knew Furihata would be finding out that he’s bisexual. I wanted to go with that interpretation, instead of implying that Furihata never actually wanted a girlfriend when he joined Seirin, or that he was confused, etc. I also wanted to attempt to portray what it’s like to be attracted to more than one gender, when you’re still figuring out your sexuality and you suddenly realize you’re attracted to more types of people than you originally thought you were? (And that some of the attractive people you ogled, but just assumed it was in a purely aesthetic/platonic way, were actually some of your crushes. //laughs)

So long story short… Furihata having such an obvious crush on Akashi, and yet not realizing it for so long, was definitely intentional! (Whether or not it worked well in the story being a separate issue, haha.) Because sometimes teenagers don’t hear often enough that they could be bisexual, so they don’t fully consider it, and it can take a while to figure it out, and sexuality can be fluid/change over time… And also, adolescence is generally a kind of weird period in life. XD (And so are the ways that social expectations affect our self-perception, especially when we’re young.)

In any case, this is just the beginning of Furihata exploring that issue, and what it means for him. But I wanted to make sure to clarify some of it as soon as possible, to give some idea of what I was trying to portray.

And Finally, Some Feelings About the Train Scene

I have to admit, I got a little emotional when I was FINALLY able to write Furihata riding on another N700 train, and thinking about how he has a crush on Akashi. <3 I’ve been looking forward to this moment in the series, and for Furi to realize he’s always been attracted to Akashi, ever since I wrote this part in The Fast Train to Kyoto WAY BACK in the fall of 2015:

“Akashi was sitting beside the window, just like before. He had a laptop computer balanced on his tray, and was typing away. Furihata couldn’t help noticing that he looked more unreal than ever. The ember-like glow of the sunset shone on his skin, mirroring his crimson hair and eyes. He looked like a picture of some kind, and way more mature than a teenager, with his blazer slung over an armrest and his shirtsleeves rolled up at the elbows.

Furihata had meant to speak first, maybe make up some excuse for running off, or even apologize for being such a nutcase. But when he opened his mouth, his tongue and throat felt strangely dry.”

So yeah, that’s how far back some of the foreshadowing goes. XD; I do enjoy writing subtext, but it’s so nice to finally be at a point in this series where the characters are having to face up to their changing feelings, and figure out what it means for them going forward. Also, I’m just so happy that I was able to get to this part, even though it took so damn long! It was worth the struggle. <3

I hope those of you who have been following this series enjoyed the chapter! And I hope you’re as excited as I am to be going back to Kyoto with these precious nerds. (It might get a bit intense, I won’t lie. //laughs) The next chapter is more or less ready to go, so my current plan is to post it in about two weeks. And I’m also hoping to post a lot more of the story during the summer. <3

[kirin-jindosh]

C-can you write me headcanons for Kirin falling for someone who’s marked and has supernatural powers? Like an alternative passive ending where Corvo/Em defeats Kirin but instead of frying his brain they send the reader to live in the mansion and never let him leave their sight and keep him in check? Thank uwu lovey

I gotchu babbie. This is A LOT btw. That’s why it took me so long haha. also “Thank uwu” is the funniest shit 

Headcannons For Kirin x Marked One:

He’s initially, of course, outraged about the entire situation. Had he known that his involvement with the Duke would lead to him getting a personal nanny, as he liked to think of you, then he would have just thrown himself off his balcony years ago. 

Not only do you occupy every space that he occupies–except, thank the outsider, for the bathroom–you also attempt to make conversation with him regularly. 

Your job is to make sure he’s not continuing his clockwork project which, to Kirin, might as well be worse than having been put in the electroshock machine. If he’s not working on the clockworks then he’s wasting his time and his potential. They are and will always be his greatest creation and all other work he might accomplish pales in comparison. 

He also particularly hates how often you flirt with him as though your situation is not the analogical equivalent of an older sibling waiting to tattle on their younger sibling. He refuses to even play your games as a way to retaliate, though he occasionally will make it very clear that you have no chance with him due to your, as he calls it, “intellectual divide.” Doesn’t matter if you’re very smart or not–Kirin will always see himself as the superior intellect. 

Will try to sneak away from you every now and then. You might have supernatural capabilities, but you have to sleep at some point. But, being a friend of Corvo’s, you are rather intuitive of deception and you always–always–find him scurrying through the halls like a rat avoiding a mouse. 

Gets incredibly humiliated when you pick him up and carry him back to his room to tuck him back into bed like a child. Serves him right. 

After a while his curiosity will get the better of him and he’ll grow bored without the option to work on the clockworks. He’ll finally break down and suggest that you showcase your array of void magic so that he may take notes and study you. 

At first, you’re a little suspicious of this. If he studies you, will he find a way to bypass you and escape? You decide that it’s pretty unlikely for anyone untouched by the void to completely understand it anyway and you agree. 

Your void magic gives you powers such as: the ability to pass through solid walls, to move backward in time to where you were standing up to ten seconds before, to hear the thoughts of others and implant your thoughts into their minds, and to cause blindness in up to three individuals. You could also self-heal to an extent which, surprisingly, he found the most interesting and spent an entire afternoon asking you about. 

Sometimes he’ll take advantage of the fact that you can read his mind and he’ll imagine putting you in the elctroshock machine just to get a rise out of you. You retaliate by picturing him in a scandalous sexual scenarios that make him blush and scoff at you.

He grows used to your new daily routine of studying your abilities. He even helps you discover a couple more through the application of bone charms and runes that he has shipped to the mansion. He’s very proud of himself for his contribution and he often reminds you that you should be very grateful to him. 

You’ve grown fond of him. You hardly ever flirt with him anymore because it has become apparent to you that you have actual feelings for him. 

He’s noticed this lack of teasing and has shockingly missed it. He berates himself for such ridiculous feelings. He still plans to escape from you some day, but at the same time he can’t help but admit that he’s quite complacent where he is now. 

It’ll get to the point where you start letting him get away with certain things that, maybe, Corvo wouldn’t approve of. Maybe not human experimentation or clockwork production, but you do let him sneak out at night and work in his lab. You watch him still, watch him mutter and talk to himself and you feel grateful that Corvo decided to spare him. 

He knows you’re there, in the shadows, watching him work. He appreciates the respect you’re giving him by not intervening. 

One night, he’ll break the silent compromise and he’ll pull out old clockwork blue prints and you’ll have to intervene. The two of you will argue and he’ll get frustrated about the constant surveillance. You’ll say that you still have a job to do and that if he starts working on the clockworks again, you’ll have to tell Corvo. 

You say that you don’t want to do that, that its the last thing you’d ever want to do because the second Corvo hears that Kirin’s stepped out of line, he’ll come and finish the job. And you can’t let that happen, not now. 

Kirin wonders what you mean by that. 

A few days will past before he realizes what it means. A few more days will pass before he realizes that he, shockingly, reciprocates the feeling. 

He’ll approach you, inevitably, though it will take even more time. He’s not an expert at this because he’s never had to be fluent in this sort of thing. Nevertheless, he’ll see it as a challenge and he’ll be very blunt and literal with you, stating that he knows you have developed feelings for him and that he, too, has come to develop these same feelings. 

You’ll just raise an eyebrow at him and he’ll get a little perplexed, a little flustered, wondering if he was somehow, miraculously, incorrect for once. Then you’ll sigh and telepathically communicate to him, “Don’t expect this to change anything. I’ve got my eye on you.” He’s actually quite relieved to hear it.