#eugh too much time spent on this posting is just to get it off my hands

[draxsium]

That one scene in one of the books where Matt hides behind Andrew except I remember nothing of it and it might as well be fanon

[aspionagee]

Update for fans of A Patchwork Family: I will be uploading chapter 1 of the sequel on December 1st or earlier, and weekly updates will commence from then.

I'm super excited, and I hope everyone else is, too! I'll be doing a title reveal soon, and I'll possibly post some other snippets in the run up to the release.

Since the sequel will be gaining steam around the Christmas season, I've written a little snippet of Harry, Draco and Severus engaged in Yule Ball preparations in honour of that. Enjoy! :)

Despite Severus’ considerable willpower, he was unable to prevent signs of Christmas festivity from invading his living quarters. Even though they had both returned to living in their respective dormitories during fourth year, Harry and Draco had joined forces to bring the yuletide spirit to their father’s rooms. Tinsel hung from the walls; a Christmas tree twinkled in the corner; stockings were suspended over the fireplace.

But as he stood in the bathroom on Christmas Day, Harry was beginning to wish he could banish any evidence of the dreadful holiday from his life. All it did was remind him of the impending Yule Ball.

For the hundredth time, he wetted his comb and raked it through his hair, only for it to stubbornly spring upright. Harry groaned loudly, and smacked his forehead against the mirror. He looked completely ridiculous! What was Parvati going to think? Even worse, what would Cho think when she saw Harry? She was bound to give him a pitying look, while inwardly congratulating herself on picking the right champion…

Severus knocked on the door and asked, “What on earth is going on in there?”

“My hair!” Harry said, dragging the comb through once more. “It just won’t stay down - bloody hell!”

Severus pushed open the door, clearly struggling to stifle his laughter.

“Stop it!” Harry said despairingly. “It’s not funny!”

“My apologies.” Severus’ lips continued twitching. “I’ve just never seen you act so very much like your brother.”

“Watch it!” Draco shouted from the other room. “If he was a bit more like me, Harry might know how to clean up properly in situations like this!"

“Bugger off!” Harry yelled back, whacking the top of his head with the flat end of the comb, hoping that blunt force might succeed where all else had failed.

Severus examined him inquisitively. “Since when does your hair bother you? I’ve spent the better part of a year imploring you to use a comb while you grumble at me.”

“Draco said I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge,” Harry muttered, patting more water onto his head.

“And I am certain your hair was also a complete bird's nest when you asked Miss Patil to be your… companion. She knew what she was getting herself into.”

“Eugh, companion?” Harry gave Severus a bemused look. “Who even says that?”

Severus sighed, and took the comb from his hand. “Harry, this is a losing battle. It’s time to head upstairs. Miss Patil will surely be waiting for you, and it’s rude to leave a date unattended.”

Harry finally conceded defeat and took a step back to look himself over in the mirror. He felt incredibly uncomfortable in the dark green dress robes he’d been forced to wear for the Yule Ball. They were stiff, and strange, and made Harry feel far too trussed up. Severus’ robes were also much finer than usual, but he was naturally still wearing his customary shade of black.

“I’d take the Horntail over this,” Harry muttered.

Severus rolled his eyes. “It’s a school dance, Harry.”

“Yeah, and I have to lead the stupid dance in front of everybody! It’s so embarrassing!”

“Somehow, I think you’ll live to see another day.” He scanned his eyes over Harry and scowled, reaching out towards his neck. “Why on earth have you knotted your tie like that?”

Harry batted his father’s hands away. “Stop fussing, it’s fine!”

“It’s completely askew -”

He took several steps back and raised his arms in a defensive barrier to avoid Severus’ continued attacks. “It’s supposed to be that way!”

Severus gave him a look of immense disdain. “Teenagers…”

“Harry!” Draco bellowed. “Get a move on, Cecilia is waiting for me!”

Harry pulled a face and began to shuffle towards the door with extreme reluctance. Severus clapped him on the shoulder.

“At least try to look as though you’re enjoying yourself, Harry. You’re going to a ball, not walking to the gallows.”

“Har har,” he grumbled.

[azucar-skull]

Just You And Me

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the TMNT (Post movie)

Prompt: Autistic Donnie!!! Literally anything for autistic Donnie. Sensory overload, deep pressure hugs, food issues, the works.

Word Count: 3785

Posted on AO3 too!

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

A fun day at the beach. This was meant to be a fun day at the beach. A moment for the team to get away from the hustle of New York and enjoy a nice day out on a secluded beach where the turtles didn’t have to worry about any stray humans spotting them.

April, Cass, and Sunita were teaching Casey Jr the ropes of volleyball. Mikey was busy burying Raph in the sand and making him a mermaid tail. And Leo was heading out to catch some waves with an abandoned surfboard he found.

Donnie spent a good chunk of the time sitting in the umbrella shade. But the sand is now kicking onto his towel and just…ugh. Donnie is not a fan of sand. It gets everywhere and is a pain in the ass to get rid of. Besides, he’s supposed to be hanging out with his brothers, he promised them that much. The softshell spent the majority of his time in his lab, working endlessly day in and day out. He tried to say no to a beach day but his brothers weren’t having it. So…sigh…

The water seems nice. It is pretty hot out. And being an aquatic turtle, Donnie has no dispute about it. Plus it’d be funny to go underwater and prank Leo by knocking him off his surfboard. 

Alright, swimming it is, Donnie thought. He got up from his towel and headed down to the shores. He winces at the loud screech of April’s cheering, looking over to see that Casey Jr had punted the volleyball way out of bounds. The teen looks nervous and apologetic as the ball disappears into the aether, never to be seen again. But the girls all swarm him with hugs and cheers. They are being quite loud about it though.

Crunch.

Donnie stumbles back as he notices the strip of seashells lining the shores. He’s stepping on a few and it pokes the bare soles of his feet, eugh. The softshell carefully tries to maneuver around them—

“HEY DEE!!!”, Mikey bellows from down the shore, carrying a plastic red pail full of shells. “Can you grab me that white shell next to you?”

White shell? Sure. White shell, white shell… Donnie glances down and around him.

There are several white shells…

“W-Which one?!”, Donnie hollers back.

“Right next to your foot!”

His foot? Where?? Which foot?!?!?!

“...What????”

Mikey huffs a sigh. “Nevermind, I got it.”, he calls out, bounding his way over to his purple-clad brother. Mikey reaches behind Donnie and picks up the large white spiraling shell he almost stepped on. “I was talking about this one.”

“O-Oh, I see. My bad, I didn’t—”

“No, no, you’re good! I should’ve been more specific. Plus it was behind you.”, Mikey wavers his hand and offers a reassuring smile. “You having fun so far?”

“Uhh…yup!”, it’s not a total lie. But Donnie hasn’t done dick diddly since they got here.

“Cool! Wanna help me decorate Raph’s mermaid tail?”

Help decorate…but Don’s plan was to go in the water with Leo. But. Mikey’s asking for him and Donnie really doesn’t want to let his brothers down so…

“Okay.”, he nods. He could go swimming later anyways. This is okay. Just a little change. Not a big deal.

Don’t make it a big deal. It’s not. It’s literally just a change of plans.

Donnie follows Mikey over to where Raph is patiently waiting with his legs buried under a mound of sand that’s been sculpted into a rather impressive looking mermaid tail. Always leave it to the artist of the group to wow the others with his craftsmanship.

“I’m back! And I brought some help!”, Mikey beams, placing the now heavy bucket of shells down beside the snapper.

“Awesome! I’m going to be the coolest mermaid out there!”, Raph flashes a toothy grin at his brothers.

Donnie sits himself on Raph’s other side and simply follows Mikey’s direction in sorting all the shells into groups based on size, color, and general pattern. Bit by bit, they press the shells into the sand sculpture. While Mikey works the scales, Donnie presses large shell flakes into the fins. But he ends up pressing a bit too hard and the sand begins to topple over. The corner of the fin breaks apart, causing Raph’s foot to stick out.

“Oh crap! My bad, Raph, I didn’t mean to!”, Donnie winces at his mistake before snapping his head at the snapper.

Raph lets out a dramatic gasp, “My mermaid tail!! Oh no, the spell is wearing off! I’m turning back into a human—err…—turtle…”, Raph cries out. “My life is simply ruined! How could you betray me like this? My dearest brother?!” The alligator snapping turtle presses the back of his hand against his forehead as he flops back on his shell.

Oh shit. Shit! Raph’s mad at him. Of course he would be. How could Donnie make such a mistake? Sand is delicate and now Raph is—

Mikey’s laugh breaks through. “Alright, alright. Quit joking around, Raph. I’ll fix it. Just hold still again, would ya?”

Raph was…joking? He was joking. Oh. Right. Of course he was joking. Duh. How could Donnie think Raph was mad? It’s just sand. It’s an easy fix too. Raph was just having fun with him. Why couldn’t Donnie see that??

Mikey hums to himself as he scoops up the sand and pats it back in place again. Donnie wants to try and help some more but now he’s worried that he’ll just fuck it all up again. He clenches and unclenches his hands, hesitant to make a choice.

“Boys! Lunch time!”, April calls out to them.

“What?! Now?! But my mermaid tail!”, Raph whines.

“We can camp next to you then, Raph.”, April rolls her eyes fondly.

“Phew.”, Raph sighs, wiping his brow. He glances up ahead at Leo on his board. “Hey, Donnie, could you go grab Leo and tell him it’s time for lunch?”

“Yes!”, Donnie answers immediately, quickly standing up and a bit too eager to finally be helpful again. “U-uhm I mean, yeah. Sure thing. No probbles.”

Donnie hurries his way down to the shore, now mindful of the shells. He brisks the waterline to get in earshot of the slider before cupping his hands around his mouth.

“LEO! LUNCH!”, he shouts.

Leo can’t seem to hear him. Laughing to himself as he ducks under a wave, grazing the water with his palm. He looks so…joyful. At ease. It’s been a while since Donnie’s seen that. But…a growing turtle needs his food. Donnie huffs in annoyance and begins padding into the water, going deeper and deeper as the cold ocean water soaks the rims of his board shorts.

“Leo!”, Donnie tries again. “LEO!!!”

Still nothing. Guess Donnie finally gets to swim after all. He lurches forward before diving in. The refreshing cold water washes over him as the softshell blinks through the murky ocean and begins to swim after his twin. He sees where the water surface bobs and waves up ahead, where Leo is surfing. He just needs to get close enough for Leo to hear him.

He swims, no worry for his breath which he can hold for a good couple of hours if he wants. The water was hard to see through, unlike a swimming pool, but as long as Donnie focuses on the reflective rays of sunlight above, he could pinpoint where—

Something grabs his leg.

Something slimy, grainy, enrapturing around his leg. Tugging, pulling, yanking. Donnie yelps a muffled scream which takes all the air out with it, trying to kick away but it grabs hold of his other leg. Tugging and tugging and Donnie is kicking and kicking trying to break free but he can’t because the Kraangisyankinghimoutoftheslimyickyviolatingcontrolpanelsofthespaceship—

Suddenly, arms are pulling Donnie out of the water and he desperately gasps for air.

“You’re good, you’re good. I gotcha, Dontron.”, Leo assures as he pulls Donne up close for him to latch on to the surfboard. “What were you even doing down there?”

Donnie holds onto the back end of the board for dear life as he catches his breath. He blinks. Twice. Glancing around and registering that the slimy icky seaweed vines are no longer there. Because of course it was just seaweed. He knew that. He did.

“...What?”, Donnie asks dumbfoundedly, not registering Leo’s question.

“I said what were you doing?”, Leo raises a brow.

Donnie huffs in annoyance once again. “I was coming to get you for lunch time but then some seaweed grabbed me and…and I thought it was…something else.”

“Ugh! I hate that feeling!”, Leo scoffs, reeling his head back. “Every time that happens, I think it’s a stingray and I get all worked up about it.” The slider then scoots forward and pats the back of his surfboard. “Well come on then, let’s head back. I’m starving.”

Donnie graciously obliges, climbing up on the board and balancing himself on the center line. Leo glances behind him really quick but takes note of Donnie’s hands.

“Uhh…you might wanna grab on.”, he suggests.

Oh right, of course. Donne nods, scooting forward and gripping the edges of the surfboard but careful to not get too close to Leo. He’s still reeling from the icky seaweed just now. Leo cocks a brow before slowly turning his head back around.

“Oookay, that works. Let’s go.”

Leo paddles the two towards the shore, aiming for the wave that’s starting to form. Donnie fears for it to be a big one but the wave is simply tugged a bit out of the water, giving the board a gentle push that glides them back to the shore. Thank pizza supreme. He quickly gets off the second the ground is within leg range and pads out of the water with Leo to join up with the others.

The rest of the fam is setting up their picnic spot but the glorious snapper-mermaid as they start distributing sandwiches out from the cooler they brought. Leo and Donnie take a seat beside them all and that’s when Donnie is reminded of…sand.

The sand sticks to him like glue after his impromptu swim and near-drowning experience, getting stuck between his toes and grinding up against his scaly skin and—

“Here ya go, Donnie!”, April grins, passing him his sandwich.

Donnie accepts the offering, now distracted by just how hungry he is. He is most grateful that April and Mikey have packed sandwiches and chip bags for everyone. He opens up the plastic baggie and from the smell alone, he could tell it is a tuna salad sandwich. It sounds delightful. Donnie feels his tongue begin to salivate as he takes a big bite. Ah, finally, something nice. He chews on the bite, reminiscing in the delicious homemade flavors of the sandwich that Mikey made. He starts to feel a bit better too. He must’ve just been hangry this whole time—

CRONCH.

Donnie bit into something hard, hard like a rock. The texture is a startling difference from the softness of the sandwich and it throws the softshell off balance. Not wanting to spit it out in front of everyone, he crunches through the odd texture and gulps the bite down. He peaks into his sandwich to find a culprit but nothing is seen. He’s lost his appetite anyway, putting the rest back into the baggie and opting to thrive off of the potato chips for the time being.

The others are engaged in a lively conversation about how much of a fast learner Casey Jr is at volleyball. Donnie knows he should join in, they all urged him to come along on their beach day so he should be participating. But—

“Not eating your sandwich, Dee?”, Leo asks, though not unkindly.

Suddenly, eyes are on him. Donnie tries to glance up but the stares bore into him like heat lasers and he can’t bring himself to look back. Donnie shrugs through the embarrassment.

“Had a funny texture.”, he mumbles. “I-It tastes great though, Angelo. Really.”

“I believe ya, Don.”, Mikey smiles. At least…Donnie could hear the smile. “Sorry the texture’s off.”

“Well here, you still need something…”, Leo adds. He peels away at his sandwich, separating the bread from everything else and holding the tuna salad parts in his other hand. He hands the bread to his twin. “Here, you can have this. Bread is good, right?”

“O-oh, no. You don’t have to do that.”, Donnie shakes his hand at the offering.

“It’s fine, I prefer the salad straight up anyways.”, Leo assures. “Come on, don’t let this bread go to waste.”

“I…okay.”

Donnie takes the bread slides, munching away at them as the conversation picks up where it left off. The bread has the delicious tuna flavor to it though so at least that’s good. But Donnie still feels bad for being so picky about things. He doesn’t mind tuna. So why is this bothering him now?

“It is settled then!”, Cass’s loud voice breaks through the conversation. “All of us shall compete in a game of volleyball!”

“Aw, yeah! I’m in!”, April nods.

“Sounds great!”, Mikey beams.

“But…my mermaid tail…”, Raph whines.

“FUCK YOUR MERMAID TAIL!”, Cass shouts as she stands up and kicks over the beautifully and carefully crafted mermaid tail that Mikey put his blood, sweat, and tears into. “EVERYONE TO THE NET!”

The rest of the gang bound for the net as Raph mourns the tragic loss of his beloved mermaid tail before catching up with the rest of them. They split into two teams. Leo, Donnie, April, and Sunita on one team. And Raph, Mikey, Casey Jr, and Cass on the other team. Donnie opts to be the back end guy, away from the action where people could crash into each other and start screaming their heads off.

The game begins, April serves (and slays) the ball into the air and the tension begins. A point to Donnie’s team, then a point to the other team. The ball aims at Donnie’s direction a few times, but he stammers to hit back whenever Leo steps in a bit. He’s doing it to be ready to help but knowing Leo’s “No, no, I got this one.” attitude that almost cost them an entire apocalypse, Donnie is rendered hesitant. After a couple serves, Leo catches on and instead sends Donnie a reassuring nod when the ball comes his way again. The softshell does pretty well for the most part. Not too much action but enough that he’s helpful. He likes to be helpful. 

The ball is served again, a tie breaker now, and it hits into the other team’s side. Casey Jr quickly steps into the ball's line of flight, jumping high up in the air and smacking the ball across the net with such force that it slams into Donnie’s team’s side in an easy point hit. But the ball quickly rebounds and bounces up towards Donnie at lightning speed and before Donnie could even register it’s trajectory—

WHAM!

Donnie is knocked off his feet as the ball hits him square in the chin and makes the softshell bite his own tongue. He falls back against the grainy sand. And suddenly everything Donnie’s been trying to keep down all day suddenly snaps. He quickly sits up, tucking his head down as he is suddenly made aware of every little thing around him. The sun is too bright, everyone’s concerned shouting is too loud, his jaw and chin hurt, he’s still hungry because bread and chips is not a lunch meal, there’s fucking sand everywhere and it’s all just…too much.

A high-pitched whine escapes his throat through clenched teeth before Donnie is sucking in a large breath. He clutches his hands against his forehead and rocks himself in place. The sounds he’s making are not of his own volition but at least it has thankfully stopped the shouting. Donnie barely registers what everyone is saying but it doesn’t matter because they’re all focusing on him. Staring and boring their eyes into him so much that it hurts like heat vision rays determined to melt the flesh off his bones and all Donnie wants right now is to get away and maintain some of his fucking dignity.

“Deep breath, Tello. It’s just me right now. Just you and me. You and me.”, Leo’s voice hushes close by. “Deep breath. With me. In…and out. In…and out.”

Donnie tries to follow but his breathing comes in desperate gasps. He manages though. He tries.

“That’s good. You got it. You so got it.”

Donnie begs to fucking differ.

“Come here. You up for a hug?”

Donnie doesn’t even answer yet and there’s arms wrapped around him. They feel icky at first until they tighten, harder and harder. And now Donnie latches onto his twin like a lifeline. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, he can’t. Everything is just too much. But he holds on. It’s all he can do right now.

“There we go. You’re good. I got you.”

Leo shushes him calmly, still holding on as tightly as he dares until Donnie’s panicked rocking slows down. Donnie curls up as much as he can, wrecked with uncontrollable whines and sobs.

“There, there, mellizo. I’m here.”, Leo murmurs. “You wanna go home? Hm?”

A gentle suggestion. And honestly, Donnie would love nothing more than to get the fuck outta here. But…his brothers wanted him to be here. And if he leaves, they’ll want to leave too. He doesn’t want that.

“...I don’t want to ruin the fun.”, he whispers, barely audible, but Leo is holding him so close that he doesn’t have to be loud to be heard.

“You’re not ruining anything, I promise.”, Leo whispers back.

“I’d feel bad if they all want to leave too.”

“Hm…yeah, I get you. We can ask them to stay here, if you want. We could head back together, just you and me.

“...Just you and me…”

“You got it.” Leo shifts, craning his neck up at the others. “We’re gonna head back to base, you guys carry on though!”

Raph hums in concern. “Are ya sure? Raph don’t mind—”

“Yes, we’re sure. Go on. Continue the game without us. Mikey, switch with our team. Avenge our honor.”

“Uhm…sure!”, Mikey replies. “If that’s what Donnie wants.”

A pause, and Donnie realizes they want him to say something. But he could only muster a subtle nod.

“Dee would be honored to have you take his spot.”, Leo assures. “We’ll take my portals back so just give me a call when you’re done and I can teleport you all back.”

“You be sure to give us a call too if you need anything, okay?”, April insists.

“Absolutely!”

Leo shifts to get up but Donnie still grabs onto him tightly. The slider makes no fuss though, hoisting Donnie up with him and guiding the two back to the shade where a blue shimmering light forms. Donnie is guided through the light until everything feels a comforting familiar. The softshell blinks his eyes open to see the dimly lit lair before them. It almost looks completely dark but that’s simply Donnie’s eyes adjusting to being out in the bright sunlight all day. Leo sets his swords aside and gives his twin a patient smile.

“Hey bud, how’s your chin? Does it hurt?”, he asks softly. And thank fuck for it, Donnie doesn’t think he can handle much more stimuli.

His chin doesn’t hurt anymore now though. So Donnie just shakes his head, not wanting to engage in eye contact right now.

“Hm…how about all that sand, huh?”

Now Leo’s speaking his language. Donnie subtly nods which prompts Leo to gently grab his hand and guide him down the hall.

“Let’s head to the bathroom then before we get sand everywhere.”

They head into the bathroom where Leo grabs some towels from the rack. He passes one to Donnie before shaking off his own sandy skin in turn. The sand, now drying off, flakes away with ease which Donnie is most grateful for. He takes extra care to pick away the sand stuck between his toes and fingers before yanking off his bandana when he discovers how much sand got stuck up in it. Once the twins are sand-free, Leo ushers him out of the bathroom.

“Come on, it’s hoodie time.”

They head down to their rooms where Donnie is more than agreeing to dress out into something more comfortable and dry. He puts on his usual shorts and his large oversized purple hoodie before stepping out and sees that Leo has done the same in a blue hoodie.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t want to keep wearing those damp sandy clothes anymore.”, Leo chuckles. “Come on, let’s pop on a movie. You pick. I’ll grab some snacks. Something more filling than bread, I bet.”

Call it twin instinct, but Donnie is glad that Leo is able to read his mind. He heads down to the TV room and shuffles through a few options before opting for his go-to Jupiter Jim comfort movie. Something mindless he can just focus on. As he settles on the couch, Leo comes back with a couple juice boxes and instant noodle cups. Donnie soaks up the minimal warmth of his ramen cup as Leo snuggles up next to him. Together, the two just sit in peaceful silence, enjoying their noodles and the movie. But something still stirs in Donnie’s gut.

“...I’m sorry.”, he murmurs.

“For what?”

“For not being as participating as I should’ve been today. You guys have been insisting I come along and I owe it to you after locking myself up in the lab for a long while. I tried to be more sociable but…it was all just too much.”

“Hey. We wanted you to tag along because you’re our brother and we wanted you to feel included.”, Leo presses. “You didn’t have to come with if you didn’t want to and even if you wanted, you still didn’t have to push yourself beyond your comfort zone. We would never want you to make yourself uncomfortable for us, Dee.”

“...Yeah…you’re right.”

“Well of course I am.”, Leo flaunts. “Who would you be without your genius twin?”

“Excuse you, that’s my line.”, Donnie smirks. “...I still like going to the beach. Just…not now. I guess.”

Leo wraps his arm around his brother. “Then we’ll head out again some other time. Just you and me.”

“Yeah…

“Just you and me.”

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

This was the longest attack I've made so far for write fight and tbh I am kinda bummed that it's a friendly fire one too so the points ain't that much BUT THE RANDOM NUMBER GENERATOR HAS SPOKEN SO I DO NOT QUESTION THE RANDOM NUMBER GENERATOR GODS!!!

Hope you like it, Rem! Consider it a fuck you and a thank you for writing firefight. (I still gotta catch up. Why does Donnie want to eat bananas--)

[jacks347]

I MISSED THE NEW BVZ PREMIERE (THANKS JOB)

So now y'all get my live reaction! (I've never done one of these before, this is gonna be fun)

SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED IT

Intro is great as always, I love this song so much

Here we go~

WHO?? WHAT??

OFF TO A STRONG START

"Lack of cooperation" My guy it's Albus, that's literally his entire thing

On your family?? YOU LEAVE FAITH OUT OF THIS (and Kerano and Devlin)

OH??

HI DEVLIN WHAT

That design is so good, Glowbat you wonder

Plot twist #1, I expect many more

We're not even 5 minutes in, this post is going to be a fucking Bible-

Does Devlin have freckles?? Did he always have freckles?? Beautiful

Oh Devlin got sassy during the break I like :P

Of course he calls for his brother, the strongest person he knows how sweet <3

Miracle of faith, in more ways than one

Oo, that sounds painful

~DINNER BREAK~

ALBUS! LANGUAGE!

Ooo scary protective Albus

"My brothers. My battalion." Oh-

Aaaaand there's the Albus we know and love XD

"Fuck you and your hat!" Pfft you leave Devlin's fedora alone XD

Oh, back to our regularly scheduled program

Waiter I'm afraid you got some capitalism in my cowboy fantasy

GIMME CROSSBOW I WANT A CROSSBOW

I don't even think Albus knows where Albus went, he just heard his brother calling and left

Ewwwww TMI Albus

LIGHTSABER?? WHO LET ALBUS PICK UP A LIGHTSABER

Oo who's at the door? And why do I not trust it-

Oh it's just Devlin-

Uh oh, Albus has to explain his family~

Hi Mahatma! I still don't entirely trust you!

Why am I playing organizing Tetris-

...oops

"Can I ask you something?" I mean you just did so-

"Do you ever feel...powerless?" Well ain't this a pleasant conversation

"Like you can't save the people you care about" WELL AIN'T THIS A PLEASANT CONVERSATION

Look at Hipswitch showing off his detective skills! I'm so proud

Oh? What's on that ship??

Oh god not more new characters-

The mafia's back that's not good-

Why is the mafia fighting the Triad I'M SCARED

THE MAFIA SHOT DOWN THE PALADIN SHIPS?? WHY?? I DON'T LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING

Another point to the man that can't even fuckin read that he's just a tad bit stupid :P

Boys, boys! You're both pretty stop yelling XD

"Interesting" is certainly a word for it Doc, wait until you hear about the woman they're both in love with-

"Caused any distress" ...do you hear yourself Devlin?

...awkward silence...

Paladins of Cindergorn eh? Looks like we are gonna learn about Faith today

Devlin being a smartypants, Hipswitch giving the most sass I've ever heard in a single sentence, this is great

Ewww I hated everything about that metaphor

"Something doesn't feel quite right" Of course it doesn't because nothing here is ever simple

WHY IS DEVLIN CHANGING COLORS??

"Is there anything else you can actually swallow?" ...Doc that is the wrong person to ask

"Oh...eugh" 10/10 Love that reaction XD

Poor Devlin, he spent enough time single-handedly running a ship-

When did Albus attempt to learn to cook?? And why??

"Don't worry about me" Faith's healer senses are tingling

"I saw you get goosebumps, did I scare you?" Honey considering how this story is going I don't think it was fear-

HIPSWITCH THIS IS NOT THE POSITION YOU WANT TO BE IN WHEN DEVLIN GETS BACK

Oh the secondhand embarrassment is crawling up my spine and it hasn't even happened yet

Please God get off of him before I explode-

And we're safe thank god

"You don't trust him at all, do you?" Would you if you were in my position?

This is really just the backstory episode isn't it

Albus, the hired gun where his last job got him killed, wasn't too keen on being a bounty hunter until he saw the paycheck. Okay that stings a little-

"I'm sure they're fine" *Cut to them being very not fine*

Devlin proudly proclaiming he can't read, 10/10 tension diffused

"We won't tell a soul, right partner?" Sir I couldn't even if I wanted to my mouth is literally just for decoration at this point (don't take that out of context-)

Destroy a sacred scripture surrounded by Paladins of Cindergorn, a certain priestess just felt her eye twitch

Yes Doc, show off that psychology degree you worked so hard for (hi I'm a psych student so it's also the degree *I'm* working so hard for)

"Is Devlin a father?" He's not just a stepdad, he's a dad who stepped up 💪 (that was so bad forgive me-)

Devlin...what did you do...

Okay I do not trust any of what just happened, what are you after Devlin?

Oh god the mafia's back

DOGS?? OH GOD PLEASE NO

NOT DOC!! ALBUS SOUNDS SO WORRIED

Show em what you're made of Albus

Don't talk to Albus like he doesn't know what being trained from birth to be someone's dog is like-

Devlin's going through it again, someone save the poor boy from his flashbacks

Y'know, Redacted being the one getting killed instead of doing the killing is rather cathartic in a bittersweet kind of way

Time to rewrite history! Again!

"What exactly can he do?" Great question, I'll tell you when I find out

Oh great, GB's back on his villain shit what piece of lore are we getting today

I don't trust that music, what's about to happen and is it a sand worm like this is Star Wars (we already had a lightsaber it wouldn't shock me)

I KNEW IT!! ASK ME HOW I KNEW GO ON ASK

WHO IS THE MAN IN THE MASK I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

"I have someone for this kind of thing" Yes go visit your wife and her special bandage technique :D

"Is it a hooker?" "No! It's not a hooker!" He sounded so offended for her, I love that

:O Let someone else fix you up?? And betray wife?? Wait no Wife is Gienne (hello GB Twitch chat :P)

Where's Faith I saw the cast list where is she

WHAT DO YOU WANT YOU BIRD NOSE FREAK

:D KERANO BABY

Oh that art is adorable

SHE CALLS HIM DAD MY HEART IS GONNA EXPLODE

Oop there's Faith-

And Kerano calls her Mom ughhhhh I'm not gonna make it y'all

"It's been x amount of time" Kerano I love you

"Death is too good for him" Yikes

"That's a relief!" "It is?" Pfft-

Faith went from furious to worried in 2 seconds hearing about Albus, that's our girl

"You didn't tell him about your father's death" HEH?? HONEY YOU DIDN'T TELL *ME* ABOUT HIS FATHER'S DEATH WTF I THOUGHT WE WERE IN THIS TOGETHER FAITH

Oh poor Devlin :(

"I miss him, Faith" Is that the first time we've ever heard Devlin call her by her name? Back in BW he always just called her Sister

Awww hug him for me Faith

Oh yeah, Faith is the only who can actually read-

"Something called Operation Sub Delta" ...what

Oh my god don't read it Faith please god don't read it

And she's reading it-

"You just want an excuse to see him again" Oh look, he's reading the thoughts of the fandom (YES WE WANT ALBUS TO SEE HIS WIFE AGAIN SO SUE US)

"I've actually met someone" EXCUSE ME?? DEVLIN YOU HOE WHO IS IT??

"Look at my choice in men" Ah so she realizes it XD

Come on Faith, connect the dots, I know you're smart enough

And she's done it

Who is Agent and what the hell is happening

Uh oh-

They have the files of the subjects that Devlin doesn't

Which means they can use Albus like their own weapon by probing his training like Kravatas did

Oh I really don't like where this is going

WHAT??

THAT'S THE END??

YOU CAN'T JUST END IT ON THAT WHAT THE HELL

Oh my god this series really loves throwing me for loops doesn't it

OKAY ENDING THOUGHTS

Absolute 100000/10 episode GB you madlad you've done it again

Was completely worth the wait, love seeing the whole cast together again including our new players!

The art is flawless, I expected nothing less of Glowbat

Keep doing what you do you mad genius GB, I'll be holding my breath for the next one (try not to kill me I can't do another 4 months-)

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Made it through chapters 13-18 today and I wanted to start this one off by mentioning something that I noticed a while ago but neglected to mention here so far, which is that Feyre uses Ihr/Euch when referring to Tamlin and I think Lucien and even Alis as well (Ihr/Euch is the Formal You thats used to refer to nobility (as opposed to the more common Sie/Ihnen which is the Formal You used in others contexts)), while Tamlin and Lucien refer to Feyre by du (Informal You) and Alis refers to her by Ihr/Eugh as well. I wanna try and keep track of when Feyre starts to use the Informal You for Tamlin because its a small detail but it always signals a pretty big shift in the relationship in german-language media and I think its really neat

Anyway, now onto the other stuff; i remember that I complained about the pacing feeling very slow in my first post and I would like to say that thats gotten a lot better, at least on the level of individual scenes. When it comes to the story as a whole though, I feel like its moving unnaturally quickly. Like, its a little hard to describe but Feyres character development and her warming up to the fae feels like its happening in chunks rather than a smooth, natural progression. The fact that SJM's writing is incredibly unsubtle isnt helpful either, it just makes the unnatural-ness of it all stick out that much more. I wouldve definitely needed atleast one realization of "Oh, these guys arent that different from me and the people I knew in my life" from Feyre before she started warming up to them and feeling sorry for Andras' death because as it stands, her feeling guilty felt very sudden

While the fae are still dissappointing overall and I despise the horrible What-if-America-colonized-the-British-Isles ass layout and the exposition was clunkier than ever before, I did like all the non-high fae fea creatures, the Suriel and the Bogge in particular, its truly incredible how interesting SJM's writing can be when shes not too focused on the most generically handsome basically-human-except-they-fuckin-growl-and-roar men

Speaking of those men, I continue to find Tamlin pretty charming although hes definitely definitely not my type, my type are pathetic submissive easily flustered guys, but given that this is a book by Sarah J Maas a guy who actually has hobbies outside of fighting and fucking might be all I can hope for. Despite that, I like Luien a lot more and I find his relationship with Feyre far more compelling. Like, him giving Feyre that dagger telling her not to stab him in the back with it was absolutely lovely, not mention his incredibly interesting family drama. Like ughhhhhhh whyd SJM decide she wanted to subvert expectations by having Feyre end up with Rhysand when Lucien is literally right there. Although granted, I think a large part of the reason I feel that way is because Feyre and Tamlin havent really interacted too much in almost 200 hundred pages while Feyre and Lucien have spent a decent amount of time alone already and its a little baffling because its not like Feylin have absolutely no time together, its just that we dont really see it. Like, we dont see their almost nightly dinners and its really frustrating because Im not even someone who really enjoys this kind of bland cishet "dark romance" thats popular on booktok, but like, whats the point of a beauty and the beast retelling where you dont see the beauty and beast slowly get to know each other. Its even more frustrating when I remember that like a quarter or maybe even a third of this book is gonna be all the Under The Mountain bullshit, like you know you can just tell a smaller scale romance story in a fantasy setting without a big war right

[faerie-hoard]

Actually blogging on Tumblr.com

I was trying to think about what I wanted to do for my first post, you know? I could have jumped straight into screaming at the void, post about books or rp or fanfic, and just pretended this blog was here the whole time. Or I could do an introduction post. Hello, I'm Fae, This is what I decided to do instead of ranting to my friends about things, I'm 26 going on 27 this year, etc., etc.

I hate introductions, though; I think they can be put into other things very easily, and they don't need to be their own post to reference constantly. If I wanted to do that, There's a bio right there, right?

Instead, I want to talk about the process of trying to find a good blogging spot, because it's really, Horribly corporate out there.

The thought of making this blog hit me at 2am working the night shift. I was loading up orders and boom, hey, let's start a blog! to ramble about things. Let's do book reviews. Let's review fanfiction. Let's talk about the online roleplay scene. Now, you know and I know that 2am is a terrible time to start a new project-- It's perfect for thinking it up, but the execution will always be a little messy. I'm a little messy on a good day, you know? so to avoid jumping in I went looking for resources.

You know, the sort of things that follow "Let's start a blog", which are "where do I put it?" and "how do I want it to look?" and "Is this going to cost me money at all". So I put on a youtube video, something to listen to while I worked. Something to, frankly, stop my impulses from popping my phone out on the sales floor like a cretin and trying to make a blogger account.

Have you ever looked up something innocuous, just to find yourself on The Grind side of the internet? I'm a squishy person, and I like relaxing, so I don't touch it very often. When I do run into it, it's a little bit like watching a parallel universe pop into existence fully formed. like Athena from Zeus' forehead. Maybe it was the 2am speaking, but at no point had the follow-up question "Can I make money off of this" popped into my head. In fact, when you're talking about fanfiction specifically it's dodgy to have that thought at all.

I think maybe I just got too comfy with the algorithm, honestly? Because youtube handed me so many videos, and none of them were remotely what I wanted. Just tons of advice from middle-aged men talking about blogging making you big money in almost no time at all! and...eugh?? Eugh. Nothing like fumbling for your phone in the back room because this is a 30-minute pitch for an online seminar and not actually a helpful video.

Like I said, I don't run into this side of the internet very often; I'm a proud tumblrite trash fire just like the rest of you, and I want ads on my things about as much as I want to look at ads on things I look up. Anyway, I chalked this up to the popular search being geared toward these grind-for-money, beat-capitalism-by-giving-me-money types. It sure wasn't though!

I mean, it was, but only because every single cursed thing I went to listen to was about how to make money on your blog and what things got you the most money and SEO and exclusive domains and you get the idea. Use WordPress! .org and not .com, though, so you can mess around with things and own everything yourself. Pay for hosting and a domain name. Use blogger! but only because it monetizes ads with google. Use Wix! the free version still lets you earn some money. I'm already at work! I don't need to be sold shit on the off chance my blog gets popular. Maybe one day I'll want WordPress and want a custom domain and all that, but I'm fine being a .website sort of blog.

I spent the rest of the night listening to WTNV and podfic, just to wash the taste out of my mouth, and when I woke up the next day sometime in the late afternoon I went to the source-- Reddit. And wouldn't you know it, I was getting answers, albeit still stuck in "Idk man don't you want to make money?" mode. Still, It was a relief seeing other people like me, who just had a lot to say and like to talk about it. Fellow void-screamers, if you will, and They were just as disgruntled!

This was where someone suggested Blogger as a useful tool for a free and new blog. It's in the name, right? I thought "Is it still ok to use though? will I be gently mocked for being a .blogger.com sort of blog?" (I hadn't actually gotten a lot of sleep, this is the only explanation I have for this thought). Then, on the winds of change itself, "I might as well just use tumblr if I'd go on blogger."

And... yea? Yeah, why hadn't I thought of that in the first place! It's free! it's anticapitalist! it's full of people like me that I like, and I know how to use it already! Anyway, that's how I ended up realizing I'd never considered Tumblr as a blogging site. It's probably outdated to use it like one now, but that never stopped tumblr before.

So that was my journey, with a side of salt tossed over at grindtube for making me sift through some absolute bullshit. I'm here, now, and I hope I get some enjoyment out of posting my thoughts here. At the very least I won't be ranting incoherently at my friends anymore.

probably.

[writingsoftheghost]

Caught up in a bet

Tw: cursing, sexual innuendos and references (Remus)

“Nobody else does it right,” Remus says softly, “It doesn’t hurt when you do it, you have a gift.”

Patton stops bandaging Remus’s hand, his face is tinted red, “Thank you, Remus. I’m happy to help.”

Remus nods as Patton finishes up, he waves to Patton before ducking out of the bathroom to go wreak havoc somewhere else. He’ll probably be coming to Patton for more bandages before dinner time.

Patton heads back into the living room, Janus is sitting on the couch reading a novel. He looks up when he sees Patton.

“Hello, Patton. You’re looking very nice today.” He says nonchalantly.

Patton feels heat flood his cheeks once more, he’d worn a nicer shirt than usual and had a new pair of khakis,“Th-thank you, Janus.”

The deceitful side only hums in response before returning his attention back to his book.

Several more instances like that would occur throughout the day. Remus and Janus discuss it after everyone else has gone to bed.

“Patton is so easily flustered! You show him the slightest hint of kindness and he blushes! He makes it too easy!” Remus cackles. “I bet I could cook an egg on his face with a few words!”

“Yes, he is rather susceptible to compliments, especially when delivered by me.” Janus smiles.

“What do you mean by that?” Remus asks in a challenging tone.

“Well, it’s obvious I’m the more suave of us. And you’re, well...not as adept at making others feel good.”

“Oh I think I’m rather good at making people feel good,” Remus says suggestively.

“Eugh. That’s exactly what I’m talking about, you cretin. That’s why I make him blush so much and you only see it in passing.”

“Is that a challenge?” Remus asks, a dangerous fire already lighting up behind his eyes.

“Care to make a bet?” The snake smirks mischievously.

“Oh hoho, I very much do.” Remus grins devilishly.

“I bet I can make Patton blush more in a week than you can,” Janus says dryly.

“Whats the stakes?” Remus asks.

“Hm...I’ll make your favorite cake. Now what will you do when I win?”

“What do you want?”

“Take a bath, please,” Janus says without hesitation.

“Why do you always bet that?!” Remus whines.

“Because you never do it,” Janus says with an eye roll.

“Fair enough,” Remus sighs.

And so the bet began.

It started small enough, Remus telling Patton his hair looked good that day, Janus telling him his smile was especially radiant that day, and Patton blushing at all of it.

Then things escalated, Remus telling Patton his eyes were stunning, Janus telling him his dimples were cute. By Wednesday things had gotten way out of hand. Patton couldn’t go more than an hour without Remus telling him that he looked especially fuckable that day or Janus saying that his nose scrunched in the cutest way when he laughed.

Quickly though, both had decided to kick it up a notch, Janus began kissing Patton’s hand in greeting, Remus stroked his hair while they watched tv. The physical touch left Patton absolutely exhilarated.

Patton didn’t know what he’d done to bring this all on but he was loving it, no one had ever complimented him like that before! And Patton hadn’t realized how much he craved someone saying positive things about him. And the hugs! The hand holding! It was all so awesome. But no matter how often it occurred, Patton couldn’t help but blush as red as a tomato each time.

By the next Sunday his face was almost always tinted a shade of red, it was hard to catch him without a smile on his face. Everything has started to feel a lot better.

Then the next day, something changed. He’d run into Remus who smelled clean, which was odd. But Remus only said hello and goodbye to him. No compliments. Patton wasn’t worried, he knew he couldn’t expect Remus to call him pretty every time he saw him.

But then when he sat down on the couch next to Janus, there were no kind words. Only a brief glance of acknowledgement. Patton frowned, but quickly blew it off. He couldn’t always be the center of attention, and he shouldn’t always expect to be.

But as the day goes on, and he doesn’t get any compliments from Janus or Remus, Patton starts to worry that maybe he did something wrong. Did he upset them? Were they angry with him? What had he done?

He didn’t say anything to them that day, they spoke to him at dinner like they always have. They didn’t seem to be upset with him. But there were no kind hands on his back telling him his smile was beautiful or that his laugh was music. No one was brushing their hands through his hair while they watched tv.

The next day was the same, neither of them spoke to him like they were angry, but they didn’t compliment his hair that he’d spent a lot more time on today. He received no hugs when he went to bed. And Patton felt horrible. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done. He let it go on like this for two more days, but on Thursday night it all became too much.

Remus found him crying in the kitchen while he made brownies. He quickly walks over and takes the pan from his hands and places it on the counter.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, Daddy? What’s got your sweater in a bunch?” He takes Patton’s hands and sets him down at the kitchen table.

“N-no-thing, I’m so-o-o-rry,” he chokes out.

Remus shakes his head, “Don’t do that, Patty. Come on, tell me what happened? Do you need me to kill someone?”

Patton shakes his head.

“Then what is it?” Remus asks him, his voice is far too gentle to belong to Remus.

Patton finally breaks, “Wh-hat d-did I d-do wrong?”

Remus frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t yo-you and J-Janus talk so nicely to me anymore?”

Remus cocks his head to the side, “What do you mean? We don—”He pauses as it dawns on him, “Oh. Oh, Patton, I’m so sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Patton looks at him, tears still streaming down his cheeks, “But w-why else w-would—”

“Oh, god, Pat. I’m gonna go get Double D and we’re gonna have a nice talk, okay? Please don’t cry anymore. I’m so sorry.” He gently brushes his fingers across Patton’s cheek. Patton grabs his hand before he can pull away.

“P-please. Don’t leave.” He looks at Remus with pleading eyes and Remus can’t bear the thought of him being left down here alone again.

“Okay, how about you come with me? Is that okay?” He tugs Patton into his arms and quickly scoops him up, Patton wraps his arms around him like a koala. He buries his face in Remus’s shoulder. Remus can feel tears seeping into his shirt and he feels guilt seep into his body with ever one of them.

He knocks on the yellow door, “J, get out here. We have a situation.”

Patton grabs his hand before he can knock any louder, “What if he’s asleep. I don’t wanna upset him.”

Remus shakes his head, “He’s not asleep, and we upset you.”

Patton shakes his head insistently, “I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“He won’t be, cookie. Just relax.” Remus runs his hand up and down Patton’s back a few times before he knocks again.

“What have you done now, Rem—” he stops as soon as he sees Patton in Remus’s arms.

“What happened? Is Patton alright?” He quickly tries to examine Patton, but the fatherly trait keeps hiding his face in Remus’s shirt.

“We did a bad thing, Jan. A really bad thing. You gotta come downstairs.” Remus says quietly.

Janus only nods and let’s Remus lead him downstairs and to the couch. Remus gently strokes Patton’s hair and whispers softly to him. “You wanna tell him, Pat? Or do I need to?”

Patton only shakes his head and ducks back into Remus’s shoulder.

“Alright, then I’m gonna tell him.” He turns to Janus, “Our bet, Jan. We didn’t realize what would happen to Patton after it ended. He thinks he did something wrong because we stopped being sweet to him.”

Janus’s eyes widen with realization. “I...I should have realized this would happen. I’m so sorry for involving you in our petty bet. We shouldn’t have done that to you, Patton.” He places his hand on Patton’s back.

Patton finally shows him his face, tear tracks evident all the way down his cheeks. “So you were only being nice because of a bet? You didn’t mean any of it?” His voice shakes.

Janus is quick to rectify it, “No! No, of course not. I didn’t mean any of it.” He lies. “Remus and I care for you deeply, and would like to continue to show you if you’re comfortable with that.”

Patton nods, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Janus shakes his head, “I want to, Pat. I’m so sorry we stopped. We shouldn’t have ever stopped showing you we cared and we definitely shouldn’t have started sooner.”

Patton giggles and Remus’s chest loosens, hes gonna be okay. They didn’t break the little guy, he’s laughing.

“How about you come stay in my room tonight?” Janus says as he brushes Patton’s hair away from his eyes.

Patton nods and starts to get up, he freezes and then runs back to the kitchen.

“Patty? You okay?” Remus asks as he follows him.

“My brownies!” Patton exclaims. “I gotta finish them!”

“Oh,” Janus chuckles from behind Remus, “You want some help?”

Patton smiles and nods, “That would be great!”

So the trio spend the next hour making brownies and cleaning up the kitchen. It’s almost one in the morning when Remus carries a sleeping Patton to bed.

I got this prompt from this post made by @kawaiikat54 and I really hope they like it.

[betweentheracks]

Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

[phis-corner]

wild

Another prompt for @jasonette-july-2k20​, also cross-posted on Ao3 under the name m3owww. The other prompt fills are also on there.

“We’re going to the zoo!” Dick announces. “Everybody is mandated to come. Otherwise, Oracle’s locking you out of all your devices for a month. And by everybody, I mean everyone who dons a costume at night to beat people up.”

Marinette groans. This is not going to go well.

Scene I: The Giraffes

“Hey, it’s the giraffes!” Steph exclaims. “Woah, those are really tall.”

“We would have to stack three Damians to reach the height of one female giraffe.” Tim remarks, clutching a large thermos of coffee.

Damian snarls. “Do you wish to die, Drake?” Bruce snatches Damian’s backpack from him before he can pull out his knives.

Jason pokes Marinette in the side. ��Male giraffes are eleven feet. If you stood on my shoulders, we’d be around that height.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Call me short, Jay. But I could easily punch you in the groin if I wanted.” Marinette grumbles. She pointedly ignores the commotion next to her. 

Damian has tackled Tim, Dick is trying to pull him off, Steph is cheering him on, and Cass is happily watching the giraffes. Bruce is rummaging through Damian’s backpack and grimacing at the amount of weapons the child packed.

Go figure.

Scene II: Elephants

“Well, this kind of stinks.” Jason remarks, as the baby elephant in front of them decides to take a poo. They all collectively gag as the smell wafts their way.

“Let’s just move on.” Bruce decides, and the group starts walking, except for Damian.

“Five more minutes, Father.” The boy commands. “It is too adorable to leave.”

Marinette has never been more glad that she always brings face masks around. She hands one to Jason and puts the other on. At least this muffles most of the scent.

Bruce sighs. “Damian-”

“Five minutes, Father.” He hisses dangerously.

“Guess we’re stuck here.” Tim says sadly. “It’s going to be a long five minutes.”

Scene III: Reptile House

“Mari! Look here! It’s a Burmese Python!” Jason calls, pointing to a massive snake coiled in one of the terrariums.

Marinette shudders. “Eugh, these creep me out. Guess I use the mouse miraculous too much. I just hope we can move on soon.”

“This snake is beautiful.” Damian declares, gesturing at a King Cobra. “I wish to keep it as a pet.”

“Little D, this is a zoo!” Dick chastises. “Not an animal shelter with pets up for adoption!”

“Are you crazy? That’s the longest venomous snake in the world!” Tim shrieks.

Damian sniffs. “Precisely, Drake. I wish to train it to attack you, just as I have with all my other pets.”

“You- what?” Tim splutters. “That’s why none of the animals like me? I’m changing your Wifi password.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Steph walks up to Marinette and Jason, holding out a tub of popcorn. “Want some?”

“Thanks.” Marinette reaches for the popcorn, then freezes. “Wait. Where’d you get this?”

The blonde grins. “I have Cass on my side. Anything is possible.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason frowns. “Where is she?”

Scene IV: Butterfly House

Dick shrieks as another butterfly flaps past his head. “I swear, these things are trying to kill me!”

“Tt, don’t be stupid, Grayson. They are harmless creatures.” Damian scoffs.

Marinette hums thoughtfully. “I mean, most butterflies are, but if they’re actually the demonic purple butterflies sent by a crazy fashion designer with a magical brooch to prey on negative emotions and turn people into colorful monsters with ridiculous powers that I spent three years fighting, then we’re in trouble.”

Jason blinks. “Sometimes, I forget how crazy your life was.”

“Yeah, I wish I could do that.” Marinette sighs. “Gabriel was a dick.”

Tim raises his camera and snaps a picture of Steph giggling as a butterfly makes itself at home in her hair.

Bruce almost-smiles. “At least no one’s trying to kill each other here. Everyone is- wait.” He scans the house, frowning.

“Guys, have any of you seen Cass?”

Scene V: Penguins

As it turns out, Cass went off to buy a slushy. She joins them at the penguin exhibit and watches gleefully as Bruce tries to interrogate the poor birds. Tim is filming the entire thing on his camera.

“Have you ever had any association with the Gotham villain known as Penguin in the past?”

“Squawk.”

“What, exactly, is your connection to the criminal otherwise known as Oswald Cobblepot?”

“Squawk?”

“Answer my question!” Bruce growls at the birds.

Jason’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and Marinette stifles a giggle.

“Father, these are-”

“Silence, Damian! I am interrogating the moles that Penguin planted at the zoo.”

One especially brave penguin waddles right up to Bruce, leaving only a few inches of space in between their faces.

They engage in a silent staring contest.

Then…

“SQUAWK!” The penguin screeches in Bruce’s face. Being the Batman, he doesn’t startle (very much) and simply growls as the penguin dives into the water, chirping happily.

“Get back here! I wasn’t done yet!”

Scene VI: Tigers

The orange and black-striped feline elegantly prowls towards the group, heading straight for Cass, who beams and reaches her hand out to press up against the glass. The tiger nuzzles into the wall between them, and Cass frowns.

Captive. She signs. Free?

“This tiger was born in captivity.” Bruce says. “She wouldn’t survive in the wild. And for future reference, none of you are allowed to free the zoo animals.”

Dick sighs. “Aw, come on B, Dami and I had our heist already halfway planned!”

“This tiger is beautiful.” Damian states. “She is graceful in a way that humans cannot master.”

“What about Cass?” Jason points out. “She’s just as graceful as the tiger.”

Cass smiles, pleased. Thank you, little brother.

“Marinette and Dick are really graceful when they’re in the air too!” Steph adds.

Marinette winces. “Key word being air. I’ve already tripped over my own feet six times, and another three times on Jason.”

Right on cue, as she moves to read another plaque, she trips over Jason’s foot and flails. He catches her in a dip like the good boyfriend he is and promptly kisses her- passionately.

Damian makes a disgusted noise, Dick sighs, Tim snaps a picture, and Cass smacks them both on the backs of their heads.

Children. She signs, and they both smile sheepishly. Two toddlers are staring, openmouthed, and Marinette counts five parents covering their children’s eyes.

“Oops.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two can contribute to Alfred’s PDA jar when we get back.” 

“Aww, Bruce!” Jason complains.

“He has strict rules and you didn’t follow them.” Steph chirps. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Timbo, help me out here?”

Tim looks up from where he’s fiddling with his camera. “Uh, no thank you? You two have scarred multiple children for life. It’s only five dollars. You’ll survive.”

“No! Betrayed! By my own family!” Jason wails, and Marinette huffs.

“Mon oiseau, you are the son of a billionaire. Not to mention, all the money you make from your… extracurriculars. You can pay the five dollar fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!”

At the end of the day, all of them are tired and sweaty. They agree that maybe the zoo isn’t the greatest place for a family outing, except for Damian, who wants to return to kidnap (Animalnap? Zoonap?) the animals and set them free.

As they get out of the minivan one by one, Marinette, who is right behind Damian, spots something in his shirt move.

“Damian, what’s in your shirt?”

The boy snarls. “Nothing!”

“Damian…” Bruce sighs, and Damian reluctantly pulls out a green grass snake.

“It is non-venomous. Nobody will miss it.” He says defensively, and there is a chorus of groans.

“It’s a snake.” Tim points out. “That you stole. From the zoo.”

Damian sniffs. “I prefer the term liberated.”

Jason groans, and rests his chin on the top of Marinette’s head. She staggers underneath the extra weight. “I hate this fucking family.”

Marinette reaches up to poke him in the chest. “You know you love us. Why else would you wear a bat on your chest?”

“To piss Bruce off.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

[loveactionsspeaklouder]

one year - kylian mbappé and julian draxler fanfic

4|Gossip

"You are hilarious, have you ever thought of a career in comedy?" I glared at Julian. He laughed cheekily as he took a seat next to me. If any other player follow, I swear to godddddd. Not in the mood. "Unfortunately, you're not my type. Apparently, I prefer French strikers. Now, what do you want?"

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I am hurt by your comment," Julian sniggered. "So how are you on this fine morning? I am great!"

This boy keeps talking, he's going to be out of action for at least six weeks with a broken nose. "Splendid, thanks for asking. Now if you'll excuse me, some of us have a real job to attend," I grinned as I walked away, leaving a dumbfounded Julian and a giggling Freddie behind. 1-0 Molly.

....

After I finished work, I knew I needed to let off some steam. Luckily, I didn't get asked many questions about the article, but when I did, I made sure to mention about my very loving and very angry boyfriend at home. I was just happy that I was now sat with a glass of wine, digesting my food. It didn't take long to convince Ruby to join me, but I was glad she agreed.

"Oh Rubes, I needed this," I chuckled to myself. I had filled her in on everything, she found the situation hilarious. "I have only been in Paris for nearly forty-eight hours and here I am sat with a glass of wine and drama. How can I cope for one year?"

"That's what happens when you work with footballers' sweetie," Ruby smirked. She really was enjoying this. A little bit too much if you ask me. "If you had to pick, who's your favourite? Julian or Kylian."

"Neither," I snorted. I playfully glared at her, what type of question was that? Did she forget I had a, BOYFRIEND!! "I mean, I wouldn't call them my favourite, but if I had to pick one, one hundred per-cent it would be Julian. Kylian irritates me, he has the worst mood swings and the only time I spoke to him, he spent all dinner talking about fucking this girl. Disgusting."

Ruby spent the next ten minutes laughing, full blown belly laughing. I'm sure I heard her snort at one point. I was so grateful I had a friend like her in Paris, she was incredibly easy to talk to with all these boy dramas.

....

For the second night in a row, I was happy to see my bed. I think me and Ruby went a bit extreme with the wine but boy did I enjoy it. I quickly uploaded a photo to my Instagram before I went to change into something a bit more comfortable, Paris was not the place for my cosy clothes to be seen in public.

After making myself a coffee, I went and sat on my sofa, scrolling through Netflix until I found something to watch. Ahhh, The Notebook, that wins. I went to check my phone and noticed all the Instagram notifications.

Oh.

My.

God.

k.mbappe has followed you

draxleroffical has followed you

neymarjr has followed you

All I saw now was random accounts commenting on my photo and typical they were all mentioning the players. I'm sure they were very close to figuring out it was me in that article, not what I needed. Eugh. My attention was soon turned to an unknown number calling me.

M: Hello...?

J: Oh hey pretty lady, how are you?

M: Julian. How do you have my number? Why do you have my number? And why are you calling my number?

J: Oh it's good to know you are consistent with your sarcastic remarks. I can't answer all of them questions without revealing my sources.

M: FFS JULIAN. In reply to your question, I was fine, now I am not. How are you?

J: I just wanted to check you are okay with everything. Serious this time. I mean with the whole article, it's not fair for that to happen on your first day. How did the boyfriend take it?

M: Well I forgot to call him in the first place and then he saw that. As you can imagine he wasn't best pleased, but we are fine. He's going to be even happier when he sees my latest Instagram followers, thank you that.

J: Ha-ha. You are welcome, we are all friends, aren't we? Anyway, it was just a check-up. See you tomorrow trouble.

M: Night Julian.

Well that was random. For some odd reason, I didn't mind his flirting, I thought he was a friendly person. I decided to go take a bath before I continued my film. I needed to relax. Once I was finished I decided to not go on my phone for the rest of the film, I managed to watch the entire thing before my eyes started to close. Finally in bed, I drifted off to sleep, preparing myself for what Paris had in store for me.

....

3rd Person’s Pov

Before Molly went to sleep, she posted a photo to her Instagram. She loved the social media site, she liked to keep her friends and family members updated with her life, it helped considering she was living in a different country. After she posted the photo, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep, unaware of what she would awake to:

Instagram

adam95: oh my girlfriend is gorgeous !

k.mbappe: ^ agreed

[tamamatango]

Let’s talk about Kururu, again

Apparently the fandom is growing all of a sudden so I feel like talking about Kururu again cuz that’s all I know how to do and it’s been a while

First off disclaimer that fandom is fandom and anybody can interpret any character any way they want and if you like to portray a character a certain way for whatever reason go for it, more power to you (unless you put them in pedo/incest relationships that are displayed as good in which case fuck you). But in my personal Kirbpinion(TM) the Funimation dub was a fucking mistake because so many fan content creators write a way different Kururu than what he is in canon cuz the dub never got to his best episodes and also upped the sadism to ridiculous levels. Listen I know it’s funny to joke that he’s the kind of guy that has 3 medieval torture chambers but hear me out. Kururu is by no means a perfect person, he’s genuinely pretty rude/blunt (though sometimes his straightforwardness is justified :P), has an ego, sometimes acts pretty gross around others and likes extreme and elaborate pranks way way way too much BUT.

Assuming you’ve watched far enough into the series (like 100+ eps) I do not really understand the interpretation that he doesn’t care about anyone and that friendship and love are things he is totally incapable of. He says that yes but if you pay enough attention to his dialogue it becomes pretty apparent that he displays this attitude for multiple reasons. One is that he does genuinely have a hard time expressing the emotions he feels and often has awkward/guarded ways of doing so. But also he says many times over the course of the series that he has a “reputation” to keep up and wants people to call him a jerk; he wants to look cool and rebellious all the time and he thinks a nasty apathetic attitude is what earns him that status (not claiming that’s a healthy mindset, mind you). He wants to have full control over the way people see him and he gets super frustrated and humiliated when he can’t. This is probably why he gets so upset when people talk about how unpopular he is, because he’s spent so much time honing his image to a T and is like why the fuck isn’t this working?! In other words even though sometimes he is just an actual pain in the neck a lot of his asshole antics are part of a carefully manufactured persona, and he will do anything down to labeling his own memories to prevent other people from seeing through his facade and discovering the parts of him that are vulnerable.

And God forbid anyone does figure out that he does care quite a bit for the people around him, or at least if he didn’t at first he does now. Early on in the series he was commonly referred to as “depressing” and while the meta reason is probably just the anime writers just didn’t know how to adapt the character yet (he started out a little differently in the manga), in canon I believe he was just even more inclined to push everybody away from him, and as he began to get used to working in a group he gradually opened up. He commentates on how “soft” he’s gotten since he came to Earth a couple times, and the fact that he’s surprisingly one of the most loyal to Keroro out of the whole team (in many episodes where everyone abandons Keroro for being dumb he leaves last) and goes out of his way to help when he thinks it’s warranted (he asks for money when things aren’t dire yeah but hey labor deserves compensation :V) shows that he is dedicated to his team. There’s even episodes where he doles out some kind of moral lesson to the squad in his own Kururu-y way, especially to Keroro and Tamama. Even the Hinatas he’ll pitch in to protect when he has to, and we all know he’ll pretty much drop everything if Saburo needs him.

Speaking of which. I think the unspoken reason why he’s best friends with Saburo (besides the surface-level stuff like they’re smart and nerdy and seen as enigmas by everybody else) is because Saburo is the only other person in the cast who understands Kururu’s particular struggle of putting on airs as a means of self-defense all the time. He basically has a carefully managed celebrity life (that he has to constantly work to hide in anime canon), a somewhat formal/reserved public life, and the more quirky enthusiastic side of himself he only shows when alone and to the few people he’s close to and god damn that just sounds like the most exhausting juggling act ever. He has an outlet to free himself through his art but he still has to live with nobody quite knowing what he goes through on a daily basis, which is probably why we see him off on his own for most of the series (until he gets to warm up to everybody better...wonder who that sounds like) and occasionally have his bouts of frustration and insecurity like in 229 where he says “fuck it I’m gonna fight the apocalypse alone because I need something to do,” 354(? I think that’s the number) where he talks about just dropping everything and starting over, and I think one of the Christmas eps where Giroro has to like beg him to go to the Hinatas’ party cuz he says he’s “busy” even though he’s just sitting around pretty much (UPDATE: it’s 294 the implication is probably that he has his show or something but cmon that’s only like an hour lol). I am going off on a tangent now but anyway the point is he and Kururu are the most complicated communicators of the cast and they share feelings only they understand which is why they can more or less read each other’s minds and know exactly what to do when the other is in trouble.

Back to Kururu. Keroro, from what I can tell, is the closest to him out of the Platoon; Keroro gets freaked out by Kururu’s pranks sometimes yeah but they have a lot of common interests as the fun-lovers of the group and Kururu’s also kinda been interested in Keroro enough time follow him around for almost his entire life up to this point so there’s that. He also gets along with the other people he‘s around; we know he and Aki get along from the beginning because of how dynamic their personalities are but later on he gets close to Fuyuki to the point where they just hang out for the heck of it sometimes, and even though Natsumi is very justified in generally disliking him (many of Kururu’s more Eugh moments tend to involve her) even she seems to rely on him often, and in the cursed puppy episode she knows all his favorite foods by heart so she must care in some fashion lol. Dororo and he aren’t evidently super close but I think they get each other on some level as the (in-universe) least popular of the platoon and Dororo at least respects his abilities, and has clearly come to figure out his subtleties based on 229. Giroro and Mois...things get complicated. Just putting on record that I’m not a fan of either ship between Kururu and them. I’ve said this before but I think Giroro and Kururu are in a turbulent sibling-adjacent relationship in that they have completely opposing attitudes but they have a begrudging sense of respect for each other and, ultimately, they’re teammates, so they’ll defend each other when someone they don’t know tries to mess with them. I really don’t think the flirty stuff on Kururu’s end goes beyond teasing and I got kinda sick of that running gag if I’m being honest. (You can probably tell which frog I ship Kururu with by now :P) Mois went from something of a rival to Kururu to his lab partner, which is probably why he goes easier on her than he used to and even strikes up something of a friendship because the only other person he knows that might be capable of handling his technology is an Earthling who’s still against the invasion despite his lax attitude so. She helps :V

Now the question is why Kururu acts like he does if his relationships really aren’t all that bad and I think there’s two components to this. I’ve made it clear by now I think he’s autistic but your mileage may vary there. I think personally his childhood did something to the way he processes things as well. In Secret of the Kero Ball, he’s got a bandage on his head which may imply he got hurt somewhere and then he almost drowned which canonically definitely did something to him lol, was mostly seen alone so who knows if he has a family he still talks to, and then he got drafted into the army and placed into a high-ranking position of great responsibility at a very young age; it’s kind of a no-brainer why he rebeled and got demoted eventually. I’ve got plenty of headcanons about what his early days in the Military did to him but that’s for another day because good God this post went on too long.

In short: Kururu is possibly the most complicated character in the show and the F in Flanderization stands for “Funimation.” That’s it I’m never writing another essay about pee-color frog again I will make real content again at some point I promise

[authorized-trash]

To Tie a Knot: Chapter 5: Important Meetings in a Coffee Shop Bathroom

Ao3

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Content Warnings:

Self harm, self deprecation, making out, stress, emotional turmoil, elusion to character death, (If anything else needs mentioned tell me)

Chapter Summary:

Damian should know better than to walk into coffee shops when he’s the protagonist of a romance fanfiction smh

Word Count:

3,600+

Note: I posted the last chapter on Ao3 a day or two ago, and it got so many comments so fast I was inspired to write another on. So here is nearly 4k words of >:]. Chapter six is halfway done as well, so please, keep the comments up, I’ve never written so much so fast in my life asdf

-

-

By the time noon had come and gone and Logan had left, the others were restless. Patton was stress baking and Roman was practicing his lines a bit louder than normal. Virgil was nowhere to be seen, most likely hiding in their shared room listening to too-loud music.

Patton kneaded dough between his hands, planning on making bread. One would think he would make cookies or something while stressed, but he found the process of homemade bread and the smell of it baking was much better for calming. 

Over the years he had gotten pretty good actually, won a few dumb little neighborhood competitions with his baking. His soulmates all adored his cooking, Roman had stated one of his favorite things to wake up to was the smell of pie or bread.

Patton let his mind wander while he worked, thinking about his new soulmate. He couldn’t help the wave of anticipation and impatience that hit him when he thought about their meeting. He was just so excited! A large smile stretched across his face, and he did a few happy stomps with his feet.

Roman stopped repeating his lines and looked over to him, a soft smile on his face.

“You okay over there, dear? You’re lucky that bread isn’t alive, you’re beating it quite thoroughly,” Roman said with a teasing tone.

Patton looked up at him, blushing a bit at being caught, “Oh! Yeah of course I’m fine! I’m just overwhelmingly giddy, I guess.”

Roman laughed and crossed the room with a few long strides, grabbing Patton around the waist and setting his chin to rest on the other’s head. He gave a kiss to Patton’s scalp, and Patton giggled and swatted playfully at him.

“Ro stop, I’m trying to cook,” Patton whined, placing the kneaded dough into a bread pan. He leaned back into Roman’s hold either way, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“Sorry Sweetheart, I simply couldn’t resist,” Roman winked, laughing softly. They stood there for a few moments in silence, swaying slightly.

“Do you think they’ll like my bread?” Patton asked quietly.

“What? Of course! If they don’t I will have to fight them,” Roman said dramatically. Patton chuckled.

“No fighting Roman, everyone has their own tastes.”

“If someone’s taste doesn’t like your bread, they’re wrong. Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” Roman spun Patton and gave him a peck to the lips.

The oven beeped a few times behind them, and Patton started to squirm in Roman’s hold.

“Babe, you gotta let me go so I can cook!” Patton said, squealing as Roman held steadfast, unmoving.

“Nuh uh, you are in the Princey Dungeon of snuggles and cuddles, I’m very sorry Padre, but I simply cannot let go unless you pay bail.”

“Which is?”

“Kiss me.”

Patton didn’t protest as he pressed their lips together. Roman hummed and smiled into the kiss, trailing his hands up Patton’s back and threading his fingers into Patton’s hair. After a few long seconds they parted for air, but Roman didn’t seem to want to stop, and at this point neither did Patton.

Before long Patton was up against the counter, kissing back with fervor as Roman picked his legs up and sat him on the counter. Patton made a small noise into the kiss, arms draped around Roman’s shoulders.

Just as Roman was teasing his hand up and under Patton’s shirt, a gagging noise came from the door.

“Eugh, can ya’ll like, not be horny in the kitchen please? I don’t want you contaminating my bread.”

Roman nearly fell to his ass with how fast he jumped off of Patton, and Patton buried his head in his hands and grumbled something under his breath.

Virgil laughed all the way to the kitchen’s island, wheezing and wiping tears from his eyes.

“You two should see your faces, you would think your parent’s just caught you or somethin’. Calm thyselves.”

Patton just stood silently and went to put the bread in the oven.

“Wait, excuse you. Your bread? No, sorry sis, it’s mine,” Roman said as he brushed himself off.

“Oh god, please don’t call me sis, I’m your boyfriend, that’s weird,” Virgil said, moving to sit himself up onto the counter on the other side of the room.

“Oh,” Patton spoke up suddenly, “Roman, I meant to ask, how’s Remus? You haven’t talked about him in awhile.”

Roman’s brother Remus visited them every holiday. It was getting close to thanksgiving at this point, and they were all looking forward to seeing him.

Roman shrugged, “Don’t know, haven’t talked to him in… a little over a month now?”

“How come?” Patton asked.

“Normally I’m not the one who reaches out to talk, I just haven’t thought about it. And since, ya know, I don’t talk to my parents, it’s easy to lose contact for larger periods of time,” Roman explained, slumping into a chair at the kitchen table. Patton nodded in understanding.

They went back to their routines, this time with both Roman and Virgil on their phones while Patton baked a few more things.

Half an hour went by with little words, just a comfortable silence as they all enjoyed the company.

A sharp and hard tug caught their attention.

“Ow, damnit,” Virgil said, shaking his hand roughly as if it were burned. The other two looking down at their hands in confusion, wincing as their yellow strings gave another sharp and painful tug.

“Language,” Patton chided absentmindedly, then, “Do they want something?”

“I don’t think people yank on their strings that hard in order to get someone’s attention, Dearest,” Roman said, flinching as he bent his finger. It was already sore.

“They’re not trying to take the string off or something, right? That’s impossible, they should know that,” Virgil said shakily, curling in on himself and his hoodie.

“It is. Maybe they’re not thinking clearly?” Roman said, trying to offer an explanation.

Patton pouted, 

“I hope they’re okay.”

-

Damian was not okay.

You wouldn’t be able to tell it, though, with the way he was carrying himself.

His strides were confident, and he held his head high. He tipped his hat at the people who walked by and offered polite hellos. He looked like every bit of a man who was sure of himself.

But he was far from it, really.

If you knew him personally and were looking closely, you could see the way he sometimes fidgeted with his jacket sleeves. You’d notice the slight tremble in his hands, or the way he seemed to run his fingers through his hair too many times. He honestly probably had his hat off more than he had it on, lifting it off of his head as much as he was.

Damian was a nervous wreck, but a nervous wreck who was good at hiding it.

His classes that day were ridiculously stressful, and it didn’t help when every other person exclaimed suddenly when they noticed the shadows of his soulstrings. He would wave them off, or excuse himself. Hell, a few times he even made up what his soulmates were like. He wove tales of wonderful people who had swept him off his feet, if only to appease the asker and get them to stop bugging him.

He had watched earlier that day as the indigo string seemed to detach from the others, just barely heading in a different direction. It was a very slow process, meaning they were probably decently far, but it still scared him.

Were they going to work? Coming to find him? Oh god, what if indigo left the other three because he couldn’t deal with another string showing up? What if Damian was the reason why they broke up?

No, Damian thought to himself with a shake of his head, no that was ridiculous. Really, he needed to stop letting his head go off in random directions, the self deprecation was getting old.

Damian walked up the steps of his apartment building, entering with a nod towards the doorman. The man smiled and waved.

“Heya, DJ,” He greeted. 

“Hello, Larry. How’s the wife?”

“Oh you know her, same old. She’s missed you, you know. You should really come over for some tea sometime soon,” Larry said, opening the door for Damian.

“Sure thing, how does Thursday sound?”

“That would be awesome, see you then, Damian.”

Damian smiled to himself as he entered the elevator to his floor. He let out a shuddery breath. Small talk came to him easily, he was never really introverted to be honest, but that didn’t stop it from being taxing on the days when he really didn’t want to have to see people.

As soon as he crossed the threshold to his apartment, he checked the time. 

Okay, it was a little past five in the afternoon, cool. He figured Remy would be up to go somewhere, if he wasn’t already out with Emile.

He shot him a text, which he got an immediate reply on.

Girl course i wanna hang. Ill be there in half hour, see ya hot stuff xoxo

Damian chuckled to himself. Of course Remy would be the kind of person to still unironically use X’s and O’s.

He double tapped the message to like it, and took off for the restroom. He needed to freshen up before he left for the outside world.

He went ahead and re-brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and washed his face. He really needed some moisturizer for his burns, they were getting a little scratchy around the edges, the sensitive skin looking a little red and agitated. 

By the time he was done toweling himself off, his eyes fell from his face in the mirror to the strings tied neatly around his fingers. He had spent most of the day ignoring them, other than the occasional check-in on Indigo’s progress.

He looked at them for a long while, feeling how they moved. He always found it so fascinating, how sometimes they would be pulled tight and sensitive to any slight movement, and how other times they seemed to pool onto the floor in piles of color. He figured it depended on some kind of need or something, it was always when someone’s emotions were high that the strings seemed to tighten, maybe as a way to aid communication.

Damian just figured it was some weird magicky shit, and didn’t let it bother him too much. He had gotten over the trying to explain the strings stage back in middle school, back when it was just him and green.

Nausea and guilt ate at his insides even thinking about the green string. It hung loosely to the fingers on the hand opposite the new strings, its once brilliant earthy color now a faded grey.

It was so pale and sad looking in comparison to the other brighter strings, and Damian couldn’t help but want to cry again. It was such a lovely color, and he was sure they would have been such a lovely person.

He didn’t even have a name to mourn, a funeral to attend to. Only a sad little frayed string to cry pitifully over.

And that brings up another question, why frayed? Damian hadn’t met anyone who had a dead soulmate that had a frayed string. Sure, others had their colors dulled, but the end looked clipped with scissors. Damian’s looked as if someone had pulled it apart with their teeth.

It wasn’t fair, Damian thought. It wasn’t fair that he got all these questions. It wasn’t even a simple, “oh no, my soulmate is dead, I’m doomed to be lonely and soulless.” No, he had to deal with all these mysteries. Why frayed? Why four others? Why add him to an already complete group? Why not someone else? Why had it been a month, when the average wait on the reassigning was a week? Were the other’s even able to love him like they loved each other? Damian wasn’t paired with someone equally as heartbroken and lonely, he was paired with an already complete soulmate relationship. Was he doomed to be an outcast?

Damian didn’t want this, he didn’t ask for this. 

His emotions were all over the place, but he steeled himself, and with an angry huffed, he grabbed his four strings, and yanked.

White hot, dizzying pain lanced up his arm, and he gave a shout. His vision blanked, and a throbbing headache pounded behind his eyes.

His vision cleared after a while, stars and dots still dancing across his eyes. The pain was so bad, it was nearly incapacitating. 

And in a mix of morbid curiosity and the horrible feeling of self loathing, he yanked again, harder.

He stumbled to the ground, sweat beginning to drip from his forehead. His heart was pounding in his ears, and what sounded like a dull roar caused his eardrums to hurt. Every bone in his body ached, and his arm hurt to move.

Well, he thought, guess they were pretty authentic then, at the very least.

He heard a knock at the door and tripped over himself to get up. He dabbed his face with the towel once again, wincing at the pain in his arms.

By the time he left the bathroom, Remy was already standing inside.

“What on earth were you doing in there, you look awful,” Remy asked, before going a bit pale, “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

“Oh shut it,” Damian snapped, taking his hat off the counter and fitting it back into place.

“So, wanna head out to that coffee shop you like downtown?”

Damian shrugged, “Why not.”

“Sweet, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Damian sighed but laughed at his friend's antics, following him out the door with a fond shake of his head.

The coffee shop was nice. It was small, cozy, and had a nice arrangement of potted plants scattered about. The barista was kind, and pretty cute. They had a cute grungy-emo thing going on. 

Damian had a thing for emos.

He, like normal, had ordered some black coffee with two creams and a sugar, much to Remy’s dismay. Remy had then proceeded to buy some ridiculously over sweetened drink with a stupid name and two muffins to share, much to Damian’s dismay.

“You have got to stop buying food for me Remy, I’m a grown man, I can pay for myself.”

“I offered. Besides, you need your money for your hobbies.”

“What hobbies?” Damian laughed, smiling despite himself.

“I don’t know, your music. You play the clarinet, right?”

“Flute, actually,” Said Damian, rolling his eyes, “And it’s not a hobby. Band was the only reason I managed to get into college. You know this, why are you asking?”

It was Remy’s turn to roll his eyes, “Small talk, babes.”

Damian was so caught up in their conversation he missed as the indigo string tied to his finger moved at a rate much, much faster than earlier that day.

“Mhmm, small talk about something we are both familiar with?”

“I don’t know, you band nerds seem to like to talk about band, despite making sure it is known that it is hell on earth,” Remy laughed, “Why don’t you, I don’t know, tell one of those ‘this one time at band camp-’ stories, babes?”

“Uh huh, and which one haven’t you heard?” Damian did in fact have a lot of stories, as every band kid tended to, but he was almost certain Remy had heard every one three times. It was obviously his best friend was just trying to cheer him up, and honestly? Damian really appreciated it.

“I don’t know, what about the one time you passed out on field and went to the hospital for a broken rib after being stepped on?” Remy’s grin was shit-eating, and Damian felt his face turn a deep crimson.

“We agreed not to talk about that,” he hissed, attempting to hide his face behind his coffee as he took a sip.

Remy shook his head as he laughed, before standing up.

“I’m heading to the restroom babes, try not to miss me too much.”

Damian sighed and sat back in his chair as Remy left, closing his eyes and smiling to himself. He was enjoying himself, this was nice. Remy was an awesome friend and really helped Damian to forget all about his stupid soulmates.

If all went Damian’s way, he wouldn’t have to deal with soulmates for the rest of the day.

Of course, knowing how fate liked to fuck him over, that isn’t what happened.

-

Logan had had an exhausting day, and he was ready to get it over with. He wanted nothing more than to go home to his soulmates and curl up against them, but he knew he couldn’t. He had been sentenced to sleeping in a cold hotel bed, alone.

The day had started well, with breakfast with his beloveds and a few kisses to his cheek, and a few kisses he returned. He had left with a small smile on his face.

But his good mood had slowly disappeared as the day wore on, as no sign of his other soulmate was to be found. The string slowly started to move more and more as he was sure he was getting closer, but the direction it was in was so vague, he could only hope he was going the right way as he drove.

Honestly, he didn’t know why some machine to find them hadn’t been invented yet. Surely there was some way to get some magnetic something or other to pick up on soulstrings, and then lead you there with a convenient little GPS voice.

But nope, the stupid strings were too stubborn to be beat. Everyone had just accepted them as immovable magic and was done with it.

Everyone including Logan, but he still felt like he was allowed to complain about that fact.

It was a little past six in the evening at this point, and the sky was beginning to darken considerably. Logan could feel his body getting heavier, but wasn’t quite tired enough to stop yet. 

He didn’t think his perception skills were too bad, surely he had a few more hours left in him.

That was probably a bad judgement call, as they were apparently bad enough to not notice how fast the string on his finger moved as he turned the corner into coffee shop parking lot.

He locked his car as he stepped away from it, and entered the building. He took a right to the restroom, wanting to wash his hands before doing anything else, not enjoying the feeling of sweaty driving palms. 

He heard the door behind him open, and looked up to see a man wearing sunglasses (indoors?) walk in.

“‘Sup Babes,” the man said, and Logan lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

“Babes? I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The man laughed, “Nope, you just look like someone who would be fun to piss off by calling them babes. For real though, why are you wearing a necktie in a coffee shop?”

“Plenty of people wear neckties in a coffee shop,” Logan answered, fixing his tie with an affronted look. The other man just laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“The name’s Remy,” The man said, offering his hand to shake. Logan took it, if with a little hesitance and confusion.

“Logan.” Logan responded. Remy nodded, going to turn around and leave, probably deterred from using the restroom in what would now be an awkward situation. He stopped suddenly, eyes going wide from behind his sunglasses.

“You have four soulmates?” He said, looking at the slight shadow cast on the tiled floor.

“Yes,” Logan answered, easily. Remy was not the first one to ask that today. There was the woman at the gas station, and the man walking his dog outside of the Ihop. It was a little disorienting hearing four instead of three, but whatever.

“You here with someone? One of your strings seems to be pointing in a weird direction,” Remy commented, nodding down at the shadow heading straight out the bathroom door. Logan looked down hurriedly, just now noticing the yellow string that was pulled tight.

“I- no I’m not. I’ve actually been looking for our fourth soulmate all day,” Logan didn’t take his eyes off the string, “In fact, it only appeared recently. Me and my other soulmates decided it best to find them as soon as possible.

After a few more minutes of staring wide eyed at his yellow string, he looked up at Remy. He, once again, looked confused at the wide smile that had spread across Remy’s face. The sunglasses clad man grabbed Logan by the hand and tugged him towards the door.

“Come on, there’s someone you need to meet.”

Logan allowed himself to be pulled back into the main part of the coffee shop and led in the direction of a booth in the back. He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he caught sight of the man seated at the table.

“Damian, babes, you will not fucking believe who I just ran into,” Remy exclaimed. The man, Damian, turned around to face them.

The two men locked eyes, and Logan felt his heart hammering in his chest, that familiar yet foreign feeling of something clicking into place in his chest was present for the fourth time in his life, and he was almost certain he had never been happier.

Logan was at a loss for words for one of the few times in his life.

“Uhm, hello?”

-

-

Taglist in reblog

[elmelloill]

Lucky Jacket

AUs are dangerous because sometimes you’ll write a chapter and then your friend will draw art for it and then you’ll end up talking about the clothes characters wear and then you end up writing 2500 words in the AU that don’t belong anywhere in the fic but you just have them now so you’ve gotta post them somewhere, right? 

Anyway. This is because @matte-bat and i started talking about Klavier’s leather jacket on twitter. 

Drabble for my klapollo college AU, Anyway, Here’s Guilty Love, taking place the next semester so I can ignore all the angst stuff that hasn’t actually happened in the fic yet. 

As always, god I hope the readmore works on mobile otherwise i’m sorry

Klavier Gavin was, in general, a very punctual person. Although fashionable in everything else, he was rarely fashionably late, and so when Apollo spent fifteen minutes sitting in the quad waiting for his boyfriend to arrive for their date that evening, he started to get legitimately concerned.

Two texts had already gone unanswered. Frowning at his phone, Apollo sat on the picnic bench, tapping his toe, for another thirty seconds before deciding he might as well try to figure out what was going on. And if Klavier was on his way, the two of them would just run into each other.

That’s what Apollo fully expected to happen, but he made it all the way to the Gavinners house without encountering any tall platinum blonds. Somewhat perplexed, he stood on the doorstep for a moment, and just as he was about to knock, the door opened in front of him.

“Hey, Klav—” he began, but it was Daryan on the other side of the door.

“Good, you’re here,” Daryan said. He looked troubled, and Apollo felt a flutter of worry in his stomach.

“Yeah, uh, is Klavier…”

“He’s fine,” Daryan assured him, rolling his eyes. “He’s just having…a moment.”

“O…kay?”

Daryan leaned against the wall. “You know his leather jacket, right? The one that like, starts to dissolve if he wears it in the rain?”

Apollo nodded. He knew it very well.

It had been a gift from Klavier’s host family in Germany. To many, the jacket might have been deemed unwearable many years ago, but Klavier had been very creative. Loose threads had been diligently trimmed, fraying edges artfully concealed, lost zipper pulls replaced with tiny silver Gavinners charms. The sleeves, too short after Klavier’s high school growth spurt, were in a state of being permanently rolled up, and Klavier managed to make it look like the hem was supposed to be cropped short by pairing the jacket with well-chosen graphic tees. The entire thing probably would have been uncomfortably tight around his shoulders by now if years of wear hadn’t gently stretched and softened the leather—it had quite literally grown with him.

Klavier’s attachment to the jacket was a bit of a puzzle, but then again, many things about Klavier were a bit of a puzzle. He had come back from Germany with a whole new vocabulary, after all, so it wasn’t too strange that he had also returned with a jacket that apparently doubled as something of a security blanket. Klavier called it “good luck,” but whether there was any rationale behind that declaration remained unknown.

“Well, it ripped,” Daryan explained.

Apollo frowned, confused. He was fairly certain the jacket had already ripped, multiple times, and Klavier had been playing it off as an intentional fashion choice for at least a year.

“Okay, understatement,” Daryan went on, noticing Apollo’s doubt. “One of the elbows disintegrated.”

Apollo’s frown turned to a grimace. “Ah.”

“Yeah. So he’s, uh, mourning, I guess.”

Of course he was.

Apollo sighed. “I’ll go talk to him.”

The door to Klavier’s bedroom was slightly ajar, so Apollo pushed his way hesitantly into the room.

Klavier sat cross-legged on the floor, the jacket spread out on his lap. He held the sleeve in one hand and a needle and thread in the other, and he was apparently attempting to sew a patch over the missing elbow. A questionable choice, Apollo thought, but he could probably pull it off.

As Apollo watched, Klavier very slowly poked the needle through the sleeve, and very slowly dragged the thread through. It almost worked, but as he pulled to tighten the thread, a crack snaked through the leather and the material around the thread crumbled into pieces. Klavier’s shoulders slumped.

“Verdammt,” he muttered.

“Hey, Klav,” Apollo said quietly, and Klavier jumped.

“Oh! Apollo,” he said, brushing a hand through his bangs in an attempt to hide how startled he had been. Then his eyes widened. “Oh. Shit. What time is it?”

Apollo chuckled. “You’re very late.”

Klavier looked pained. “Ach. Schatzi, I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. I heard there’s been a tragedy.” He dropped to the floor next to Klavier to take a closer look at the jacket. “Eugh. That doesn’t look good.”

Klavier sighed. “I’m afraid I’m just making it worse.”

“Hm.” Apollo wished he could say otherwise, but it really did seem like the sleeve was beyond repair. “And you can’t wear it like that?”

Apollo was doubtful, but he wouldn’t put anything past Klavier.

Dejectedly, Klavier shrugged the jacket on. No, there really isn’t any way to make that look stylish, is there?

The end of the torn sleeve looked awkwardly orphaned from the rest of the jacket, and as Klavier experimentally bent his arm, the rip in the material only broadened.

Even so, Klavier looked somewhat hopeful, as if he wished Apollo would tell him it really didn’t look all that bad, actually.

“Hm,” Apollo said instead. The glint of hope in Klavier’s eyes died.

He sighed heavily and gingerly removed the jacket, resting it on his lap again. The two of them looked down at it.

“Klavier,” Apollo said slowly. Sometimes, after a long life, old leather jackets have to move on to the big motorcycle gang in the sky, where their zippers never get stuck and they can listen to as much rock music as they want… “I think you need a new jacket.”

Klavier sniffed. “But…”

“Besides,” Apollo pointed out, “it’s not even cold enough for a jacket.” It was October—outside was a balmy 76 degrees.

Klavier pouted. “It was part of my outfit,” he said, his voice quiet. He ran a finger over the torn edge.

Apollo bumped their shoulders together. “I’m sorry, Klav. I know it was your favorite.”

Klavier gave a small, disconsolate nod, then carefully folded the jacket and stood.

“You’re probably starving,” he said apologetically. “We can go.”

He took a moment to place the jacket on his bed, then followed Apollo downstairs.

“You can hang it on your wall,” Apollo suggested. “You know—Miles Edgeworth style.”

Klavier blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Okay, Apollo. Point made. It’s just a jacket, after all.”

Apollo’s bracelet squeezed slightly at that, but he decided to let it slide.

~~~

Apollo Justice was on a mission.

When Clay woke up Saturday morning the following week, he looked across the room to see Apollo already awake and dressed, sitting at his desk and poring over his laptop.

“Are you doing homework…?” he asked doubtfully. Although Apollo was perhaps slightly more studious than average, 10 a.m. on a Saturday was a little much.

Apollo didn’t even look his direction. “No. Hey, do you know any good thrift stores? Besides these ones.”

Squinting at Apollo’s screen, Clay could see a map of the city, scattered with red pins.

“Uh, not really. Why are you looking for thrift stores?”

Apollo needed for a thrift store because both shopping malls that he could reach via city bus had proven woefully inadequate when it came to providing a replacement for a cherished leather jacket. He was moving on to Plan B.

He explained the situation to Clay, who apparently knew Klavier well enough by this point that he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“Well,” Clay said. “I didn’t really have any plans for today, anyway.”

Apollo blinked. “You don’t need to come…”

“I’m closer to his size, aren’t I? Let’s find your boyfriend a jacket.”

Then Clay called Ema, who apparently knew the jacket’s history and was surprisingly sympathetic, and Ema called Kay, who was the only one in their extended friend group who had a car. Soon the four of them were pulling away from campus in Kay’s black sedan, Ema in the passenger seat while Apollo called out directions from his phone from the back.

The first store was a bust for leather jackets, although Kay found some sunglasses and Ema spent a long time looking at ties. Clay snatched up a nebula sweatshirt at the next shop, and Apollo actually found really nice suit vest at the third. The fourth store had a wide selection of jackets, but they were all either too worn, too big, or the wrong color.

By late afternoon, Apollo was starting to get very discouraged. The number of stores on his list was dwindling, and, while the four of them had all found some great cheap purchases, their original goal was yet unfulfilled.

“Maybe you can contact the host family,” Kay suggested as they left the second-to-last store. “Find out what brand it is, and buy one online?”

He had thought of that, although he hadn’t needed to go so far as to reach out to the family—he remember the tag on the inside of the jacket. And although the original wasn’t in stock anymore, there were numerous others he could have chosen from—if he wanted to spend his next two paychecks from Mr. Wright, that was. He sighed.

“That’s kind of a last resort,” he admitted. Klavier deserved it, of course, but…ouch.

But his optimism was wearing thin by the time they walked into the final store on his list. It was one of the nicer places they had visited—Kay was immediately drawn to a display of gloves, and Ema drifted over to the selection of button-down shirts—but when Apollo finally found the men’s jackets, he knew right away he would be disappointed. There was one leather jacket, but he could already tell it was too big.

But the rest of his friends were still looking around, so he wandered the aisles absently, running his fingers across a rack of shirts.

“Ah! Pollo!”

Apollo looked up sharply to see Clay skid to a stop at the end of the aisle. He spread his arms wide. He was wearing a leather jacket.

For a moment, Apollo could only stare.

“It’s…that’s…”

“Perfect, right?” Clay said. “And it’s super comfortable, too. I literally don’t want to take it off.”

Reluctant to celebrate just yet, Apollo walked in a circle around Clay, half-expecting to find that the back of the jacket was covered in some elaborate rhinestone monstrosity, or that it had some weird smell. But it was just a classic black leather jacket with a few tasteful zippered pockets, and it seemed barely worn. It fit Clay really well, too, and although Clay was shorter than Klavier, they had a similar build.

“Where did you find it?” He was faintly afraid that a customer would storm up to them imminently and accuse Clay of snatching the article of clothing out of their own basket.

Clay gestured vaguely. “Over there, on a rack. Someone must have put it back in the wrong spot.”

Tentatively, Apollo flipped over the price tag, and exhaled in relief. A little pricey, but nothing like the ones he had seen online.

“It’s perfect,” he agreed finally. Clay beamed.

The four of them made their purchases and returned to campus. Back in his room Apollo carefully wrapped up the jacket in tissue paper and put it in a plain paper shopping back that he had lying around. Then he paused.

Klavier’s birthday had passed in the summer. Their six-month anniversary had been last month. Christmas was much too long from now. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t just give Klavier a gift out of the blue, but it would be nice if there was some occasion…

He was idly scrolling through Facebook that evening when it came to him.

One this day: one year ago.

Belong was the image Klavier had made to advertise the first meeting of the Ivy Pre-Law Society.

That’s as good an excuse as any, he thought, smiling, even if it was a couple days off.

He texted Klavier to make sure he was around, then headed over to the Gavinners house.

Sam let him in. Klavier was in his room, sitting at his desk doing homework. On a Saturday night. Apollo would never not find it amusing that his boyfriend was a bigger nerd than he was.

Klavier turned around curiously when Apollo rapped a knuckle lightly against the door.

“Schatzi,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “what’s up?”

Apollo held out the bag. “Don’t worry, you didn’t need to get me anything.”

Frowning, Klavier accepted it. “What’s this?”

“Your, uh, we-started-our-club-one-year-ago present,” Apollo explained. He shrugged. “I dunno. Just open it.”

Klavier dug into the bag and unwrapped the jacket. His mouth fell open.

“Apollo…” he breathed.

Apollo rubbed his neck. “I know your old one meant a lot to you, and I know I can’t really replace it, but…I dunno, this one probably isn’t as nice? But it seemed really comfortable, so, um…” He bit his lip. “Hopefully it fits, at least?”

Wordlessly, Klavier unzipped the jacket and put it on. It did fit, like a glove. Klavier straightened out the sleeves and seemed momentarily surprised that they reached all the way to his wrists.

“Apollo,” he began, as he adjusted the lapels and flipped up the collar, “you didn’t have to…”

“Well, I wanted to,” Apollo said. Then he smiled wryly. “And you’re not really acting like someone who’s actually about to refuse a gift.”

Klavier, who was partway through securing the zipper, paused. He reddened slightly. “Well. It is very comfortable…”

Apollo laughed. “Good. It looks good.”

Klavier lifted his head, and Apollo noticed that his eyes looked a little shinier than usual. “Thank you, Apollo. This is…you really didn’t have to, but…it’s perfect.”

Apollo relaxed. “I know it’s not really the same as the old one…” he started to say, but Klavier shook his head.

“That one was special because it was a gift from people I care about,” he replied. “And so is this, ja? No less special.” He stretched his shoulders. “And look—no splitting seams!”

“I really can’t believe the old one lasted that long,” Apollo marveled.

Klavier took a breath. “Debatable that it really lasted,” he admitted. He stood and crossed the room to check his reflection in the mirror hanging behind his door. “I may actually be able to wear this for a concert without worrying about a wardrobe malfunction.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “Do you ever actually worry about that?”

Tilting his head, Klavier considered this. “No, not really. All part of the show, ja?” He grinned at Apollo over his shoulder, and Apollo rolled his eyes.

Klavier admired his reflection for a moment longer, then turned. “But schatz, now I feel bad. I did not get you a club anniversary present.”

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to me.”

“Will I now?” Klavier’s lips spread into a smile. He came to stand in front of Apollo, resting his hands on Apollo’s waist.

Apollo tried to suppress his own smile as he looked up at Klavier. “Yeah, you’re smart, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Klavier murmured, leaning in and capturing his lips.

Apollo responded by grabbing the lapels of Klavier’s jacket and pulling him closer. It was strangely satisfying to do so without worrying that the fabric might come apart in his hands.  

~~~

The next morning, Apollo woke to a text from Clay.

Clay [10:03 AM]: so...... i guess klavier liked his new jacket

One of Apollo’s arms was trapped awkwardly under a snoozing Klavier’s head, so he typed out a succinct message with one hand.

Apollo [10:04 AM]: shut up

Clay [10:04 AM]: you’re welcome ;)

[publicnym]

Preliminary: notice yourself talking to yourself

Going through a not-so-random pick from the preliminaries listed in this post: https://publicnym.tumblr.com/post/622844745367076864/preliminaries

I tried earlier today to chew through p1 from the main protocol, but, after all, there are “preliminaries” listed above the primary protocol for a reason. So I’ll do some of them as a preliminary step.

This one I’ll start off by trying to transcribe what I hear in my head. I guess I’ll qualify that sometimes I hear things in my head that I don’t really believe - mean things, sometimes targeted at myself, other people, loved ones.

---

I’m kinda hurting in my chest, not sure what that’s about. This screen is too bright. My leg itches. I’m making so many typos, what’s wrong with me? It’s this laptop keyboard. I spent so much on it, spend a lot of time calling it “so nice” but is it really? I’m trash, not the laptop. I have a headache. I deserve the headache. Wow, that’s stupid. I hear a lot of voices talking about physical discomfort. Pretty far cry from a Buddha sitting under a tree absorbed in meditation for 40 days. Well, whatever. It’s supposed to take some 2000 hours minimum to even approach something like stream entry, right? Heck, I don’t even care about stream entry, what’s that? I’m just an animal, why should I try to elevate myself. And that’s a stupid thought. Why is it stupid? If you’re content, stay content. But I’m not content. Obviously I’m not content. I’m taking action to do something else while I’ve been stuck at home, apparently quite happy with the state of not having to talk to people. Oh, fuck, I have to work tomorrow. I really don’t want to. I feel guilty about that. I have a great job. I should care more. Like a little wage slave? (Just sighed and scratched my head.) What’s the use of trying to transcribe these voices? They’re coming and going faster than I/you can correct my/your typos. (Scratching again) I ate too much. What is wrong with me? Someone else do the job of being me. You can be a wife and just stumble into a lucky life where you can pretend to be good enough to work where you work and no one seems to notice that you’re nowhere near what they really need.

This is hard. (Why am I so itchy constantly? It’s like I don’t notice this until I start trying to think about what I’m thinking.)

My husband likes to say that he knows I’m deep in thought if I’m really picking at my scalp or messing with my hair. Am I just itchy too? Maybe this is why my skin is so bad. I can’t leave it alone.

Now my voices are starting to go a little more quiet. That’s weird. I think they’re still mostly there, but it’s now only this voice doing the typing that I can pick out readily now.

(Dioooooo!) - some part of my brain that’s referencing Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure.

Yeah, there’s not much happening now. It was like a party just a couple of minutes ago. Sorry, that’s super boring. (Super Bowl!)

Maybe I should be doing free-association instead. (Maybe I should be doing anything instead. Maybe I’m wasting my life.)

Itch. Itch. Scratch! Scab. Scabby. Scabulent. That’s not a word. Hearing things outside. I live in the city, so lots of traffic hums. I don’t miss feeling like I have to go outside and be part of people.

I’ve got a tiny red patch on my arm from the sudden bout of itchiness I’ve had while writing this. It’s like I have an allergic reaction to really listening to my inner dialogue/monologue/party chatter.

Alexander candor the great! He itched the Gordian knot away like a cat, meow. (More scratching.)

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Okay. Calling it a night.

---

Actually, no, of course I’m not just going to “call it a night” after I post this. I’m of course going to read over this and go meta about it.

Yeah, lots of physical discomfort. It was super weird how that seemed to suddenly wash over me as I became more aware of what I was thinking. Usually it sort of happens above my awareness, but this time I was fully focused on it.

I can probably start to pick out some of these “voices” a little bit - the “wow, that’s stupid” voice seems to chime in to regain control over dumb thoughts, which I’m sure was because I was quite aware that I was transcribing my thoughts. Eugh... actually, just thinking that is giving me a really creepy sensation like I called myself out. Ew... like there’s another person inside me trying to influence me. Well, that’s a gross feeling. I’m just going to... temporarily pretend that I’m not sensing that as I try to settle down to sleep tonight. Yuck.

“Obviously I’m not content. I’m taking action to do something else while I’ve been stuck at home, apparently quite happy with the state of not having to talk to people.“ I’m going to microscope on this a little bit. “apparently quite happy” is referring to my husband talking about how I seem the most normal of anyone he’s met dealing with the effects of isolation during the pandemic. To which I would add, well, I’m not actually alone like most people, I have him, so I *can* be relatively comfortable and normal. But he’s including people in his social circle that also have people that they live with. Well... I’m likely one of the most introverted people my husband knows, too.

Anyway. I’m obviously not content, or I wouldn’t be trying to change something inside of myself. There are a few things I think I could get from meditation, one of which is just not burning energy on turning my wheels over my emotions as much. Just process, move on. I’m also QUITE sure that I have some creative energy that I’m not using as a result of what’s gotten rather twisted on my inside.

It’s like I really didn’t enjoy that he said that... hm. Why? I was definitely also a little bit “proud” that he said that. How strange :/

Heh... seeing some parallels here to another pervasive problem I have, but maybe I’ll leave that until later (I’m still pretty deep in denial about it, maybe because it’s not real :)))) ).

[delicatefury]

Well, I’m at the LCS

My sister was here, then she left, then she came back, then she left again. She picked up a shift at her one job about a month ago, but the guy never made it official (Never in the schedule, never reminded her, just asked a month ago and dropped it). Plus, she has work at her other job in the afternoon. So it’s a mess and she’s trying to fix it cause it’s kinda her fault they don’t currently have a bartender but kinda not.

But this time when she left she took her coffee, and her dog, and left the muffin. So I don’t have to wonder about what to do with a four-shot vanilla latte, or an upset dog (who loves me except when my sister puts her in my care and leaves. If I’m holding the leash and my sister goes into a shop... yeah. That dog gets pathetic real quick) but I get a blueberry muffin, which is awesome because my pumpkin cranberry one sucked. (The pumpkin bit is awesome, but when it meets the cranberries... eugh. Too tart and too goopy).

Kinda sucks, though, cause outside of TV watching, we don’t hang out so much currently, and coffee shop walks are always nice.

On the way here, we ran into my two street cat friends. They didn’t come up for pets ‘cause, y’know, German Shepherd, but they look pretty content and well looked after. They also seemed to have determined to make their own little clowder together instead of fighting. I’m glad. They’re both sweethearts and so friendly. I’m happy to report that the two next door houses they hang out at are still leaving out water and cat food.

Also, a kid just walked up, holding a retainer of all things, asking if I was... well, a name that’s very similar to mine, but not quite. He got through the first two syllabals and I was like “Holy shit, how does this random kid know my name?” but then the name kept going and instead I thought “Oh thank god, I’ve never gone by that variation in my life, there’s no way he’s referring to me.” But how weird, right?

Without naming names, the list of acceptable nicknames for me is short. There’s a lot of options, actually, especially if you count alternative spellings and nicknames that spin off of nicknames. The problem? Being a common name, I’ve encountered a lot of people in both real life and fiction who use some of those variations and nicknames. I didn’t care for most of them. Nothing kills your desire to pick up a girlier varient of your name than meeting someone who personifies “spoiled brat” using it.

My brother’s kitten spent the night in my room again. And she’s still going to me for breakfast. My sister is getting concerned that the kitten’s going to prefer me to my brother by the time she’s grown. Which is bullshit and let me tell you why: 

1.) It’s obvious to anyone who pays attention; she loves my cat, not me (well, she does love me a little, but I have a point here). The places she goes that are “my” places are actually my cat’s. She goes to his basket, lies on his corner of my bed, Hangs out in the corner of my room under his windowsill (that she’s too short to reach). This kitten just adores my cat. 

2.) She does the same thing when my brother comes home that my cat does when it’s me. She goes to the window to check who’s approaching, sees that it’s my brother and immediately sits up to attention, little tail swatting the air, and basically starts vibrating she’s purring so hard. She loves him. She’s also come to accept that he does not go to sleep before 3AM, so if she wants a dog-free human to cuddle her only option is me, and he does not wake up before 10 and she gets hungry at 7, and as I’m the only one consistently up around 7~7:30, again her only option is me. But trust me. My brother and my cat, those are her two favorites.

We’re in the home stretch for TDPL Chapter 4. I’ve got to finish off 4.3, but that’s it. A quick beta read for grammar and cleaning up, and it should be ready to go. Since my “sister breakfast” has turned into a “me breakfast” and I had the foresight to grab both my ipad and my earphones, I think I’ll work on that now. Not for too long, though. My sister’s work drama took up more time than I thought, and while this morning was cold (blessed low 50s), it’s gonna be hot today (high of 81°), so I need to go before that happens.

 So today’s agenda: Finish and post Chapter 4; clean litter boxes (all 3. With a good scouring and liberal application of pet sanitizer); dishes (since my sister did cook last night); ...macarons? I know better than to include it, but I’m gonna have to bake them eventually, and I won’t do sugar cookies until after I made them. Since I’ve got great Halloween cookie cutters... macarons; Strip and make bed. The pet hair is again at the point I can’t breath through my nose at night; go through summer and winter clothing and make the switch. I think tomorrow’s it for hot weather. We’re solidly in the 50s and 60s for the next two weeks and after that it’s November.

[elizabethrobertajones]

I recently came across this blog that was very anti Dean/destiel. This was apparently because Dean supposedly was "an abusive person". Particularly towards Cas. Personally, I ship it, like.. a lot, but I scrolled down and I have to say that I read some valid points on that blog. Dean really treats him like shit sometimes and like, I could in some way understand why they thought of dean/cas's relationship like that. What's your opinion on this, like, do you think of Dean as abusive towards Cas?

If it was a Cas blog, those are all valid points, and you just let that go no matter how much you might stan for Dean :P Treat it as a free exercise in being zen towards your fellow humans and not thinking shit at them. Cas stans have been through enough, I was in fandom in season 10, I remember watching that despair >.>

(On the other hand there are some people who hate every aspect of the show at this point and are just completely fatigued with caring about it and may have a “Cas deserves better” line - but also hate 99% of everything that happens on screen so much that every aspect of the show is problematic garbage, which, of course, includes Destiel being an abusive trainwreck of a ship before you get to the fans romanticising every punch they throw at each other while gobbling up the queerbaiting and so on and so on)

There are some anti blogs that talk up it being abusive and whether they actually don’t ship it for that reason or not is a lot more blurry and (you can guess by the company they seem to keep) they might have got there via just finding something to “disprove” the ship or to justify hating it. In that case, long angry posts about why it’s so terrible are pretty much loudly agreeing with each other, and maybe hoping someone who ships it will stumble on the post and be convinced their ship is bad and they should feel bad. These same people will argue the ship is homophobic and its fans are homophobic, as well as abuse apologists, racist, whatever, because making a ship out to be unethical is a great way to subtly conduct a ship war while giving yourself high ground. It’s why when stuff like the cucumber water debate blew up, they were accusing us of being homophobic and saying drinking vegetable water made you gay, as if we are the racist uncle who thinks wearing a pink shirt means you’re a “pansy” or something, and that this line of homophobic reasoning is why we think Dean is gay and that they don’t stereotype people.

And there are people who genuinely don’t like the ship whatever angle they approach it because they feel it’s abusive in the sort of way where again you just respect that it makes them feel that way because it upsets or triggers them.

I’m now sure I sound like the next thing out of my mouth is going to be “so I guess Destiel is abusive then” but it’s a big fandom and different groups of people have different versions of the story :P 

Lots of rambling about this under the cut:

When I was still fairly new to the fandom I stumbled on a Sam blog that was arguing with a great many examples of how Dean was abusive and of course sympathising with Sam in every fight and turning pretty much every interaction between them into a microaggression. I just wondered how you live like that and still watch the show? Like, if I found something so problematic I couldn’t even watch the 2 main characters who are onscreen all the time interact without getting upset every time one of the opens their mouth, I would just stop watching it. I *have* watched stuff where I then stopped watching because the characters pissed me off.

(I think this show has a secret magic formula to make you extremely over-invested in the characters to the point it’s like fictional character crack, and I may only stop writing meta for this show when I figure it out, take the secret with me, and go write a ton of novels with characters you’re similarly loyal too :P)

Anyway. There’s tons of people who don’t think Sam is abusive to Dean or Dean is abusive to Sam, and after I spent a day or so feeling really weird and uncomfortable about liking Dean so much when he was apparently awful I realised it had never affected the way I watched the show before, and that it had never troubled me about it either, because I never saw it that way. 

When *I* thought about it, I thought Sam was very resilient, loved his brother, and had his clear boundaries, such as stomping off in 7x06 when he found out about Dean killing Amy or in season 9 after discovering the Gadreel thing, setting down very clear rules with Dean about where he stood after Dean crossed the line, and that clearly to Sam, he knows his own self, and 99% of the time, he’s fine with what Dean does in the grander scheme. Maybe they have fights and Sam is upset or angry with him for a while but in general if Sam thought he was being mistreated, he’s shown he can identify that for himself and get out and look after his own interest, and return when he and Dean can reach an understanding and have grown as characters from it. (I think altogether too much debate about characters treats them as if they have never grown when we see them learn and change all the time and are quantifiably different from how they started) 

I think season 10 was the only time it crossed too far into really seeming a bit too domestic violence-y because of course Dean with the Mark of Cain had an ancient brother killing curse and Sam was still living under the same roof trying to help him, after being nearly murdered under said roof already once that year. But it was all extremely dark and fucked up for everyone, so unless I was stanning Sam, again it wouldn’t upset me any more than any other character’s messed up part in that arc, especially as Sam had his own part in being portrayed in a really negative light, and it seemed like Carver just wanted us to hate both of them at times.

Anyway by the time I ever read anyone complaining about how Destiel was abusive I’d already had to realise through thinking about that (and I read that before season 10 aired) that how we read characters and their behaviour to each other is as subjective as anything else on this show. 

If we really, deeply care about Dean, Cas can be seen as abusive - that alley scene in 5x18 put people off because Cas attacked Dean pretty much out of personal anger when he could have just knocked him out with a touch and dragged his sorry butt home, and it made Cas seem cold and cruel to Dean, that he could turn on him like that and not care. Season 6 gives no respite to make Cas seem nice again, and then he goes and breaks Sam’s wall. By 7x17 when he comes back and Dean is all teary eyed about it and has the trenchcoat still you’re like why do you even fucking care, Dean? All he’s ever done is hurt you and Sam and break the world! and Dean’s suddenly in this position where he seems strung along loving someone who has only ever hurt them and been cold to them and his investment seems greater than Cas’s. And then as the story goes on, Cas’s attempts to redeem himself and apologise come across cold and calculating or emotionally manipulative and self-serving and yikes we’ve made it halfway through Carver era and Cas hasn’t done one single thing to earn Dean’s love or to seem truly selfless about his own. (I can’t be bothered to keep strawmanning this but honestly I have seen people who hate Cas argue the latter part, and people who never started shipping Destiel argue the first half about season 5 & 6 and why it never made sense to them)

I think it’s a violent, awful show where people do violent, awful things to each other. Sam and Dean already mutually did enough shit to make it easy to argue either was abusive to the other before Cas was around (eugh, extreme Dean girls hating Sam always feels like such a betrayal but they say some shocking stuff about Sam and how much of a useless whiny leech on Dean he is >.>) and Cas showed up also angry and a creature of violence, built in their exact mould, and they all kicked off from there. 

At some point you’ve excused enough of this interpersonal violence and overblown emotional drama (which lends itself to manipulation and grand statements about betrayal or whatever) to watch the show and root for the characters and keep with them for up to 12 years and if you still LIKE the show and the characters, then you may have to consider when and how stuff would be abusive and be aware of not romanticising it, but you can still watch it and enjoy it and NOT find it abusive for your own take on it.

(I tag all discussion of Destiel crypt scene/mirrors of said scene, as “crypt scenes for ts” including gifsets that use their busted up faces in passing, for that reason, so people who find it abusive can selectively avoid it, and as a reminder to self that people see it that way and never to let myself think that these depictions of love breaking through violence are unproblematic. It’s an inherently problematic trope, and saying oh they were controlled by something else and it was romantic that they managed not to kill each other, is just too close to excusing someone who ACTUALLY hits someone and then saying, oh, but they managed to stop themselves from hurting them any more than they did and put down their fists after a while because they LOVE them. And the trope has been used 2 times with Cas and once with Dean so this isn’t saying either of them is more abusive than the other (especially as 10x22 was by far the most shocking, and, as I said about Sam, the Mark of Cain had been a domestic abuse metaphor the whole time))

But - and here’s the big but to literally everything above: if you still LIKE the characters and enjoy their relationship and it DOESN’T upset you too much to watch and you acknowledge where it can be seen as abusive but these things haven’t put you off, then there’s nothing harmful about either shipping them, OR saying you DON’T THINK THE SHIP IS ABUSIVE. And genuinely not thinking it is, overall.

I don’t, and for the same reason I explained about Dean not abusing Sam, especially that Cas still has agency and that his whole story has been about choosing the Winchesters over an INFINITELY more abusive family that HAS done all that shit to him and he’s been struggling to leave including the whole split loyalty still loving for them despite how much they hurt him thing and always being sucked back in despite how he must know by now angel stuff ALWAYS ends with him being hurt and angels dying. Picking Dean as his family over them seems a no-brainer.

For one thing, I don’t feel like there’s any malice in their day-to-day interactions, and that while Dean can be rough and rude to Cas, he doesn’t do it to exert control over him, JUST out of cruelty, or anything else abusive, just a pattern of “when Dean is sad or angry he will say insensitive and horrible things to the people around him” - because he’s human and messed up and angry/miserable (pick your week) and doesn’t think he even deserves their love half the time when he’s really trying to drive people off (his side of 5x18 :P). Your reaction to this pattern might depend on how you’ve been treated in the past and if it rings unfortunately too close to actual abuse to you, but without that trigger I think it is not impossible to read it as not aimed to control or emotionally manipulate the people around him, but normal expressions of emotion, with no intent to harm, and if you read the reactions of the people around him, no lasting damage to them as if his actions were abusive (e.g. Sam doesn’t get flinchy when Dean drinks or gets angry, as if emulating someone raised by a violent drunk; Cas doesn’t react when Dean yells at him but unless he’s in a very bad place for other reasons, gives shit right back to Dean and stands up for himself)

For another, Dean against Sam with the Mark was 100x worse than he ever was to Cas. 9x22 at the end showed a huge difference in how he treated them, and I don’t think that was putting on a nice face for Cas - I think that was meant to convey the Mark twisting Dean up AGAINST Sam and showing that he’d been poisoned against him, but it hadn’t affected how Dean felt about Cas, because he is not his brother, and the curse therefore doesn’t affect them. In the end he did attack Cas, and it’s their absolute low point, but it took a season and a half to hollow Dean out that far, as part of an episode showing in every way that we’d lost all parts of Dean that were good, while Dean took like 15 episodes from Mark of Cain to chasing Sam with a hammer. (And, of course, demon!Dean still retained parts of what made Dean good, making him at least complex, though obviously not “good” any more - Dean in 10x22 was genuinely more evil, empty and broken than when he was a demon, to compare Dean choosing to kill the kid with Dean selectively choosing to kill Lester because he thought his wife didn’t deserve it, never mind all his angsty moping and still deciding what he was and so on, suggesting he was struggling to let go of those last human parts.) Anyway, I didn’t think Dean had any sustained aggression against Cas and the arc was way more about a threat to Sam from Dean - as late as 10x20 Dean was still retaining his humanity and struggling to help Cas and do nice things on his behalf and play cute with Claire, while the season in general kept Cas away from Dean and I think that was a good idea in hindsight, because it both facilitated Dean’s descent (Cas keeps him on the level) and meant Cas didn’t have to take the brunt of Dean’s Mark-related dickishness. Aka, avoiding including Cas properly in any sort of sustained domestic abuse arc with Dean. In 10x18 they play happy families with Charlie, and it’s a fleeting GOOD thing with nice family dynamics. 10x21 laid it on thick that Sam was alone with someone who could swing around to violence and made it clear it was a domestic abuse metaphor between them. (Which, again, in Dean’s defence for THIS relationship, was a metaphor for one season, and I don’t think reflective on how he treats Sam normally, at all.)

As for Dean’s general behaviour, you have to forgive incident by incident on the assumption that Dean isn’t holding up a sustained campaign of abuse against Cas, but considers him an equal but who he often has GENUINE grievances against (and also that Cas is not a woobie and can take it - we may see him hurt a lot but he remains resilient). In season 6, Cas is shifty and won’t come to help them - you could argue Dean’s feeling entitled to that, but he’s upset because Cas is supposed to be a friend and his responses are underwhelming, and, importantly, Dean doesn’t feel like Cas is sharing when he WANTS to help. Dean can tell something’s up but Cas won’t even get into a real conversation with it, and wouldn’t have let Dean help anyway. So he’s pissed off at the start and gets MORE pissed off along the season, so he snaps at Cas and wheedles him to come help not because he feels like Cas is only good to help, but he’s fed up with Cas not coming, being weird, and being unhelpful, when they’re SUPPOSED to be friends. 

I don’t even know how to explain how Dean acts towards Cas in season 7 if someone doesn’t get that the repercussions of Cas breaking Sam’s wall aren’t still clear in Dean’s mind, and he can’t talk to Cas about it because he’s never quite himself and ready to have the talk about these consequences. (I mean he sort of can at the end of the season but they’re aggressively not listening to each other even while trying to communicate) When Dean snaps at Cas, he’s frustrated, and angry and missing his friend, and upset on Sam’s behalf and it’s a mess, he’s not just yelling “no one cares that you’re broken” because he wants to hurt Cas. HE cares. He’s so fucked up about it that the entire end of the season rests on him reconciling with Cas, and so they need to show him unable to do that first… There’s more to it than just collecting a moment of Dean yelling at Cas or that bit where he throws the board game on the floor despite how it looks. They’re in the middle of the fight and Cas has as much of his part of it as Dean does, though he’s in a vulnerable state and Dean’s approaching him with anger, Cas knows Dean’s the injured party - this is the arc that starts with “I’ll find some way to redeem myself to you” - and it’s totally fucked up but this is how it plays out with Dean’s reactions to Cas’s avoidance and consuming guilt that won’t even let him face the problem head on until the very last moment. Dean approaches Cas gently, Cas finally makes a gesture to help and in this way their last conversation when they go collect Baby puts them back on EQUAL footing. And before that they were unequal but from both directions - Cas was broken/had no memory, but also Cas had the burden to make it right with Dean and he wasn’t making that move. He fixes Sam, which is the huge important step one, but after that he is “only playing sorry” and the argument goes BOTH ways with the need to reconcile, which means all the pissiness is fair game, NOT Dean being cruel to Cas and kicking him while he’s down…

I suppose I could keep on rationalising stuff they do forever but these are the examples I see the most when reading about it, and I just don’t feel in MY interpretation of it, that Dean has ANY cruelty to Cas, or even a sustained threat to him. That’s not to minimise that Cas took a LOT of beatings over recent times and ended up feeling depressed and alone and with PTSD and so on, but I read this as a carelessness that Dean desperately would not want to inflict on Cas if he knew and understood (and therefore could have reached out to him properly), and that at every opportunity when he even partially understands he reaches out and cares for Cas (like 8x08 and “talk to me” or many of the less dramatic heart to hearts where he tries to understand Cas or to reassure or comfort him about stuff, as well as generally attempting to apologise - I think he apologises 3 times for kicking Cas out the Bunker, though he can only truly repent after telling the whole truth, it ate him up and he WANTED it to not be this way and felt it was out of his control because from the last scene of 9x01 when Gadreel suddenly declares Sam can’t know, Dean immediately loses any control he thought he had over what happens next)…

Anyway, people are ALWAYS going to have opinions or still ship it but think some of my arguments don’t work and some of these examples were abusive but it won’t stop them shipping based on a more ideal version of the relationship, even divorcing from canon altogether and shipping the AU perfect version of the ship where it can always be happy and they never have the issues they do in canon. Some people will ship it because they LIKE that element of it, for one reason or another, and there will be people who write fic embracing really dark elements. 

When it comes to reading what others have to say about ANYTHING you like, you have to decide for yourself how much it affects how you see it, and you have to remember people are coming at everything with their personal biases and feelings. You CAN argue Destiel is abusive - you can probably argue most ships are, especially ones with canon interaction, and especially LOTS of canon interaction because tropes like lying and manipulation (even gentle lies and manipulation) are rife in fiction. Writers make characters fight for drama, and once they do, someone’s going to find supporting the characters together is inherently problematic and awful. 

If you make it this far in canon and HAVEN’T found the ship abusive in YOUR reading of it and based on YOUR emotional reactions to everything that happened on screen so far, then you are probably safe to keep shipping it at least on YOUR terms. 

However, I would listen to what people say and make up your own mind just because if they’re bringing up things that are genuinely unsettling, you should probably work out if you support that or not, and if you ship at a safe remove (e.g. “the crypt scene etc were abusive and I don’t like it but generally I find the ship okay and they’ve made attempts to mend that and aren’t continuing in that behaviour so I can still ship them in canon but don’t want to see anything romanticising the bad bits” or “I find the things they’ve done in canon unsettling enough I would rather ship them in fanon and try to enjoy what they do in canon just for the good bits like when they hold hands” or whatever). As long as you are respectful to other people and understand WHY they see things the way they do, and don’t try and tell people who are genuinely hurt that things AREN’T hurtful. 

(I’m not saying you would, but there are arguments in fandom I really don’t think we should be having as arguments, and this is one of them :P)