#doesn’t really make sense but eh whatever

[studiogrimm810]

Dreams Come True

pairings: (pining) sam winchester x gn!reader, dean is kinda there

summary: the brothers request your help with hunting a djinn and after being under its manipulation, you realize you can't ignore your feelings for sam forever

warnings: angst, graphic depictions of crime scene images, open but happy ending, unspoken feelings

word count: 5,138

A/N: i don't know how to write shorter stories. pls send help, thx

———————

As you pulled into the parking lot of some dingy diner you scanned the area in search for a particularly sparkling Impala that stood out like a sore thumb. Upon the confirmation of the vehicle, you knew Sam and Dean were waiting for you inside. It had been a few months since you'd last seen the brothers and it caused a low churning in your stomach, a sickening curl to your intestines that made you nauseous. You love the Winchesters, you truly do, and you would drop everything if they needed a hand like now, but your problem was in fact that you loved one specific Winchester a touch too much. It was exhausting.

Ever since you could drive, you have been on your own. Your parents weren’t much help to your development, and honestly the only real reason you’re as functioning as you pretend to be is because of your Uncle Rufus who stepped up in raising you. He kept an eye on you when his brother failed but you had always had a sharp sense of independence. So, the second your uncle's friend, Bobby, fixed you up a car to claim as your own, you were gone.

And you pretended it didn’t hurt when Rufus didn’t put up a fight.

The forced and minimal choices of your life lead you to be fiercely independent and taught you not to rely on anyone for a thing. You had your own car, your own way of living, and your own set of personal, strict, rules that you follow to a T.

Rules that come so close to being bent in the presence of one, Sam Winchester.

You force yourself out of your car and through the parking lot to the lightly rusted doors smudged with greasy finger-prints. That’s it, next time you get to choose where you and the boys meet up. Surely the food here is good, and the waitress who is taking Sam and Deans drink order looks kind enough, but being on the road most of your life leads you to have a distaste of cheap and greasy spots where their healthiest item on the menu is probably the tomatoes that top their hangover burgers.

Sam and Dean have sat on the same side of the booth and they both smile warmly as they spot you enter the diner. The stale but warm air laced with french fries and left over maple syrup from breakfast washes over you and your mouth waters at the thought of a sweet dessert topping that’s become socially acceptable first thing in the morning.

Eh, maybe this diner isn’t so bad.

Making your way to their delicately selected booth, your stomach twists in a tight knot again at the sight of Sam. A beautiful splitting smile that cracks his face to allow little beams of whatever the fuck makes him so stunningly happy at this moment is partnered with a trademark dimple threatening to suck you in and never loosen up. You smile back at both of them.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean beams as he and Sam stand in unison to greet you. Dean hugs you first, a firm grip that’s a little too tight because he knows you can handle it and he doesn’t really want to help himself. “Missed ya,” he pulls away to ruffle your hair and you try to glare at him while swatting away his hand but you can’t wipe off the smile these two have infected you with.

Sam is next, wrapping his strong arms around you. “Been too long,” he utters out with a slight groan that often accompanies a hug like this, but maybe it’s also because you can tell he had more to say. His arms are big and encompassing, wrapping around you like a cloak that shields away just enough of the outside hustle and bustle to let it just be you two in this moment. It’s so protected and safe in this moment that you can’t help but reply with an equally weighted echo of, “too long.”

After warm hugs that seem to stop time, the boys sit back in their spots and you take the roomy booth opposite of them. Dramatically stretching out your arms, you shoot them a sly but innocent smile. “Good choice in table, boys. ‘S comfy,” you yawn involuntarily.

“Glad you’re livin’ it up, your highness,” Dean teases, tapping the table idly as the waitress returns. You control the attitude threatening to manipulate your face as Dean gives the poor woman googly eyes masked with a quite dashing smirk.

After a harmony of simple orders, the waitress smiles out of obligation for a tip and heads to her next table.

“How’ve you been?” Asks Sam, and damn him. He just has to keep watching you with eyes that are warmer than the coffee Dean insisted on having this late. You settle in your seat, leaning back and running your nails along the beveled edge of the table.

“Good, same old, same old,” you shrug. It really has been quite boring with you recently. You worked a case a few states over, then picked up a few odd jobs to rake up some money again to get you through another case.

“How’s the Toyota?” Dean looks out into the lot for your white sedan parked across the lot. It had been an inside bit between the two of you, he liked to tease you for sticking to such a confident opinion that your little ‘match-box car’- as he coined it- was in fact a more comfortable and reliable ride than his baby. You really didn’t have such a strong opinion, but for the way it ruffles his feathers, you’d die on this hill.

“As good as ever, and grandpa?” You tick your head to the 40 year old car in the lot. Dean clutches his chest with an offended inhale and twisted look of hurt at the Impalas nickname, gifted by you.

“Immoral,” Dean’s face is straight with a flash of cocky know-it-all holding his chin high.

One day you’ll admit that the common denominator between the two cars would most definitely be the servicer of Singer Auto Parts. The man performed miracles on any old hunk of metal you took him.

“Okay, okay, put the measuring tape away,” Sam chuckled, enjoying the bickering between you two. Dean bit back a ‘they started it’ and just took a far too big gulp of his coffee to shut himself up.

“How ‘bout you two? What made you call me out here tonight?” You ask, looking out the window that overlooks probably 80% of the town that is really only a grocery store, a main street with a handful of vendors, and a couple other buildings that you didn’t take the time to specifically identify at the moment. Sam’s warm smile that tore all eyes from the moon cast high in the sky melts down to his polite not-so-fantastic-news smile.

“We’re tracking a Djinn,” Sam explains, pulling out a few books, topped with John's journal, from his computer bag. He sets out the books and snatches one specifically to flip through and turn for you to look at. You scanned the page: silver, lambs blood, poison, dreams? You had vaguely heard about Djinn before but you never really took them seriously. It was one of those creatures like fairies that just seemed so out of your league that you never put too much time or effort into researching it.

“Thinking it’s going along I-81, collecting victims where it can and bleeding ‘em dry,” Dean explains, his own expression turned serious as well. He tracks his finger along certain lines in the text that highlight an important note: ‘Djinn use a poison through physical touch to incapacitate their victims and keep them in a comatose state as they drain their blood over any given period of time. Djinn often give their victims a false reality that some describe as “too good to be true” to keep their bodies calm, stable, and comfortable in such a neglected state of being.’

“They feed on blood? Like vampires?” You ask, cringing slightly. Although you envision yourself to be a strong, smart, quick hunter, blood is your downfall. You make a point to avoid vamps by yourself for this very reason and the boys know this, so they must really need help if they’re asking for your assistance in a case like this.

“Kinda, yeah. Same diet, different harvesting,” Dean shrugs, making the connection for you that makes you want to gag. You force down a few sips of water to settle the tickle in the back of your throat before continuing.

“So how are you tracking this thing? Like how do you know someone has been its victim?” You ask, wondering what the physical proof left behind on a person was inflicted by such a creature was. Sam shuffles through the stack of literature, pulling out a dull, manilla folder and setting it in front of you.

“It’s sloppy, doesn’t clean up after itself at all,” Sam’s hand rests on the top of the folder, holding it closed so that you don’t open it too fast. “It leaves its victims strung up,” Sam explains, removing his hand but still watching you with a silent warning at the contents behind this thin veil. You open the folder and immediately cringe, your head turning to look away but your glued eyes prevent you from turning too far. The first image is a young woman, probably couldn’t even legally drink, with her wrists tied above her head. She’s dirty, bruised, decayed. An IV still connected her neck to a metal frame next to her that would supposedly host plastic blood bags. “Some Djinn passively feed, others drain to save for later.” You swallow thickly as you realize the IV was to rid her of her own blood.

The thought is sickening.

The image is beyond words.

But you persist. Your now unsteady fingers reach to flip the image, finding a police report behind it. The woman was 19- just a girl. Your chest aches, this really is the hardest part of the job- the loss. Her name was Amani and she was going to college for journalism. She was reported missing when she didn’t show up for her editorial meeting on campus. Her boyfriend reported it. Her parents followed up. There was an image attached, from her and her boyfriend on Valentines Day. She looked so happy and so full of life.

You close your eyes to get a hold of yourself. You swallow down your emotions, opening your eyes again to flip the pages again.

The next picture was of another woman, displayed in a similar manner. Her blonde hair stained with rotted blood and you almost mistook her for a brunette. Smeared makeup lined her vacant eyes and a beautiful necklace rested along her clavicle. Turning the page, you learn this woman's name was Eliza, a 39 year old mother of four. A portrait framed a lovely family. She wore the same necklace and you assume it was a gift from her husband who stood tall and proud next to her.

You closed the folder, unable to take in any more. You nodded lightly, looking between the boys. “I’ll help, just tell me what I need to know,” you state. The hardest thing about this job was also your biggest motivator. Preventing this awful fate from befalling another innocent family.

You felt that it was too late for your own chance at love, life, happiness, but that it was now your responsibility to make sure that was an option for as many people as you could save. You felt it was your one true purpose.

This was something that Sam admired about you, your relentless need to help others. To use your knowledge for the betterment of others. Yet, it was still something he wished you were more selfish with. He could tell the effects that the stories and images of these poor victims had on you but you ignored your own limits and boundaries to fight for those who still stand a chance. It was a horrible hero’s curse, really.

Sam’s smile reassures you, even if it’s the sweet, pitying one that he offers those in distress, because something in the glint that shines in his eyes tells you a truth you want to ignore.

“We can kill it with a silver dagger dipped in lamb's blood. We just need the blood,” Dean pulls out his phone to check his messages. “Which is ready for us, courtesy of Frankie,” Dean tips up his phone as if to cheer. Frankie was another hunter friend in rotation, he wasn’t really someone you would team up with, but you’d accept his tools and supplies anytime.

Sam packs up his stack of books, stuffing them in his bag. “Dean has to drive out about an hour to meet Frankie, you and I can stick back and I’ll catch you up on the lore.” Sam offers, zipping his bag up and shoving it aside.

———

The rain outside was persistent, heavy, and unforgiving. You stood at the motel window, glaring out to your car getting a half-assed wash that it so desperately needs. After packing in as much Djinn knowledge as you could get, you and Sam decided to call it quits for the night and wait on Dean.

“So what’s the plan? Do you know how to find where this thing is going to be next?” You asked, turning over your shoulder to spot Sam who was cleaning up his gun, shiney metal parts lined neatly on a cloth next to him.

“We have a hunch, another woman disappeared from her workplace last night. Amani, the college student, was found in an abandoned greenhouse that no one used anymore on campus. The mother, Eliza, was found in some old stock room at the animal shelter she volunteered at. The woman who disappeared last night, Carmen, worked at a museum as a tour guide. There’s a ruined exhibits graveyard in the basement, I’m betting she’ll be there,” Sam explains, continuing to clean his gun. His hands flow in precise motions over the weapon, cradling it and caring for it like a delicate piece of glass.

“Are we checking it out tonight when Dean gets back?” You ask, moving to sit on the free couch that will end up being your bed. Sam glanced out the window that you no longer silhouette, checking for headlights, before returning to finish reassembling his gun.

“Yep, that’s the plan,” Sam nods, setting the pristine gun on his bedside table and putting away his kit.

Once he’s finished, he stays sat on the edge of the bed, glancing over at you as you pick at the tears in your jeans. You couldn’t get those images out of your head and you itched to save Carmen before it’s too late.

“How’re you feeling?’ Sam asks with kind words that don’t mean to pry but just to chip what he can. He knows how much time you spend alone on the road. You’re such a sheltered and lonely person but he doesn’t want that for you. Sam can see past the tough exterior and into the shell of just a person who craved to be loved and taken care of. He wanted to be that person for you.

“Antsy. Dean should be back by now, no?” You ask, continuously picking at your jeans but gazing out the window once more. Sam follows your lead, nodding in agreement but returning his main focus back to you.

“He’ll be more careful in the rain,” Sam explained, his soft eyes holding room for the tension he captures behind them. “The others had been missing for at least a week before they passed, we have time,” Sam assures, hoping that you don’t stress yourself out too much over this.

“Talk to Bobby recently?” Sam continues, missing the small talk that you two haven’t really shared yet. He can tell you’re more tense than usual, it’s like you’re distancing yourself. You look up from your knees, the messy pit that makes you sick stirring in you yet again as his eyes match yours.

“Last week, just to check in,” you said, offering a suspiciously less amount of information than usual. Your leg bounces against its prop on the coffee table before you.

“You can talk to me,” Sam urges, keeping his eyes on you as you dart from your knees to the window and then to him. You don’t know what’s with you right now specifically, but the tension of the unspoken feelings bubbling under your ribs is becoming a real bitch.

“Just a stressful few weeks, nothing I can’t handle,” you smile assuringly. He can see right through it, but he decides to let it go for now since the familiar rumble of the Impala growls outside, awaiting its two passengers. Sam lets out a defeated breath, standing and grabbing his coat and gun. You jump to your feet, ready to get this show on the road. You slip on your own coat and check yourself over to make sure you have everything you need.

“What’s a little more stress, huh?” Sam jokes sarcastically, making a mental note to keep an extra close eye on you. You scoff a dry laugh, leading the way to the Impala while Sam locks up the room. The ten feet to the vehicle being enough to soak halfway through to your skin.

“Fuckin’ rain!” You exasperated, sliding into the back seat and letting the comforting heat of the Impala warm you right back up.

“Tell me about it, can’t see a damn thing,” Dean complains, his wipers on full blast and his defroster bellowing a low hum through the car that you had to speak over.

Dean’s years and years of constant driving cause for good reflexed and skilled roadwork as he navigates the slick roads, leading you three to the main event.

After a pop-quiz and mostly dried clothes, Dean pulls the Impala around the museum and to the back entrance that neighbors cellar doors that lead straight down. Once everyone is caught up, loaded with the proper weapon, and ready to get soaked again for a measly few feet of travel, they pile out of the car and to the latched and locked doors. Dean skips the pleasantries of Sam simply picking the lock and just shoots straight through the already rusted metal.

Dean descends first, followed by you, and finished by Sam.

The room is inky black and thickly dank, the moisture almost making it difficult to breathe. Echoing drips of supposed leaks from the rain sing around the trio, making it nearly impossible to locate one specific stream. Dean kicks on his flashlight and you and Sam follow.

“Stay close, stay alert,” Dean instructs, going to look up a nearby hall while Sam checks a few closets and you scan the main area for clues. There are dozens of totes down here full with scrapped art supplies, broken furniture, and piles of betrayed books. Nothing is standing out, though, so you follow behind Dean who has progressed up the hallway. Sam watched both yours and his brother's backs.

A loud clunk echos from the opposite side of the basement but the echo makes it bounce around to the main room you three had landed in. Sam jumps to double check to make sure that behind them was clear and Dean retreats from the room to see what’s going on. You shrug at Dean's raised brow and progress further into the hall, taking the lead.

You turn down a corner to find an even longer hallway with more off-shoots that basically make this place a maze. You sigh heavily, dropping your light a tad and look back at the brothers who have closed the distance between you surprisingly fast.

“There's too much ground,” you whisper to them both. Sam’s face contorts into a ‘no way, don't even think about it’ but Dean's interruption stops Sam from speaking his protests.

“They’re right, Sammy, we’ll cover more ground,” he whispers, trying to reason with his brother, “just stay close, no more than shouting distance,” Dean lays it out like he’s your father, but you listen because you trust his judgement. At the moment at least.

You have a hard time being too far from Sam, though. Seeing the aftermath of the Djinns' torment makes the uneasy swirl in your stomach worsen, but this time it isn’t at the ball of nerves that Sam's presence tweaks, it’s the thought of him being strung up there like a piece of meat. You have to rationalize that Sam is a grown man. You have to take a deep breath and assure yourself that he can handle this. After all, it is him and his brother who invited you to this hunt. You were the novice here.

After scanning over a few rooms, you progress further down the hall, and the further you go, you start to hear it. Soft whimpers, like helpless cries, sirening you to a room at the far end of the hall. You know you should grab one or both of the brothers’ attention, but you can’t help yourself. The images flash again- desiccated husks of once lively people dangling like a crude ornament. This has to be Carmen and you have to help her.

Your heart races as you get closer to the cracked door that pours out the skin-crawling whines. As you turn the corner, there she is. You're halted for a moment, frozen as you take in her state. A poor woman with her hands bound above her head and a dried trail of blood staining her temple. She has a similar IV but she isn’t still like you imagined, it’s almost like she’s experiencing sleep paralysis.

The poison is running out. Sam told you about this, you remember. The poison inflicted by touch only lasts so long and the Djinn needs to come back to dose its victim again. The Djinn will be back soon if it isn’t stalking around already.

You really should’ve grabbed the boys’ attention.

It’s too late for that now, though. You fish out your pocket knife, flicking it open and approaching the zip-ties that cinch Carmen's wrists.

“You’re okay, I’ve gotchyou,” you murmur quietly, hoping to god she can hear you just a little bit. Just enough to know that she’s safe now. You look around the room, keeping an eye out for the Djinn. You support most of Carmens weight into your side, stepping cautiously back out into the hallway. You almost make it past the barrier but a low growl from behind you makes you jump.

The figure behind you is a dark frame, shadowy and devoid of any light under the glowing blue tattoos and beams of eyes. It’s like the creature is pure nothingness despite its veins of sapphire lining its figure. As it steps out into the light, moonlight floods in just enough that you can actually see past the light-polluted skin of what looks to be just man. Well, a man that’s almost eight feet tall and glowing like he just stepped out of the Chernobl blast.

Carmen starts to stir, muttering something incomprehensible, but you ignore it because there is no time anyways. You stumble back, the Djinn looming over you. You manage to set Carmen down gently enough to leave while you lead away the creature that lurks closer and you can tell it’s furious with you. You can see it in his eyes. The cool blue that should be a calming, and if anything- dull, color instead pierced through your chest like an alarming red. You take bigger steps back before flipping a table in your path and darting the opposite way.

The piercing metal followed by an angry growl was definitely enough to get the boys’ attention and startle Carmen to be fully conscious again. The brothers call after you, their words dying in their throats as they round the corner to see Carmen on the ground. Somehow, during your short-lived rescue mission, you managed to settle your coat over her shoulders. Sam instantly recognizes that it’s yours and while Dean quickly crouches to her aide, Sam flashes his light to the mess of a spilled table on the floor. A few paint bottles are still rolling along the cement.

“Dean, get her out of here, I’m going after them,” Sam says without looking Dean's way at all. This time it’s Deans protests that go unspoken.

—---

Freshly ground coffee is Sam's specialty after being gifted a gourmet coffee bean grinder for Christmas. Ever since then, he’s gotten up before you, just like usual, but spent the better half of his morning crafting the perfect blend of coffee that you got to taste test along with blueberry and lemon muffins that Dean and Cas brought last time they visited.

Your guilty pleasures usually starred your mornings, overly sweet breakfast items followed by way too much caffeine from many taste-tests, and even a special morning delight from yours truly.

Your mornings were the absolute highlight of your day and a great way to start the day too.

Comfortable footsteps climb the steps outside of your bedroom door, and soon, Sam’s large figure spills through the frame, filtering in like an early sunrise. Sunshine that is hopeful, trusting, blindly accepting of things to come. His eyes rake over your body that’s half out of the blankets due to overheating from the night and he looks along the sleeplines you have acquired on your thigh, up your hip, and stretching out to your lower back. Exposed, lush skin, calling him in like a lustful sin.

“Good morning, my love,” his voice wakes you up enough to smell the mouth-watering blend of fresh coffee and warm muffins. You prop your head up just enough to smile fondly at him as he sits on the open bedspace by your legs. He sets the muffin wrapped in a paper towel on your bedside table along with your steaming coffee.

“What’s the concoction today?” Your sleep-dampened voice makes Sam smile a bit brighter. His hand rests on your exposed leg, running his palm up your thigh, over your underwear and back down.

“I mixed some of that Brazilian blend with the last of the hazelnut dark roast,” he tilts his head so his face is level with yours, still running his lightly calloused hand up your skin, untainted from the survival of The Life. You hummed in delight from the goosebumps that blessed your silky skin and also in anticipation at the mention of one of your favorite flavors.

You close your eyes to stretch and Sam just watches as your body twists to land on your back, but as you go to sit up, his face falls into a grimace as his hand quickly comes up to pin you down. You’re fully alert now, heart racing.

“S-Sam.?” You test, unsure of why he’s acting this way so suddenly.

“N-No, don’t go, you can’t leave me,” he shakes his head, a heartbreaking expression painting his gorgeous face.

“I’m not going-.”

“You need to wake up!”

Another Sam echoes in your head, and your own face contorts in confusion. Your heart is aching.

“Don’t go, please,” the Sam that pins you down begs.

“Please come back to me…”

He sounds broken, scared, so lonely. You shake your head, shoving Sam off of you. He looks offended, hurt. But this isn't right. No, Carmen, The Djinn. No.

No.

The poison.

The facade.

No.

The poison.

“C’mon, you’re okay. You have to be okay,” roughly calloused hands run over your cheek, a thumb tracing under your eye. You’re dizzy and disoriented, but you already can tell that this is what’s real. This Sam is real. The fogginess in your ears clear up as the pattering of rain fills the noise. When you can pry your eyes open enough, you see Sam crouched in front of you. He breathes out a heavy puff of air, a soft laugh escaping his lips. An expression that is strictly joyous lights up his face like a guiding moonlight in the dead of night. The kind of light that exposes the danger of things, and the price at which they come.

It’s the kind of light that floods everything about your dream downstream, carrying away the silly scenario. The kind of life that people like you and him never get.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, but this time he believes it.

A crack of thunder lights up the sky. A shocking mix of light you don’t quite understand. It’s not a beacon you can fizzle down to some self-justifying reason because it’s just a simple flash of electricity. It’s a crack in the storm above. It’s not some metaphor to make you feel better about your choices. It is a singular bolt that shatters through the night sky, starting you because you didn’t expect it.

Just like you didn’t expect the man in front of you to be the man that he is. He isn’t some ignorantly blissful lazy morning, and he certainly isn’t some moody, grey reflection of light that pulls at your dread. He is simply the split second vein of light that came out of the nowhere storm that is your life. But unlike the crackle of light in the sky that disappears before it’s even heard, he’s not flickering away because he found his conduit that will house his stay.

It’s him.

It’s you.

And you realize that you’ve been a fucking fool.

You push up to hug him tightly, eyes wide and heart still racing.

“Sam.” His name blesses your lips for the first real time. This time you’re accepting it, you’re allowing it.

His arms secure you close and he buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment the boundaries between you two broke, but you knew they were crumbled to dust by the way he held you.

One of his hands wrapped all the way around your back to rest against your ribs on the opposite side and his other cradled the back of your neck.

This wasn’t a hug out of just a close call, this was a hug that made up for lost time. It wasn’t just the rush of saving your life, it was the flood of allowing yourself to feel what you so desperately have been hiding for too goddamn long.

This was a brand new hug with murmurs of brand new names and a brand new set of rules for the both of you.

This was the start of you.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

[gay-thoughts-all-day]

thinking about me between his thighs and sucking him off. thinking about his hands in my hair and pulling him in closer and holding his thighs and how good he sounds when he moans and how pretty my name sounds coming from his lips and tasting him and and and

[rogueddie]

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Ring My Bell

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, mdni 🔞

Based on a fun worldbuilding convo in the SHOM discord that’s still buzzing around my head. Credit to @itcanbepalped and @jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s for vibing on this one

Steve’s parents never wore rings. They said it was gauche; very new money of them.

“Why bother with jewelry on your fingers that will get banged up on your hands when you can wear a necklace,” Clarissa would say when she spotted someone at the club with a ring, or god forbid two! Her own betrothal and bonding necklaces were layered, drawing the eye to her bite.

That was the whole point of a necklace. Either it emphasized a bonding bite, or it highlighted the fact that the wearer’s bonding gland was intact.

Steve had been given a necklace after he presented, a simple gold chain with a bejeweled padlock.

Pretty fucking gauche if you ask him.

Steve wouldn’t have worn it, but it was expected. Plenty of omegas wore something similar; he’d rather have his grandmother’s old claddagh ring, but his mother said it was low class.

So he wears his necklace every day, a reminder that he belongs to his father until he is mated. Then, he’ll belong to his alpha. Legally. At least until Congress hot its act together and passed some of the proposed equity laws.

Maybe his mom was right, rings were more easily lost. They tainted the scent of your hands with harsh metal.

It’s just that he’s seen some interesting ones, shapes so far beyond the standard lock, circle, and eternity knot. Meanings far more individualized than his necklace.

Which is why when the pups start following after Eddie Munson, Steve really notices his rings.

He gets what the book means. Or, he thinks he does. Munson doesn’t wear blockers, ever. His scent is an open book.

And the skull could be one of those gothy, ‘I mate for life’ things.

But the pig makes no sense. And no scents. Pigs don’t typically have a smell worth advertising.

The ring on his right hand is so simple in comparison that Steve gets stymied there, too.

He drops it, not wanting to reveal his interest in anything to do with Eddie Munson.

Steve is perfectly ready to let it stay a mystery until the night he comes to pick Dustin up after Hellfire only for Eddie to be the only one left in the lot, hauling his stuff out to his van. 

“Sinclair got his permit; your chuckleheads all went with him so he could show off.”

“Oh,” Steve says dumbly, only for his brain to catch up and spit out, “And they’ve never heard of a phone?”

“Real butthead behavior on their part,” Eddie agrees with a smirk. “Anyway, sorry you came out here for nothing.”

“Eh, could be worse.” Steve’s thinking monsters or g-men.

Of course, Eddie doesn’t know that. He gives Steve an appraising look. Then he surprises Steve. “I could make it up to you,” Eddie says with a crooked grin.

“How?” Steve asks, swallowing back the ‘not your fault’ that almost slipped out automatically. Because it kinda is.

Steve wouldn’t be here if not for Eddie’s club and the hold it has on Steve’s merry band of twerps. So he’s open to whatever Eddie’s offering to make them square.

He shouldn’t be surprised when Eddie pulls a joint from his pocket, sets it in his mouth to light, and inhales.

He holds it towards Steve as he blows out a stream of smoke. “We can hang, take the edge off your night.”

Steve takes the joint. Eddie grins and skips over to his van, opening the back door and giving a joking bow.

Steve laughs. He didn’t expect to be charmed so easily.

But he is, and after a couple hits he feels relaxed and loose in a way that would be fine in the safety of his bedroom, not so much when he has to drive.

He’s going to say as much, tell Eddie he should clear his head, when his eye catches the shine of silver on his fingers.

It’s like his brain isn’t connected to his mouth as he asks, “Why the pig?”

Eddie looks up from the box of cassettes he’s looking through and furrows his brow. “Huh?”

Steve’s brain must be cut off from his body too, since he reaches out and snatches up Eddie’s left hand.

“The pig,” Steve says, tapping on the offending ring. “Like, the book and the skull I think I got, but I’m coming up empty on the pig.”

“I’m surprised you knew it was a book.”

“But it’s book-shaped!”

“You mean rectangular?”

“But it is a book right?”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s about your scent,” Steve feels smug as he says it.

“I don’t smell like books,” Eddie says, clearly confused. “That’d be pretty awesome, though. Old books smell nice. Unless they’ve been in a basement too long.”

Steve nods sagely. This is obvious wisdom. No one wants to jump your bones if you smell like a musty basement.

Then he remembers his point. “You don’t smell like books, you are a book. Easy to read your scent ‘cuz you don’t wear blockers.”

“Don’t like ‘em. Make my head all fuzzy, and not in a fun way.”

“And the skull is a ‘til death’ thing right?”

“It’s actually a vampire skull.” Eddie points out the elongated canines. “You know, ‘the eternal kiss’ or whatever. I think bites should mean something.”

Steve nods again, feels a weird pull low in his belly. “That’s cool. Not enough alphas I know have that opinion.” He’s seen too many broken bonds at the country club and his father’s company Christmas parties.

Seen too many couples who shouldn’t have bonded in the first place.

“So, what’s the pig?”

Eddie looks down where Steve is still holding his hand. “Ever heard of a truffle hunter?”

“Like the chocolates?”

“No, the mushrooms! You’re rich, don’t you know about fancy mushrooms!”

Steve shakes his head, feels dumb. 

But Eddie just accepts his ‘no’ and moves on, “Well, they’re these rare mushrooms, and pigs like to eat them, so they’re really good at sniffing them out. And that’s me. I fully plan to sniff out my scentmate, and until then…” He shrugs. “Plenty of hot omega pussy to smell.” 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Eddie slaps his right hand over his whole face in shame. “Shit, sorry. Not appropriate in front of an omega. Or anyone. I promise I’m not a creep trying to get in your pants.”

But Steve’s mouth has gone dry. He wears blockers still, for work, the scent neutralizing deodorants and perfumes good at covering up his scent. The only place he doesn’t apply it is his crotch, because no one should be getting close enough anyway.

Suddenly he wants Eddie to be close enough.

He’s still holding Eddie’s hand, can still smell the edge of his woody scent over the weed. “It’s okay,” he says. Turns Eddie’s palm toward him and brings it to his nose.

The metal smell is there. But also pine and herbs, deepened by dark musk. His tongue darts out for a taste.

His hand mostly tastes like skin, a little like salt and smoke, but the scent is still there. Makes him want more. He pulls back, looks at Eddie who is staring at him with awe on his face.

“Okay, Mr. Trufflehunter, how do I smell?”

“You’ve got blockers on-”

“Not everywhere.”

His movements are slow, giving Eddie every chance to back out as he slides his fingers into Eddie’s hair, gripping the side of his head, and guiding him down towards Steve’s crotch.

Towards his wet pussy.

continued in part 2

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unparadiz’d

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, blowjob, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Unparadiz’d - brought from joy to miserie. (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

This is the last of pajama party drabbles. Let me know if you want me to do anything else like this.

“Actually, you’re both wrong. Gladiators were more often highly-trained. In fact, many were soldiers, but they most certainly weren’t slaves,” you intone. 

You can’t help a smile. After more than an hour of chatter over things you didn’t know or care about, the conversation finally sways in your direction. History. That’s your ish. The Roman Empire especially. 

“And where did you get that?” Ransom scoffs.  

Charles rubs your back encouragingly. He hates how you tend to fade into the background. He needs someone who can stand at his side, not behind him. 

“Well, I studied history. Masters, um, but you know, I am always open to learning new things. So, perhaps you might have proof otherwise.” 

Ransom scowls. He hasn’t offered much more than that for most of the night. You don’t take it personally. He isn’t much better with the table full of people he calls friends. As the newcomer, you’ll happily just let it slide off your back. 

“I don’t care that much,” he snorts. “Whatever. Charles, what about that Corvette? Sounds like a broke down train pulling up.” 

“It’s antique. A classic. You would know if you had any sense of taste.” Charles rebuffs smoothly. “Safia, you’ll have to recommend me your chef. Mine can’t make ravioli for shit.” 

You smile prettily and keep your fingers pinched around the stem of your glass. Charles’ friends are the society type. Your own are few and far between and the most you did was go out for coffee or a movie. These people are intellectuals and you can’t help but feel like a pretender. 

“Stealing from me again, eh, Charles,” Safia drawls. “Mm, I might. If you’re a good boy.” 

Safia is gorgeous. Thick black brows, thicker hair, full lips. You can’t tell if she’s flirting or you’re just intimidated. 

“So,” Kimora turns to you pointedly, “you studied history. How cute. What did you study exactly?” 

“Hmph, Marie Antoinette and the like, I’m sure,” Ransom mutters. 

“Um, ancient history, actually,” you speak up. “Egypt, Greece, and Roman. But I was able to explore a bit more in my undergrad.” 

Ransom clucks and drains his glass of whiskey. Your eyes meet his stormy ones. You’re not sure if his irritation is meant for you or if it’s more a general disdain. Every time you speak only deepens his agitation. You might be better staying quiet. You can bear the lecture from Charles after, but the hatred in that man’s eyes pierces like a knife. 

“Well, if you’re looking for any writers on the subject,” Charles suggests, “I give her a five-star review.” 

“No one wants to read about dead people,” Ransom snips. 

You sip from your glass and lower your gaze to the table. You’re embarrassed. There’s really no particular reason to be but the way he talks scalds you with shame. Everything you do is wrong in his eyes. 

“I don’t know, Hugh, some of them are a lot more interesting than you,” Charles retorts. 

“Fuck off,” Ransom snarls. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Oh, my bad. At least Hugh doesn’t sound like it belongs on a dog,” Charles chuckles. 

Ransom slams his hand down, rattling his plate and cutlery, “you’re such a fucking smart ass, Charlie.” 

“Oh, behave,” Safia reprimands, “sit down.” 

“Piss off, mommy dearest,” Ransom spins and stomps out. “Bunch of snobs.” 

As he storms off, Charles laughs louder and Safia tuts and shakes her head at him. Bronson reaches over to take an untouched quiche from Ransom’s plate. “More for us.” 

You stare after the angry man. Something must be wrong. It can’t just be the dinner. It’s been rather pleasant up to that point. 

“Well, we’ve almost finished the bottle,” Charles reaches for the wine. “You’ve got a spare bed?” 

“You know I do, Charles,” Safia affirms. “I had the guest rooms made up. I know you all too well.” 

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t kept pace,” Kimora tosses back with a smirk. “Charles, save some for me.” She puts her glass out and you glance down at your own. You still haven’t even finished your first. 

The night wears on as you once more get lost amidst the garble. You put a word in or two but someone else always talks a bit louder or you find yourself without much to say. Finally, the plates are cleared and you disburse to find a room to sleep in. 

You didn’t expect to stay the night, but Charles seems to have anticipated it. He pulls a black nightie from his leather bag and fans it out on the bed. You stare at the dainty fabric. 

“Oh, wonderful.” 

You wonder why he didn’t mention the possibility. It hardly matters. Charles knows best. 

You change into the night gown. It’s tight and a bit short. You fix the straps as they dig into your shoulders. 

“I don’t understand, it’s your size,” he drawls and belches into his hand, “mm, those prawns aren’t settling.” 

“Are you okay? Should I get you some water?” You offer. 

He waves you off and grumbles as he stomps around the bed. You watch him go then slowly look down at the nightie. Your chest threatens to fall out of the bodice. 

You sit and wait and listen. The tap runs then shuts off. Charles’ wretch follows and his vomit hits the water loudly. You cringe and get up. You go to the bathroom door and nudge it open, “Charles, can I--” 

“Get the fuck out!” He barks and you obey. 

You back up to the bed and sit. You won’t be able to sleep. He’s sick and you just want to make it better. Well, it’s good he gets it out. You probably wouldn’t want someone hovering over you in the same situation. 

You wait for Charles. Twenty minutes before you get up and knock on the bathroom door. He doesn’t answer but as you try the handle, you find it locked. He’ll come out when he’s ready. 

You keep the lamp on and move to the top of the bed. You fold the blanket back and recline, but don’t cover yourself. You turn onto your side and close your eyes.  

As you keep your ears perked for Charles’, you slowly drift down. After the long night and stress of meeting new people, you’re exhausted. You cross your arms and sink into the mattress. Reality is vague on the other side of your eyelids as sleep creeps up your body. 

You lurch away as a door clicks. You roll onto your back and look toward the bathroom. The door is still closed. You blink as a shadow emerges from behind the other. The door to the hallway. 

You lay in disbelief, paralysed in surprise. It’s Ransom. He wears only a pair of silk boxers. He must have gone into the wrong room. 

“Um, hi?” You sit up, “I think--” 

He puts his fingers to his lips and you snap your mouth shut. Confused. Maybe he needs to talk to Charles. 

“Charles is just--” 

He wiggles his finger then points it as you. He comes up to the foot of the bed. He tilts his head as his eyes scour over your body. He smirks. 

“You know about gladiators, huh? Know everything, don’t you?” He hisses. 

“Erm, no, I... no,” you gulp. “I didn’t say that.” 

“But you had to say something,” he snorts. 

“No, I was only... talking,” you tense and bend your legs up protectively. “I’m just about to go to sleep. I can let Charles know--” 

“You can shut the fuck up,” he puts his knee on the bed and reaches for you. He snakes your ankle and pulls your leg straight. You squeal as he hauls you down the bed. “Make another noise and I’ll go find Charles and bash his head into the fucking toilet.” 

“Please,” you wisp. 

“I fucking mean it,” he wrestles your legs down as you try to kick. He crawls over your body to straddle you. You claw at his forearms and wriggle helplessly. “You think you fucking know it all, well, I’m about to teach you the most important fucking lesson.” 

He closes his hands around your throat and you cough. His thumb presses down sharply and you whimper. He shakes you until you’re quiet. Your eyes wet and you try to bat away the fuzzy sheen. 

“You don’t fuck around with me,” he growls as he glares down at you. “I don’t care if you’re fucking that cockwad, you speak to me with respect.” 

You wheeze and slap your hand on the bed. You didn’t mean to. You were just trying to fit in. Why is he so mad? 

“So let’s start easy. Don’t make a fucking sound, do you got me?” 

You nod frantically against his grip as your head pulses from the lack of air. He grins and slowly releases you. He brushes his hands along your shoulders and yanks down the straps of your dress. Your tits pop out and you close your eyes in shame. 

“Look at these things,” he gropes your chest greedily. “Guess that makes up for that mouth.” You sniffle and he pinches your nipples meanly, “look at me, you bitch.” 

Your eyes snap open and round, tears bobbling along the brims. He snickers and flicks his finger up your throat. He pokes at your mouth and toys with your lower lip. 

“I know exactly how to train that mouth of yours. Surprised Charlie hasn’t already,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, forcing deep until his knuckles press against your teeth and you gag. 

He rips his hand away and raises himself on his knees. You squeak as he rolls down his boxers and springs free. His dick bobs as he climbs over you and you shake your head and snivel. 

He grabs his dick and your head. He wrenches you up by your hair, straining your neck as he presses his tip to your lips. You clamp your mouth shut and whimper. 

“Open the fuck up or I’ll break your teeth. Don’t think I’m fucking lying. I’m here, aren’t I?” 

You tremble and give in. Your eyes flow over and blur with the wash of tears. It’s not just the violation, it’s that Charles is right on the other side of that wall. And you’re just letting this happen. 

Ransom rams into your mouth. He shows no mercy as he thrusts down and invades your throat. His hand fists in your hair as his other trails back to your throat. He rubs there as he pushes down to his limit. As he thrusts, he feels himself from the outside, growling and grunting as you gurgle. 

“Yeah, fuck,” He ruts harder and harder. Saliva pastes across your cheeks and your throat sears from his relentless fucking. “That mouth isn’t so fucking bad. Fuck. And those tits. You fucking play with those tits.” 

He straddles just above your chest. You bring your hands up and cup your tits in your hands. You babble and squeeze, squirming as he pumps into your mouth. 

“Like that. Huh? Listen to you. Sounds like he don’t fuck you good enough. He doesn’t punish this mouth how it should be,” he snarls and puffs as you feel the tension cord through him, “oh, yeah... yeah... yeah...” 

His breath rattles and he quakes. He yanks your head up so your mouth is right against his pelvis. He rocks slightly, suffocating you, and suddenly, twitches. You feel him explode in your throat. His cums flood you, rising into your mouth and coming out your nose as you choke and hack. 

You quake and cough as he pulls out of you, inch by inch. Your body lurches as you barely hold back a swell of nausea. He raises himself over you, his dick softening slowly as it shines with spit and semen. He groans and cradles his balls. 

“Actually, you aren't entirely useless.” He taunts. 

[ghostf1ux]

5 Times Jason Saved his the Flock and 1 Time they Saved Him: Maze of Mirrors

Day 8: Panic Attack

Words: 2k

TW/CWs: Joker venom, panic attack

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (here) | Part 5 | Part 6

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

“WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!” Jason roars, grabbing the goon’s collar and slamming him into the nearest surface he can find. Apparently it’s a wooden crate, and it practically explodes with the force of the body crashing down on it. He presses down on the guy’s throat, leaning in uncomfortably close. “If you don’t answer me right this fucking second, a crushed windpipe is going to be the least of your worries.”

The hired gun scrambles underneath Jason’s grip, but doesn’t manage to do much more than piss him off further. He leans more of his massive weight on the guy’s throat, which seems to really put his situation into perspective. He doesn't mind the fact that he's going to be lectured by B later about excessive use of force.

Because it's Joker.

Joker has Red Robin.

Joker has Tim.

“He- he’s in the- the mirror maze–” The goon chokes out, gasping for breath when Jason finally lets him go. 

In a blur of movement, Jason is sprinting out of whatever fucking funhouse he was in and is bolting towards the mirror maze. He taps a button on his helmet, speaking hurriedly into his comm.

“RR’s in the mirror maze,” Jason reports, swinging around the doorframe of the building to keep his momentum. “I’m already here, so hurry the fuck up.”

“If Red’s there then Joker probably is too,” Steph oh-so-helpfully mentions.

“I’m counting on it,” Jason growls in response, barreling down the way too long hallway to the entrance to the maze.

“Hood, stand down. You can’t be trusted being in Joker’s presence,” Batman cuts in gruffly. Jason snorts a humorless laugh at that, kicking open the door.

“Bad signal, B,” he responds flatly before turning his comm off. He grimaces at the dim beginning of the maze, seemingly stretching endlessly in every direction. The scarce lights on the ceiling flicker ominously, throwing off his sense of direction even more in combination with the mirrors. The place is silent, aside from a distant thumping, too frantic to be anything but Tim’s attempt to be heard. Jason shoves one of his gloves in his pocket and uses one of his many knives to make a sizable, but shallow slice on his hand.

“I’m here, Red, where are you?” Jason shouts into the abyss, starting to walk forward with his hand trailing on the mirrors to his right. The toe of his boot thumps against a mirror in front of him, so he follows it and turns. A trail of blood follows him, marking where he’s been so he doesn’t need to double back. If only he had a sharpie or something.

There’s no response to his shouted question.

And then Jason is thrown back to his nightmares, his memories.

Hysterical, mocking laughter echoes through the maze, way too loud to be coming from anywhere but speakers that are stationed on the ceiling. Jason whips his pistol out at the nearest one, shooting it just to shut the man up.

It doesn’t work.

“Oh, Hoodsy, you’ve come to join us!” The Joker’s grating voice finally comes through instead of that fucking laughter. “I was expecting Daddy Bats, but I’m sure we can have some fun too, eh? Just like old times! Boy blunder number two and his Uncle J!”

Joker cackles again as Jason slams into a mirror in his hurried pace. He recovers easily.

“Where’s Red Robin, Joker?” Jason yells instead of going along with that same sick song and dance. 

“Oh, he’s having just the grandest ol’ time with Uncle J. Isn’t that right, birdie boy? Say hiii!” Joker sing-songs. There’s muffled yelling on the other side, then a shout of pain. “He’s sure having more fun than you had, that’s for sure! Maybe I’ll finally get my answer during this little family reunion of ours, hm?”

Joker laughs again just as Jason foregoes all caution, just letting himself slam into mirrors as he tries to find his way through. He’s practically breathless, but not from the effort of trying to run through a mirror maze and body checking a surprisingly durable slab of glass every ten seconds max. Some combination of adrenaline, panic, fear, and rage is making his breath come in short gasps and making his vision narrow as green encroaches on the edges of it.

Jason gets fed up with the mirrors at some point, and tries shooting them.

The bullet bounces off and very nearly misses ricocheting into his chest.

He doesn’t try shooting them again.

His pace picks up as he starts hearing doubles. Two sets of evil, cynical laughter follow him, mock him, for his vain attempts to find his little brother. He punches the nearest mirror with enough force it cracks, spiderwebbing out from his knuckles.

He pauses, glancing between the cracked glass and the other mirrors surrounding him.

And decides that the best way to test his theory is to bodycheck the mirror just past the one that cracked under his fist.

The glass shatters around him as he stumbles to regain his balance, fully prepared to just bounce off the glass, not go all the way through it. The laughter is louder now, somehow.

Oh, maybe because there's a man in a purple suit doubled over right across the dingy secret room he stumbled into.

Scratch that.

There's two people here.

And they're both. Fucking. Laughing.

“Robin–”

“Oh Hoodsy, welcome to the party!” Joker cackles. He throws his arm around Red Robin, around Tim, like he's a fucking friend, and then they're laughing together. Tim's face is stretched in a far too wide grin, and his domino has been ripped off which makes it obvious to see just how fucking distraught Tim is.

“Let him go–” Jason's growl cracks at the end, betraying his… well it's not panic, but it's… no yeah it's definitely panic. Fuck. He thought he was over this. (No he didn't. He just tricked himself into thinking it.)

“Hm, I suppose I should move onto my next joke, shouldn't I…” Joker trails off, then whips something out of his pocket at the same time that he shoves Tim at Jason. “Don't blunder this one, boy!”

Jason drops his guns to catch Tim on instinct, only seeing whatever it was Joker threw after Tim is already in his arms, shaking from continued forced laughter.

And then he registers a small piece of metal clinking against the floor.

And then he registers the grenade sitting at his and Tim's feet.

And in the next moment he's kicking it away and yanking Tim with him to the ground, throwing his body over his younger brother's right as the grenade explodes and shrapnel goes everywhere. He feels the sharp heat digging, tearing into his thighs, his lower back, his ass– fuck, that was going to be annoying to get out later by himself because he was not letting anyone in his family dig fucking grenade shrapnel out of his ass–

Jason blinks as his hearing and vision comes back into focus and all he hears is laughing. He remembers what was happening before the grenade went off, and startles to to straighten up.

“Fuck, shit, Tim–”

Saying his name seems to bring him slightly back to awareness, or maybe takes him further away, because he lurches and scrambles away from Jason at a speed he'd be impressed to see from a speedster. He's grasping desperately at his chest, at his throat, and tears are streaming down his face and–

And fuck, Jason does not know how to handle this. He clips his half mask to his belt and pulls down his hood, then holds his hands up placatingly. 

“Timmy, hey, it's just me, it's just Jason,” He shifts to his knees and fuck does that hurt but it doesn't matter because his little brother needs his help. “Timbit, I can help you, I can get you the antidote, but I need to get you to the Cave first, yeah?”

Tim just curls up in a little ball, making himself smaller than Jason has ever seen him– too small, really, for his age– and folds his arms around his head, over his ears, rocking back and forth. Jason can hear the way his breath hitches and rattles with whatever sobs make it out between bouts of laughter, see the flinches that are far too noticeable to be anything but pain.

“I'm gonna come closer, okay?” Jason shuffles forward, slowly, loudly, for Flock standards at least. He comes up from the side, in Tim's field of view (if he was even looking up) enough that he won't think Jason is trying to sneak up on him, but also not blocking his way forward so he doesn't feel like he's being cornered. Tim doesn't react, not even when Jason comes right up beside him.

“Can I hold you, Tim? I need to pick you up to get you to the Batmobile,” Jason asks softly, hand hovering over Tim's shoulder. There's a moment of– not of silence, not when Tim is still laughing and sobbing in equal measure– but of hesitation, of wavering trust–

And Tim is leaning into Jason's hand. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding before gently maneuvering Tim into his lap, wrapping his arms fully around his little brother and letting him hide away in his bulk.

“That's it, Timmy, I've got you, it's gonna be okay,” Jason murmurs, leaning back against the wall. His hand briefly leaves Tim to inject him with a tranquilizer, but then it's back to card softly through his hair as he drifts off into a (hopefully) dreamless sleep.

Only once Jason is sure that he's out does he tap his comm back to life, listening to the chatter for a few minutes, just letting his own emotions settle to the sounds of his family while he keeps his little brother close, warm, safe in his arms. It's grounding.

Jason finds himself matching his breaths with the sleeping boy, leaning his cheek against the top of his head. He's almost comfortable here, despite the shitty, old concrete he's on and the shrapnel embedded in his backside.

But eventually the chatter dies down and Jason knows he should probably say something, should probably let them know he's alright and that the baby bird is alright, but he's just so tired.

Fucking Joker. Fuck Joker. Fuck Batman too, for letting him live. Fuck him for his rules, his Rule, really, capital R and all. If it weren't for that, then none of this would be happening. He wouldn't still have this kind of reaction to Joker, his brother wouldn't nearly have a cracked rib or three from his mixture of a panic attack and Joker Venom and he wouldn't have been hiding from that fucking psychopath–

“–ood? You okay?” Steph's voice filters into his ear, reminding him that oh yeah, he turned his comm back on. He blinks the rapidly encroaching green around the edges of his vision away and realign his breathing with the little bird's, loosening his grip on him.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine.” Fuck, he's really lost his touch. He really needs to get better at lying to his family. “I've got the baby bird, need the Batmobile for pickup. He got stuck with some Joker Venom, don't know what strand.”

“Is he okay??”

Jason lets himself have the ghost of a smile at Steph's obvious worry.

“I tranq'd him, so he's out for now. And he'll have a shitty wakeup later, after the drug is out of his system. But he's not particularly injured, s'far as I can tell.”

“I will have the proper tools prepared for your return, sir,” Alfred responds evenly. “I've sent the Batmobile your way.”

“B, I've sent you the coordinates of both Red Robin's and Hood's bikes.”

“Don't you dare fuckin’ touch my bike,” Jason growls, but it doesn't have a lot of bite to it, and it's certainly not at the volume he'd normally be at, but that can be easily attributed to the sleeping baby bird in his arms, even if it's a tranq'd sleeping baby bird.

“Aww, don't want anyone touching your baby, Hood?” Steph croons.

“No, I don't, and anyone who does will lose use of the fingers for it,” Jason shoots back as he stands, moving gently so as not to not disturb the little one.

“Adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“You love me.”

Jason sighs.

“Unfortunately.”

[thelonelyshore-if]

sfw for ravi to keep me from going insane pls

Nonnie I'm soooo sorry this is so late I've been going through it. But here's Ravi's alphabet, I hope it brings you some joy <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Ravi keeps his distance. It isn't that he doesn't want to be affectionate, but…he hesitates. Especially with physical affection. He isn’t sure it’s a good idea to get to that close to someone, in a very literal sense. When he is affectionate, though, he likes holding hands and slow dancing together when there isn’t any music. He’s a big fan of just holding hands while you’re having a conversation. Having that little tether of connection is big for him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Infuriating. He'd be infuriating…though he's a fiercely loyal friend. He tends to act on his whims and he can be smug and superior, even with his friends. But he'd love to talk magic and do puzzles together. Much like Croft, if you want to befriend him chances are you're going to have to be the one pursuing it on the front end…unless you somehow attract his attention. Such as, if you wash up on shore in the middle of the night. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Ravi loves to cuddle and avoids doing it whenever possible. Too intimate, too close.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Ravi's house is pristine. He's an okay cook but not actually all that skilled. He wants to settle down in theory (especially with the right person), but probably not in practice. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd just ghost you! You'd never see him again. And if he ran into you in public he'd do his best to avoid you. Full on pretending you don't exist. Unfortunately Ravi isn’t very good with Big Feelings or with confrontations.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The idea of marrying the person he loves is enough to make Ravi shut down completely. He'd love to do it. He never could do it. There's no chance.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically he's very very gentle, barely risking touching you at all. He's also…decently emotionally gentle, but he's complicated. As seen in game he can be kind of a dick. But he can be so soft and tender when he wants to be.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Ravi loves hugs, and doesn’t mind them from friends. Hugs from crushes or a partner are even better, but he'll be much more stressed about them. His hugs are brief, though there's always the lingering impression he wants them to last longer. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take him a while (like. years) if left to his own devices, but I could see a near-death situation making him say it much sooner. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Eh Ravi doesn't really get jealous. He finds it funny when other people try to flirt with his partner or whatever. He trusts the person he's with, and jealousy just isn't really his thing. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Scared. Passionate. Hesitant at first, more uncontrollable the deeper it gets. He likes being kissed on the face and the hands especially, he likes kissing his partner on the hands, too.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Ravi doesn't really get kids, but he likes them. He usually just treats them how he'd treat adults…which sometimes can get him in hot water when he lets a kid or teen do something irresponsible that they Are Not Old Enough To Do. He just assumes kids know their parents’ rules and will follow them lol. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Very much so like the first morning with him in the game!! Except you’d presumably wake up in bed together. But he’d wake up, press a gentle kiss on your forehead. Go start breakfast (unless he’s too sleepy for it), prepare you your favorite drink (even if it’s water), and then he’d wait for you to get up. His brain is shut down early-morning so he’d sit in silence and read the paper unless you prompted conversation, but he doesn’t mind a comfortable silence.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Just as low-key as the mornings, tbh. Share dinner together, and then he’d try to prompt some sort of shared activity. Doing a puzzle together, going for a hike or a drive, even just watching a movie. Eventually he’d shower–probably on his own, it would take a lot to get him comfortable showering with you–and then time for bed! He doesn’t sleep much, but he’d love to just lay with his eyes closed, holding you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Ravi’s very open, so long as you aren’t expecting the truth c:

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not very, but it’s definitely possible to push his buttons. He prides himself on his control, but is kind of addicted to anything that makes him lose said control. Ravi is very, very level-headed. It takes a special sort to get him angry.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Ravi remembers everything. He really isn’t the type to forget even the smallest detail. It’s almost a little unsettling how much he manages to remember.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Ravi’s first date is a hike in the woods c:

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s incredibly protective! Especially when it comes to the fog. That being said, he presents said protectiveness in a very particular way. He believes it’s more meaningful to teach someone to protect themself than rush in to be their knight in shining armor. Minor spoiler, but Ravi will be one of the biggest proponents of MC learning to control their magic. And he’d be flattered if MC was very protective of him, but also amused. In theory, he’s one of the safest people in Easthaven–he can take care of himself.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Ehhhhh it fully depends on the day lol. It’s something he’d like to do, but honestly he doesn’t always think about that sort of thing. Ravi’s a romantic guy, but it’s definitely in his own way, and these kind of details can fall to the wayside.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s a liar. He’s incredibly set in his ways. He’s arrogant, and likes feeling superior. Also he’s not above putting his cold hands under your shirt in an attempt to warm them up.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

In an attractiveness sense, Ravi’s concerned on an average level. He wants to look good, sure–doesn’t everyone? But more importantly, he’s very self-conscious about his scars. He doesn’t let anyone see them, other than the ones on his hands and face, and even those make him feel anxious. Though I suppose it does have less to do with being judged and more to do with what those scars mean to him…

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. If given the chance, MC will become his entire world.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Ravi is scared of dogs. He doesn’t like coffee but loves the smell–he prefers tea. His favorite season is winter, even though he hates driving on ice. He has at least one puzzle that he’s used puzzle glue on and every so often considers framing and hanging on his wall. He hasn’t yet because it feels kind of tacky. When he was a teenager he used to sneak out and fall asleep in the graveyard.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He really will struggle with a MC who is hell-bent on getting out of town. He can work with a skeptic, as much as they drive him insane. He finds it kind of funny and kind of hot, in an odd way. Ravi finds stubbornness sexy lol. But if the person he’s fallen in love with wants to leave him? It terrifies him in a way he can’t explain. How can he in good faith help them do it? And wouldn’t it be equally bad to try and stop them?

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He frequently falls asleep with his glasses on.

[o-sunny-day]

THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS EPISODE 4 DISCUSSION NOTES!!!!

TALK TO ME ABOUT THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS!!! IM BEGGING YOU!!!!

Spoilers ahead :D so many spoilers :D

IVE GOT THOUGHTS!!! That can most conveniently be organized in sections of character analysis… Some Jax and Ragatha are in there too but these are the MAIN ones I have the most thoughts on/thoughts that revolve around them but still include other characters. LETS GO!!!

CAINE!

Allow me to indulge in my PERSONAL favorite thing first before being more general- im getting these out of the way first cause theyre less THIS EPISODE and more how this episode adds to the rest of his character and omg i love him sm….

I loved when Zooble and Jax talked about Caine. I love when Caine specifically is talked about. Cause like- people's opinions of him. I care about a lot. itll ALWAYS be interesting, cause hes THE GUY. THE MAN. THE DUDE THAT PUTS THEM THROUGH ALL THE SHIT THEY HATE AND MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE “REAL” FEELINGS. He’s a really unsuspecting goofy character at a glance who (telling from ep 3) like actually KINDA cares?? Cant tell if it’s for more selfish reasons or what, but he’s clearly PROGRAMMED to care about his guests, so he does.

And some people (zooble) are kinda SCARED OF HIM and FOR GOOD REASON???? Like yeah no shit, Jax. Caine has the power to do ANYTHING including killing you…torturing you for all eternity. fun stuff like that!

But he won't! cause hes not programmed for that. So he wont.

Also side note: Caine said in the last episode “Zooble! look at this cool bee I drew!” and on his desk he just has a shitton doodles of bees. This is all he does in his free time.

Second more important side note: Caine glitching out at the end feels important, but also feels like just a comedic moment. and idk what to make of that. LOCKING IT IN MY HEAD EITHER WAY CAUSE IT CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD ON THE FIRST VIEWING SO MUCH 😭

LAST THOUGHT: I would LOVE for him to gain sentience cause I have a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t right now telling from how he’s literally PART of the circus they’re in… HM… Cause telling from Gummigoo it IS POSSIBLE for AI to gain sentience…. Foreshadowing perchance… OH YEAH, GUMMIGOO!!!

GUMMIGOO!

HE TOTALLY RECOGNIZED POMNI AROUND THE END OF THEIR INTERACTION. his face changed when she said that none of this is real in front of him, HE KNOWS. SHE KNOWS. but they also understand Caine wont let him stay. Kinda like a Sans (kill me) moment of “ik none of this matters, but since it wont last, I’ll at least be happy doing it!”

Something I love about the writing also…This being a very rushed adventure that Caine didn't get to spend a lot of time on explains WHYYYYY GUMMIGOO IS IN THIS. LIKE THIS WASN’T JUST FOR THE PLOT IT ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE???? all of the NPCs in it are unfinished or redos. He didn't have time to make new ones. ***I JUST LOVE THAT THAT'S SO SMART***

GANGLE.

i'm obsessed

Her taking off that smile mask and actually smiling with her real face KILLED ME. shes learning to be her authentic self and I love it

Jax constantly breaking her happy mask, making her reveal her true sad face feels like the equivalent of bullying the quiet kid like- she's always just pretending to be happy/okay, but then him harassing her makes her “break character “ (EH??? EH??? BREAK??????? CHARACTER????????? MASK?????????WHAT??????)

But Gangle going crazy I think is a sortaaaa “metaphor” (there's a better word but I cant think of it) for how pretending to be someone your not can make you the person you hate. Like she was kinda abusive in this episode… People who are awful people were all victims once, technically- not ALL ofc cause nothing is black and white n all that, but you get me-

IN GENERAL…

i think the motif of this episode was pretending to be someone you're not, for whatever reason you have. Not just for Gangle! For Jax, its to entertain himself, keep em sane. And for Gangle, its for everyone else. But for RAGATHA…I feel its both. She wants to feel useful/helpful for herself for selfish reasons BUT she also just wants to be useful/helpful for everyone else for kind, caring reasons. I already got that vibe before this episode, but Gangle talking about how she cant tell when Ragatha is being genuine or not makes me very confident this is the case

I thought Gangle was gonna abstract in that last bit of the episode, and im like 99% sure that was intentional. I love that a lot… I love how this show is written, abstracting was introduced right away, so now its a looming threat across all these characters youve grown to love, appreciate, and relate too

Idk what Gangle getting hit by the truck was a reference to, but part of my brain rot theorizing in me wants to say this digital world is basically Hell and thats how she “died” before getting here. Doesnt make any godamn sense and the truck thing totally has other explainations I JUST CANT THINK OF ANY!!! PUTTEM IN THE COMMENTS BELOW AND DONT FORGET TO HIT THAT BEL- *gets shot*

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Get Some Rest

Warnings: Mentions of a bau case, brief mention of drinks with Garcia, reader is sleep deprived, fluff!, some pining, no established relationship, that should be all but let me know if I missed anything<3

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

A/n: This was something that the lovely @criminalskies asked for and I was very happy to deliver! I hope you enjoy it sweetheart<3.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13 @randomuserrs

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

Hotch can always tell when you’re not doing so well.  Whether it’s because the case is extra tough on you for some reason.  Or you’re not getting enough sleep.  Whatever the reason may be, he just knows when you aren’t okay.  

The team is currently on a case and you are all in the precinct unfortunately having to wait for the unsub’s next move.  You are all lost and all you can do is wait for the unsub to slip up and leave something behind.  You’ve all tried to figure this guy out but none of you are getting anywhere with this case and it’s exhausting you all, but Aaron can tell it’s really bothering you even more.  He doesn’t know why it’s getting to you, but that’s not his main concern with you right now.  For now, it’s just him wanting to help you however he can.

You’re sitting down and hunched over a file that you can hardly read.  You’re so tired that all of the words seem to be blurring together and coming off of the page, the same page that you have been trying to read for about ten minutes now but you can’t comprehend anything on it.  The entire team is tired but you are completely exhausted because this case has been keeping you up.  This has resulted in numerous cups of coffee that you have been guzzling almost constantly and when you go to take another sip of your current cup of coffee, you realise you finished it about five minutes ago the last time you reached for it.

You stand up and make your way out of the room in search of more caffeine, but you don’t hear the footsteps trailing behind you because your senses are a bit dulled from how tired you are.  All you can focus on now is finding that coffee and once you pour yourself a cup, you feel a warm presence next to you.  You turn to look at him, you know it’s Hotch because you always get a specific feeling when he’s near you.  It’s something you’ve never been able to explain even to yourself, but when you tried to explain it to Penny during one of your little gossip sessions over a couple of drinks, she seemed to completely understand what you were trying to tell her.

“Are you okay?” He asks you quietly, he knows you aren’t so he’s not sure why he even asked.  It’s probably just what naturally comes out when he sees you struggling.  It’s not the first time he has asked you this knowing full well that you aren’t okay.  

You’re too exhausted to try brushing him and his concern off and putting up a front to act like everything is fine, so instead of doing that, you just shake your head in response and set the cup of coffee down as Hotch brings his hand up to rub soothing circles on your back.  The bags under your eyes match the ones that never seem to leave Aaron’s face and it breaks his heart a little bit.

“When was the last time you slept?” The concern on Aaron’s features is clear to you even in your sleepy state.  You really try to think of the answer.  You want it to be accurate but you aren’t really sure at this point.  With everything that has been going on with the case and how terribly it has been going, sleep was the last thing on your mind recently.  “I don’t know.  Yesterday?  Maybe the day before?  I’m not sure.” You rub at your eyes a little, trying to rub the sleep out of them.  You’ve been trying to do that all day but of course it hasn’t helped one bit.

“Come on.  Let’s get you back to the hotel.  You need to sleep.  You haven’t taken a break since we started this case and that’s not okay.  You’re draining yourself and I won’t let you do that.” Aaron’s voice is soft but you know that there is no room to argue with him so you just nod and let him guide you out of the precinct in your half asleep state.  

He helps you to one of the black SUVs and after you’re safely inside, he tells you to wait there for a few minutes.  He knew you couldn’t have kept yourself awake long enough to have him drag you around the precinct so he can inform your colleagues of everything.  Everything meaning that he tells all of them to call it quits for the night and to also get as much rest as they can before morning comes.  

The next thing you know, Aaron is gently shaking you awake and saying your name.  Apparently you had fallen asleep in the car before he came back and now you’re outside the hotel.  You are only half awake but it’s enough that you can both get up to your room and once he has you inside, he helps you lay down on the bed before also helping you undress.  He folds your clothes nicely and helps you into your pyjamas.  

He moves to step away from the bed after he gets you all tucked in but even though you can hardly keep your eyes open, you manage to reach out for his arm.  “Don’t go.  Please stay.” He can’t help but smile at your sleepy voice and mumbled words and he sits on the edge of the bed.  “Okay.  I’m here.  I promise I won’t go anywhere.” You smile at his reply and how gentle his voice is.  He tends to keep it soft around you and you love it.  You can feel the way his hand plays with your hair a little and then the thought occurs to you.  You don’t want him sleeping in that suit because you know he won’t be comfortable like that.

“You can borrow some of my pyjamas if you want.  That’s not really the most comfortable thing to wear to bed.” Your words are still mumbled as you lazily gesture to his work attire with your hand.  Another smile creeps onto Aaron’s face as he thinks about your offer.  He would love to wear something of yours.  The idea makes his cheeks heat up just a little and he nods even though you can’t see it now that your eyes are closed.

He stands up from the bed and finds your go-bag and grabs one of your shirts and pyjama bottoms before changing.  Once he’s back by your side, there’s a smile on his face as he climbs into bed next to you and the smile only grows when you immediately wrap your arms around him and pull him closer.  It makes Aaron’s heart flutter and in return he of course wraps you up in his embrace as you rest your head on him.  His cheeks flush even more when you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and his hand finds its way to your hair for him to start messing with the strands there.  

You’re starting to doze off now and he makes sure to keep holding you tightly in his arms as he plays with your hair and gently scratches your scalp which pulls little hums from you.  “Just get some rest, okay?  It’s alright now.” His voice is the softest you have ever heard it and it’s the last thing you hear before you fall into the deepest and most peaceful sleep you’ve had in a long time.  In fact, you think it’s the best sleep you have ever gotten in your entire life and it turns out to be the same for Aaron.  

Aaron ended up falling asleep shortly after you did and he thinks it’s because he was holding you as you clung to him.  You being so close and the way both of your scents completely relaxed the other was enough to shut both of you off for the entire night.  And if Aaron happened to place a few soft little kisses on your forehead right before he fell asleep, well then that only added to the safeness he made you feel even if you didn’t know it because you were already off in dreamland.

[r0semaryt3a]

Some pre/during Yorknew Phantom Troupe Identity hcs + Illumi and Kurapika

I do not care if you disagree with these- my word is not law and honestly I want to hear some other headcannons so feel free to drop them down

Chrollo Lucilfer -

Ah Chrollo, my wife <3

He/him (surprising the masses after my wife joke)

Bisexual (no pref)

Monogamy - don’t even suggest otherwise it will be shot down.

“My identity? I’m a bisexual man…hmm? He/him.”

Feitan Portor

He/it

Has not and will not ever think about it (if he likes you he’ll date you he won’t label it)

It would be like pulling teeth trying to get him to answer on his identity. Like, it’s just not important to him. Why do you want to know so bad? Just call it whatever, it’s not gonna humour you with a conversation anyways.

“He.” ‘is there anything else?’ “It.” ‘And your sexuality?’ “…like you, date you. Simple.”

Phinks Magcub

He/him

Straight

Messed around once - quickly learnt he was indeed straight

These people really don’t see the prevalence in their identities so they’re all pretty blunt on answering.

“Eh? Why’d you wanna know? So what? I’m a guy. What? I like girls sure.”

Machi Komacine -

my absolute favourite

She/her

Messed around w gender for a bit; doesn’t care but will let you know “she’s a girl”

Bisexual - fem pref

Was the opposite of Phinks - thought she was lesbian then messed around and realised she was indeed bi

“Call me whatever…I’m a girl though.”

“I mean I like everyone, I think? Girls are probably better. No they are”

Woman has to double check with herself whenever asked, it’s like answering a quiz

Franklin Bordeau

He/him

Homosexual

Like one of the only ones who’d give you a straight answer if you ever asked

“I’m a man and yes, I like men.” Type of answer

Uvogin

He/him

Bi - male pref (the phantom troupe is just a bisexual chat room atp)

I Cannot decide whether I like Nobunaga or Shalnark w this guy

You’ll find out from fucking around with him. In no world is he answering you.

Pakunoda

She/her

THIS WOMAN IS LESBIAN NO DEBATE

L e s b i a n

Can imagine her being the only one of the group to just have her identity down from day dot

Definitely had a fling with Machi at some point that didn’t work out (they ended on good terms obviously. I can and will go into lengthy detail as to why I believe they had something going in the past and weren’t still together during Yorknew)

This woman is the died in the arc she first appeared in rep I needed!

“She/her honey. I like girls, that’s all that’s to it.”

Shalnark

Does not care

Pan

Literally just a colouring book, do what you want he won’t correct you (there’s nothing to correct to)

“Oh? Hmm, well I’ve never really thought about it much. It makes sense for me to be pan though, I guess!”

Nobunaga Hazama

He/they

Homosexual

He’s like that grandad that tells you about his time out in clubs and you’re sat going: “YOU? YOU did those things?”

“I’m a homosexual.”

Hisoka Morow

Call this amalgamation of a human whatever you want. As long as you can fight, you can talk to him/j

Type of guy to make a “Yours” joke

I really don’t see Hisoka caring for what people see him as. Like you wanna call him a he? Go for it. She? Sure why not! They? It? All on the table!

Another bisexual - his preference is fight me

Would 100% be down for poly, but depending on his attachment would also demand monogamy

“Why don’t we set a date and you can find out hmm~?”

Shizuku Murasaki

She/it

Straight or Aro, one or the other she’s either heavily into romance or completely repulsed and I can’t decide which I think it is.

Will blink at you for two minutes before sighing a response

“Well I don’t mind she or it I suppose.”

Kortopi

It/its

Aroace

I don’t really have that many thoughts on Kortopi so this is like all I’m giving

bonolenov

He/him

No one really has a clue on his sexuality and he doesn’t tell any of them, ever. Like he knows what he is, but he just never says it

Illumi Zoldyck

He/Him?

He’s never really thought about it much, after-all aside from family it’s not like most people will live long enough for his identity to matter

Sexuality? Who knows! He sure doesn’t. Does he even like people? Who’s to say!

“What does it matter? I’m a man by all accounts, so refer to me as such.”

Kurapika Kurta

He/they

Bisexual

I don’t even really know why he’s on this list tbf.

Will give you his whole coming out story if you ask about his identity. You’ll be there a while.

This was actually really fun to sit and do-

[billskeis]

RAHH could you make a tom kaulitz fluff like how the female reader is younger 2 years so like hes 17 while shes 15 and he helps her with her homework 😅 they ARE together btw :)

2006 tom :)

ᡣ𐭩 tom helping his gf w math

“i’m back!” you turn to look around at tom who enters his bedroom with drinks and snacks. you were currently staying over at his place so he can help you tutor. “hi tom…” you sigh heavily as you stare at the paper beneath you, many questions, but it remained blank.

maths wasn’t your best subject, but phew! could the tom kaulitz do his algebra.

“still struggling?” he sits down on his seat next to you as he leans on the desk with his head resting arms that fold on top of it. “thank you, and yea.. i just—it doesn’t make any sense to me!”

“hey hey, no need to get frustrated,” as you slam softly on the table, somewhat shaking the coca colas in the iced glass cups. “just break it down, okay..? can you do that for me? the way i taught you.”

despite his deviance as a junior, tom does quite well on his academics. which maybe, is why he chooses to prioritize fun over school. he never really required the effort in doing well because he was just naturally born with it.

you on the hand, not so much.

and it wasn’t like this for every subject, luckily. it was just math. whatever you did and no matter the amount of effort you put into it, always ended with you failing. it’s getting tiring and overwhelming at this point.

which is why your math teacher had assigned you tom as a study buddy, a tutor. none of you really fought against this, that being that you were together.

“now y/n, i don’t know if you know mr. kaulitz but he is quite the troublemaker.. don’t want you in the wrong crowd now eh?” your math teacher asked you sternly, to which you could only nod to.

little did he know that this little troublemaker was your boyfriend.

“okay y/n, so just take it from the top.. you do this.. and then,” as tom continued to explain the strategies in solving the equations, all you could do was stare at him.

the way his lips move as he addresses the concepts, how he writes his letters and numbers, the eye contact? you swear you couldn’t focus.

“tom, i can’t do it…” you bring your head down. it upset you. he was going out of his way to help you, even though it was a punishment from the math teacher despite being his best student, you felt as you were being ungrateful and totally useless.

“schatzi, it just takes time.. i don’t expect you to automatically be good at math just from this one night.. we’re just getting started!”

and although he makes the effort to comfort you, it wasn’t helping much. you just lacked the motivation.

shifting, he leans his body toward you, leaning his head down to face yours. his eyes fluttered beneath his lashes. he puts your hands in his as he caresses them softly.

“how about this, you do a question, i’ll give you a reward,” your head perks up in curiosity, “a reward..?” “mmhm! just a small one though, for each question. how about that schatzi?” you contemplated, but anything from tom would be good! so you agreed.

finishing the equation, you place the pencil down to revise your work to ensure that everything was correct. you turn in the office chair a bit to face tom who was already paying attention to you. “all done?” “yep!”

tom’s eyes scan the paper, blinking. you bite your lips in nervousness worrying about if the hard work you’ve done was all for nothing and it ended up being wrong or incorrect, worse, none of it made sense to the point where tom couldn’t even see where you went wrong.

“good job baby!” tom places a kiss on your cheek that leaves you stunned, all you could do was look at him, eyes and mouth wide open, “your reward of course..” “do it again,” “what?” “tommmm, please?” he just giggles and pushes you away softly when you want to kiss him again.

it made you feel all bubbly and fuzzy again, you don’t know what it was.

was it tom’s scent that wafted your way for just a second that made it so addicting for you to get a sense of him close again? was it how soft and gentle his lips were on your cheek that tickled you slightly?

or was it just, tom?

“no baby! finish another question and you can get another one,” ruffling the top of your head to mess up your hair. pouting, you look down. a part of tom feels bad, so he just leans closer to you. little did he know this was all apart of your plan to place a quick peck on his lips once he was caught off guard.

he backed away so quick, face a beet red. he wasn’t the only one who was able to fluster you, “you little..!” “can’t blame me, you wouldn’t give me what i wanted!” “now you’re in for it..” tom tackles you to tickle you onto the ground.

laughter and giggles filled the room, you and tom play fought for some of the night. eventually, the two of you got tired and worked up an appetite, leaving the bedroom completely empty to go eat.

the homework was completely forgotten, but that can wait.

(you guys never got the homework done and both were scolded by the math teacher)

[rosemariad]

SUPERNATURAL SEASON 15 - THE BITTER END - SERIES FINALE

We finally made it here.

Ooooooooh boy. 😬

The opening for THE series finale felt out of place to me.

You’re gonna waste minutes on this really?

How about a discussion about how they beat God, like they actually managed the impossible - 2 dudes just take the fight to the OG master & creator of the universe and won that shit with some plan they pulled outta their asses. Their surrogate child went on to become the next primordial being to reign over the universe. But no, we’re not gonna even talk about any of that.

Coulda done a million different things even with the COVID restrictions (the two actors in a room across a table, do whatever to keep them safe) but whatever 🤦🏾‍♀️

So after God comes vampires w/ masks? Really SPN?

The minute Dean slammed the Impala’s trunk shut after sundown made me nervous (that would be the last time he’s with his Impala, the last time he ever sees her w/ his own eyes 🥺😭)

Out of all the folks to pull outta the SPN peanut gallery you pick that random chick from 1x20?! Jenny?! Just to kill her off anyway (so I spoke too soon, vampJenny is the official last female to die on this show)

Ah…the nail of imminent demise

That final shot of Sam & Dean was toooo fucking intimate.

Suddenly the Wincest people aren’t so crazy. Why are y’all encouraging this?! Dude, they’re brothers!?! #brothersnotlovers. They could’ve done it like the end of Pearl Harbor where they got Ben Affleck crying over Josh Harnett’s body in the crash. Gimme weepy Sam, that Oscar moment. Dean died sooo young 🥺😒 younger than Mary (I know she was technically in her thirties but TBH she was 64/65), bobby, Rufus, Ellen & John. This is why we can’t have nice things😔

Cas is gonna be so saaaad. He always fought so hard for Dean's sake, only for the guy to die so young…it’s an insult - an outrage really. Dean fought so hard for so long only for him to say - it was always gonna end this way?! 😡

He didn’t have to make it to old age (though he deserved to) but don’t let him die like this. All accepting so soon after resolving the meta plot 😔 there were things Dean probably wanted to do and now, he’ll never get his chance. He could’ve settled down with someone (it wouldn’t have been Cas since he got killed off already but shit I would’ve settled for Dean to settle with anyone for a minute, like Sam did) - also would’ve been nice to hear from Jody or Donna and others one last time but hey fuck the side characters 🤣 (oh COVID the scapegoat that keeps on giving - it’s like the showrunners forgot the convenience of modern technology).

So Chuck definitely won - he's no longer burdened by having to deal w/ the universe and one of the Winchesters died anyway. Not exactly as planned but they never broke free, not really. I totally subscribe to this theory. Especially since it’s alluded to that Dean Jr - Sam’s son - is a hunter also at the time of Sam’s death by old age (we think…I’m just saying that’s an awful not of tubes and stuff for the old man, maybe just to monitor his heart rate/health - eh)

The Sam wig is bad but eh - doesn’t bother me - we’re talking about a CW show wrapping up a project, it’s not the end of the world people, the plot is what matters and the plot here is a fucking shit show my lord. It’s not the first show to suffer a shit ending for a show that captivated worldwide audiences, but damn this is a bummer.

But yay for Sam apparently - couldn’t think of a better name for your son than Dean Jr.? It only makes sense to make the kid a junior if it was Dean’s actual kid, like Dean would’ve been Dean Sr. And his boy would’ve been Dean Jr. or Dean W. The II. And and hello there Woman Whose Face we don’t get to see (really committing to limiting women’s presence in the show - again probably blaming in on COVID but if you have a literal baby with this giant man, you can chance a woman being there in an actual camera shot where we can see her face 🙄) Back to Dean - again cuz of COVID? I guess - we don’t get to see him reunite with anyone (not his MOM even?) except Bobby for like 1 second and then he’s just driving around in his car. No roadhouse, no fishing, nothing but sitting in his car, alone killing time until Sam inevitably returns to him.

Oh what a shame…

So that happened I guess. SPN was something else, for better or worse. Probably never gonna get a show like that again. They tried it with the Winchesters spin off about a supposed alternate universe MaryxJohn thing and friends but honestly if its not about the Winchesters brothers or Destiel who cares 🤣 they pretty much wrapped up Sam & Dean’s stories thanks to this finale but Dean (per the Winchesters flop) could be brought back into the fray somehow if they wanted - but hey that’s what fanfiction’s for 😁

Well SPN it’s been interesting…sort of.

On that note…

I wanna thank the fans of the show, your hot takes, memes and general fervor over this show/story is what finally made me watch it all. Cuz I remember the TV spots from back in the day, cruising the CW channel on weeknights after school. I was too busy watching other shows to give SPN a chance while it aired. So thank you 🙏🏽

[mythica0]

!!epic fic idea!!

Lee!polites? Ler!ship crew, euryloches, or odysseus?

Good friends

🎂: epic the musical

🧁: Polites

🍫:Eurylochus, Odysseus

Summary: Polites has a bit of a… problem. And he’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. Of course, his friends find out anyway, and decide to help him out.

A/N: thank youuu! Normally I would request a scenario but I already had one in mind for this so you lucked out. We love Lee!Polites 💕. This is pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope who’s talking when is clear, and the story is as well. I also don’t really like the title but whatever. ENJOY! >:3

Good friends

Polites woke up.

Aaanddd… immediately knew that it was gonna be a long day. There was a buzzing, fluttery feeling under his skin, and a nagging desire settled in his chest.

A lee mood.

He’s had them before. And it always makes the day seem significantly longer. Of course, he could just ask, but that’s so embarrassing!

And, in addition, it’s not easy to hide. He knows that if his friends find out they will tease him relentlessly. Not a very fun experience.

So, yeah, he tries to hide it with his life.

He sighed and got out of bed, it’s no excuse to miss work. He tried to ignore the fantasies flashing through his head.

“Hey captain!” He tried to act normal. This is fine. He’s fine. Nothing is different. But, apparently, he was having an off day. Because whereas usually he can go fairly unnoticed, Odysseus immediately knew something was up.

Odysseus tried not to show the suspicion in his face. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Polites was.. off. He was… I don’t know, restless? He looked like he couldn’t sit still.

“Polites. How are you today?”

“I’m well! You?”

He wasn’t lying. (Polites was a horrible liar.) so it wasn’t something that was bothering him..hmm.

“I’m good as well.”

“I’m glad. Any tasks for me today or just the usual routine?”

“Ah, nothing special today.”

Odysseus also noticed he was gesturing with his arms less, as if nervous to expose himself. Eurylochus walked up.

“Hey there. mornin’”

“Eurylochus. You slept well?”

“Eh, I’ve had better.” Eurylochus also immediately noticed Polites was off. He kept getting distracted mid conversation.

“Ah, sorry to hear that!” Polites responded, chipper as ever despite his… off-ness.

“I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go start work, see you two later!” And Polites walked away.

Odysseus turned to Eurylochus once he was sure that Polites was out of earshot.

“Does Polites seem off to you?”

“Oh, absolutely. Glad it’s not just me.”

“Oh yeah, not just you. Something is definitely going on. The question is what? He isn’t upset.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem like he’s sad or something. We should keep our eyes on him and see what we can gather.”

So they did. Over the course of the morning, they watched him. They noticed that he was kind of.. giggly? And he also seemed to get flustered for seemingly no reason occasionally. He also seemed extra responsive to touch, just brushing his side gently would make him jump.

They eventually put the puzzle pieces together. Or, well, Odysseus did, being the smart man he is. He pulled Eurylochus off to the side to inform him and make a bit of a plan.

“Captain? What is it?”

“I know what’s up with Polites.”

“You do? What is it?”

“He’s in a lee mood.”

Realization dawned on Eurylochus’ face. “Ooohhh, that makes sense.”

“Mhmm. And I have an idea.”

“Go ahead.”

Later, lunch was served, and after everyone ate, Odysseus walked up to Polites.

“Hey, Polites?”

“Oh, hey Ody! What’s up?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything, but can you see me in my office?”

“Oh, yeah, sure!” Polites mind was racing. If he wasn’t in trouble, what was it? Did they find out?? The very idea flustered him to no end. But he followed his best friend to his office nonetheless.

He was surprised to see Eurylochus there as well.

“Oh? Eurylochus is here?”

“Yes, I am. Hi Polites.”

“Hi! What’s up?”

The other two in the room smirked a bit.

“Oh, nothing, I just noticed your little…. Problem.”

Polites mind raced once more. ‘Wait, actually? They actually know? Oh gods..’

“Oh?”

“Yes, yes. We noticed that you’re in a lee mood, dear friend.”

Eurylochus chimed in. “And what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help you out?”

‘Oh my gods, is this actually happening right now?’ Polites thought to himself, excited and nervous and flustered all at once.

Odysseus and Eurylochus walked up to their friend, and Eurylochus took his arms in one hand and put them above his head. Polites started blushing from fluster and embarrassment, and nearly started giggling from anticipation.

“Let’s get these out of the way, hmm?” Eurylochus’ voice held an unusual teasing lilt, only adding to Polites’ embarrassment.

“Oh gods..”

“What’s wrong? Embarrassed?” Odysseus asked, teasing his friend even further. Then he placed a hand gently on his side, not actually tickling yet, just teasing.

This broke Polites into anticipatory giggles.

“Ohoho nohoho…”

“Aww, laughing already? I haven’t even started yet~”

“Ohohody! Stohohop teheasing!”

“Oh, you want me to stop teasing, hmm? You want me to just start already?”

Polites groaned in embarrassment through his giggles. “Yehehehes!”

“Aww, okay, I guess I’ll have mercy~” Without any further words, Odysseus started to scribble against Polites’ sides, making the other’s giggles grow fuller.

“Ehehehehehe! Ohohody!”

“Whaaaaat? I thought this is what you wanted?”

Polites just groaned again.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know how contradictory the brain can be when it comes to this. You love it, yet your mind is screaming at you to make it stop~”

Polites blushed even further, still giggling like a madman. Eurylochus took his free hand and started to scratch gently at his tummy.

“Ehehehe, Euhuhurylohohochus! Nohohot thehere!”

“Oh? Not here? Not this little tummy right here? But you love this spot~”

His friends wanted to kill him. He was so flustered that he felt like he might die. And their constant teasing was not helping.

“Tickle tickle tickle~ look at how happy you are~”

“Ohohody! Stohohop!”

“Stop what? Stop tickling you? Cause we both know you don’t want that~”

“Stohohop teheheheasing!”

“Aww, why? Is the little lee gettin’ all flustered~?”

“Eheheheh Ohohody!” He didn’t say it aloud, but Polites was having an absolute blast. He’s, he was embarrassed to all Hades, but it was so much fun.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Eurylochus decided to chime in again, still scratching and digging at his friend’s worst spot.

“What’s the matter, Pol? Too ticklish~?”

“Ehehehehehehe nohohot yohou tohohoo! Ahahahaha!” Polites bouncy, happy giggles filled the room, emanating a contagious joy that made the other two parties smile too.

“Aww, you’re just so downright precious~”

“Ehehehehehe nohoho ihim nohohot!”

“Yes you are, don’t try to deny it~ I mean, just look at you! Your smile is adorable~ and don’t even get me started on those sweet giggles.”

“Eehahahaha guhuhuys stohohop!”

“Why should we? You’re clearly enjoying yourself~”

Polites was so red he could be mistaken for a tomato at this point. This was unbearable and amazing and so, so flustering. He couldn’t take it! And yet he loved every second.

Part of him actually did want it to stop, so the pleas weren’t exactly In-genuine, but they weren’t fully genuine either. It’s confusing.

“Stohohop! Guhuhuys! Ehehehehehe!”

“How bout this, you admit you’re adorable and we’ll stop~”

“W-whahahahahat?!”

“You hear him. Tell us that you’re precious and we’ll let you go~ just three simple words.”

“Ehehehehe nohoho wahahahay!”

“Oh, so you’re not ready for us to stop yet? That’s okay, we can keep going until you’re done.”

Polite continued to giggle and squirm and blush so warm it felt like his face was on fire. But it wasn’t to the point where he was desperate. He could hold out a little longer.

“Ehehehehehe guhuhuys plehehehease!”

“You know what you have to do~”

As much fun as he was having, it was quickly getting to a point of desperation, so Polites caved.

“Fihihine! Yohohou wihin! Ihi’m cuhuhute!”

The other two immediately let up, Eurylochus letting go of his arms. “See, now was that so hard~”

“Ugh, youhou guys are mean..” Polites was still blushing furiously, a few small remaining giggles slipping into his speech.

“You know you loved it.”

“Ughhhhhhhh”

Odysseus ruffled his hair. “You’ll be fine.”

Just as they were all about to disperse, Polites decided to say one last thing.

“Uh- thank you.”

“No problem, Friend. Glad you had fun. I know I did.”

Then they separated and went about their usual day, all as if it had never happened. And Polites could confidently say that he felt a lot better. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

———THE END————————————————

[the-mountain-flower]

The Exiled and The Outcast

Chapter Eleven: And The Dinner Here Is Never Second Best~

Falst placed another book in the “X” pile, having finished skimming through it. He picked up the next one, and only took a glance at the cover before immediately placing it on top of the previous one.

“That was quick.” Dainix joked amicably, one of Falst’s books open in front of him.

“I’m a fast reader.” Falst quipped back, a smile on his face. “That one’s a Life spellcarving textbook, it doesn’t have anything fire-related unless you count burn treatment.”

Dainix glanced at the other books on the desk. “You’re really into spellcarving, aren’t you?”

“Eh, not that much,” Falst looked away, the smile falling. “I just… had reason to learn some, that’s all.”

Seeming to take the hint,  Dainix turned back back to his own reading.

Falst picked up the last book in the pile and started skimming through it.

It wasn’t until several minutes later, that the awkward silence was broken.

Falst looked over in confusion, and maybe a bit of concern. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dainix responded, collecting himself. “Just a… mistranslation, I think. Ainoru did not get nasty with the Jandarra the Clever. He killed them.”

“Oh! Oh, that makes so much more sense.”

“Right?! Jandarra’s other stories make it clear they weren't interested in that kind of thing. I don’t think there’s anywhere in the Rauan Desert where they tell this version.” He gestured to the book in his hands.

“How did that even happen?”

“I have no idea, but I get the feeling this isn’t written directly from the source.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah.” Dainix sighed, and shook his head. “I kind of expected something like this, but still.”

“You expected to read that a legendary hero fucked an assassin?”

That got a chuckle out of Dainix. “Not specifically. I just meant that I didn’t expect much of  whatever I find that I know about to be… well, we’re a bit more isolated from everywhere else than we are with each other, mostly thanks to environmental differences. I’m not surprised that what this place does have isn’t that accurate.”

“But, you’re still searching.”

“It’s the only thing I can do, unless I give up. And, I like to think there’s at least a chance of me figuring out, of returning home someday.”

Was he saying that part to Falst, or to himself?

Falst picked up the books from his secret spot to go put them back, mildly disappointed that none of them had given Dainix anything to work with. But he supposed that was the risk of looking so far abroad for something so obscure.

Falst picked up another book on his way back to the desk, but when he came back Dainix wasn’t there, presumably off looking for something else that might tell him something useful.

Falst plopped himself down on the chair he’d claimed, but didn’t open his own book just quite yet. His pensive gaze landed on the candle he’d been using last night. The wick was black and curled, the flame long extinguished. A few drops of wax had cooled down before reaching the bottom, frozen in time halfway down. It had no reason to still be there, but it was, because it just hadn’t been removed.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know why I’m here, either.”

“Are you talking to the candle?”

Falst grimaced. How much of that had Dainix heard?

“Of course not.” Falst responded with faux nonchalance. “Candles burn down. I was talking to the metal thingy that’s holding it.”

“Ah, my mistake.” Dainix’s smile had no business being warmer than any flame that candle could’ve made. “Is it a good conversationalist?”

Falst laughed. “Totally. Just make sure the clock over there doesn’t think you’re talking to it. It’s very self-absorbed.”

Falst’s heard gave an unexpected flutter when he made Dainix laugh again.

This was probably the first time Falst didn’t bother to hide while waiting for Dainix to prepare the meal. There was just no reason for it at this point.

Before trying Dainix’s food, Falst would definitely have been suspicious of the idea of spicy stuff with fruit of all things. He still wasn’t quite sure how Dainix made it work without diminishing the sweetness, but he sure wasn’t going to complain. For being unfamiliar with most of the ingredients, Dainix was very adept at creating something incredible from his supply, and Falst had to wonder what he was capable of in an actual kitchen. It was mesmerizing, how he kept his gaze so steadily on the food he was working with, keeping his hands busy; but his shoulders looked so relaxed, and there wasn’t a moment where his expression wasn’t graced with a gentle smile.

Falst was so lost in watching Dainix’s cooking, that he almost didn’t notice him putting more of the fruit in half of the food- the doclionana he’d called it- than in the other. He didn’t miss that when Dainix handed half of the dinner to Falst, it was the ones with more fruit.

“Here you go. Careful, it’s still hot.”

Falst almost laughed at the warning, coming from someone who was just holding the food he was cooking directly over the fire with his bare hands.

The doclionana was delicious, and once again Dainix had managed to make it so that it was simultaneously spicy and sweet in a way that didn’t cancel each other out or clash. How much different was it from what Dainix made for himself?

Was it possible for Dainix to have noticed Falst’s preference for sweetness?

He couldn’t have. There was no way he was paying that much attention to him. For as much as Falst paid attention to Dainix, he thought there was no reason for it to go the other way around.

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

Plot twist: Dainix's cooking is so good that the furniture comes to life and starts singing about it ;P

I was completely overthinking the food part way more than I had to. just to end up using a made-up word that means nothing irl and hand-waving it as "it's fiction" for the sake of saving me from myself lol (this chapter was already difficult for me)

Remember to drink water, eat food, take your meds (if applicable), and get enough sleep. Love you all, and have a great [insert time here]! <3

[xpau-official]

I do not mean to be rude at all but Cross hates being called Sans canonly. There are many comics of him rejecting the name “Sans”

I wasn’t sure if you knew but yea!!! Of course this is your comic so you can do whatever but I just wanted to let you know 🫶

That’s only in Underverse and after the events of Xtale, and I’m pretty sure he only hates it after the conflict with the X-Event.

I didn’t overlook this detail. I made only XPapyrus call him that for a reason, as he is HIS Sans. Similar to how Underswap Paps calls Blue “Sans”. They’re brothers from the same universe, they don’t call each other by their AU name. Does that make sense?

At the end of the day, he is still a Sans, and he is one of the Sanses at the party. XPAU doesn’t take place during any particular time, so progressive plots like Underverse that change the designs and character development over time don’t have much impact on it. Things like him having his scar are just a design choice, as he was drawn with it a lot before more updates of the series.

I’ve always thought of XPAU as having no timeline. It has events from both the past, present, and future. But there’s really no need to think too hard about it.

I understand that there’s a lot of things going on in Underverse, but please don’t carry over those plots to XPAU. It’s just supposed to be a dumb, lighthearted and fun party. This is a fanon series, and although I love to try sticking to canon, some things just don’t happen. So please don’t get at me for getting a fact or two wrong. I’m trying to keep it away from being too OOC while still making it fun. You guys are literally getting to kiss skeletons in ugly sweaters lmao.

If I’m wrong, then that’s on me, my bad. I’ll take the L, though I don’t really appreciate these kinds of comments. I get that it comes from good intentions, just…eh. It’s not fun, you know? But thanks.

[vacantgodling]

i’m thinking about this post/image

and the thing is though… they don’t mean the same thing.

they convey the same message: “i’m going to x event/place” but the underlying tone about how the speaker FEELS about going to the event isn’t actually the same.

so to make this incredibly simple:

I’M UP FOR IT -> usually implies that the event in question isn’t really something you’re excited for but it’s something that you do have the physical ability to do, and there isn’t like a good reason NOT to do it, so you’ll go.

ie:

a: are you going to suzy’s party tomorrow?

b: eh, yeah, i’m up for it

which is saying that b doesn’t really want to go to suzy’s party (for one reason or another) but they don’t have a good reason not to go so they’ll be there.

I’M DOWN -> implies the exact opposite. you’re excited for whatever it is that you’re doing.

ie:

a: are you going to brent’s party tomorrow?

b: HELL YEAH! i’m so down.

why this phenomena exists is definitely the question. because you would think that up being “high” would be a good thing and “down” would be the opposite.

but i think a good way to think about it is if you contextualize it in the sense of a hill: it’s easier to go downhill than it is to go uphill. i can go down that hill no problem vs. i can go uphill but it’s a bit more work.

i know no one really ASKED for a real explanation bc it’s a joke about how english makes no sense as a language; but every language has its own slangs and idioms that are fascinating once you get into the weeds about them so, here we are in the weeds.