#from start to finish of origins he is a dumpster of a human being

[lilithfairen]

So I just saw the funniest shit, and that's someone declaring Loghain Mac Tir from Dragon Age: Origins to be "the most morally grey character in the DA series" in an idiotic rant against Veilguard (which I won't reblog because it contains vague and blatantly-misrepresented spoilers in it).

And this is funny because there is absolutely no fucking universe in which you can say that Loghain Mac Tir is "morally grey" without showing what an utter piece of garbage you yourself are. Loghain Mac Tir in Origins is an utterly vile person. He betrays his liege, his allies, and his army, directly causing the deaths of numerous soldiers under his command and countless deaths across Ferelden at the hands of the Fifth Blight. He seizes power for himself and hunts down those he frames for his actions. He allies with and by extension enables numerous individuals who perform vile, amoral actions in their own right. His motivation for doing all of this? His own narcissism and his xenophobia towards people who were fighting a mutual threat alongside his country.

And the best part about this particular screed?

He tried to do right in his own way, but he failed and made a terrible mistake which he realises in the end, and he accepts the players judgement to be executed or to join the Wardens.

No he fucking doesn't. He is defiant to the end, and only submits when he is fully aware that he has been utterly defeated—politically and in direct combat. The only way in which he grows into a decent person is through the player forcing him to join the Grey Warden and giving him years to realize what a colossal fuck-up he was.

But hey, he's a white man who does shitty things because he believes they're necessary. No matter how wrong he is, that still makes him sympathetic in the eyes of pathetic people who think a white male character is entitled to all the power and privilege he thinks he deserves, no matter how many lives he destroys in the process of his own vanity and head-up-assery. Doubly so if those people are the sort whose lives don't matter to the kind of losers who stan such characters.

[seventhdoctor]

OKAY SO @linkspooky GAVE ME YUBEL FOR THE YUGIOH ASK MEME AND TUMBLR ATE BOTH MY DRAFT ANSWER AND THE ORIGINAL ASK. Take my word for it that they chose violence and asked me about one of our mutual brainrot characters and now here's my boi [gender neutral].

Why I like them/why I don’t

Yubel is only my single favorite character in the entire Yugioh franchise. Y'know.

I'm saving everyone's dashes this time with a readmore.

Here's a list of some of my favorite tropes:

Partner relationships, of all kinds. Buddy cops, spirit buddies, two guys who share the same goal/path, whatever Isaac and Miria from Baccano count as, just two people Who Click. Bonus points if they're fucked up in complementary ways

Guardian/protector character types, as a subset of the above

Reincarnation, and exploration of different lives

Yubel originally just hit one of these points and they still hooked me. Then episode 155 hit and slapped me in the face with the other two points. This character...it was made for me!

Really, I've been interested in Yubel since episode 106 first aired and they were just an eye with implied connection to Judai's backstory. I didn't know WTF the eye was, just that it was super haunting him.

Then it came out that they were Judai's childhood spirit partner, but in a twisted way: they held affection for him that he obviously didn't return, and I was fascinated by that in a "this is unhealthy and fucked up but what if something about their connection was still undeniable." I have the dubious honor of being one of the first people to write Yubel fic back in 2007, before the season even finished. (It was essentially just writing out their known backstory at the time into a short narrative, but yeah I sure did that.)

I was resigned to living in the trash dumpster with my terrible taste in a guilty pleasure ship* when GX episode 155 aired and added a whole new dimension to Yubel. And, well - they were still fucked up, but now there was so much more material to work with. Also my messed-up ship being kinda validated by canon was not on my list of S3 finale expectations, but boy did I feel vindicated!

I drifted away from GX for multiple reasons in 2009 but slammed back into it in 2023 when, IDK, one day after the worst week of the worst two months of my entire life I started thinking about GX again and tripped down a rabbit hole thinking about my old ship again. And both being an adult and also needing a coping mechanism for a rock-bottom period, I dove straight into my old bullshit and embraced my love for this trashfire problematic dragon.

And there's so much to chew on where this dragon is concerned. Even as a kid I was like "past Judai and Yubel must have failed to defeat the Light of Destruction and died tragically in their past lives, which is why they reincarnated to the present and probably why Yubel was attacking people in present Judai's childhood." And in retrospect the Light of Destruction is probably a force you can't ever totally get rid of, but I stand by the rest of it.

Yubel's dialogue in their duel with Amon in episodes 149-150 just hints at things, but the way they talk about a world where you've achieved your goal but nobody is there to celebrate with you? Their very pointed rant about worlds and how being together with the one you love is better than the empty promises of a king? Canon doesn't give the details about what happened in their past lives, but there is ABSOLUTELY something there.

Not to mention what kind of person you have to be for the king to take you out, tell you an old tale about the light and darkness and an opportunity to give up your humanity to protect your friend...and for you to accept instantly, without thinking twice or even talking to said friend.

(When I started Need I intentionally gave Yubel a large family because it's one thing to take that kind of offer when you have nobody but your one person who would miss you - but it says so much more when you have an established life and people and you still give it all up without a thought.)

Anyway. Yubel was a messed-up guy before the Dragoning and boy are they messed up after! And that's before Judai accidentally gets them tortured into insanity!

And just...Yubel did a lot of wrong, on purpose, with and without the Light of Destruction influencing them. But with everything they went through you can also understand how they got to where they are and how they got to doing what they did. That doesn't make them any more right, but it does make them compelling to study. And boy are they fun to study.

* In the year 2k24 I realize I could have done a lot worse but I was a kid back in 2007. My idea of dark content was Phantom of the Opera. Give kid me a break.

What I like about their appearance

Yubel looks soooooo cool. The asymmetry of their design, and the alchemical symbolism of their body's male-female split? The eyes on their knees like knight's armor? Their thorn-armor-maybe-clothing, in conjunction with their plant theme? Love it all. Probably a nightmare to draw, admittedly.

But honestly, my favorite thing is how they're voiced. Giving them a man and and a woman's voice works really well for their design, and the way they flow between voices…

I love listening to Yubel dialogue like this. When I write Yubel in fic I imagine them switching voices a lot based on their whims, and I wish I could convey that more often without it sounding clunky.

Do I prefer their dub names or original name?

No major difference for Yubel the character.

Their cards, though, and specifically their evolved forms? Loving Defender is the only localized name I accept :V I know Das Abscheulich Ritter and Das Extremer Traurig Drachen are butchered German but they're still interesting.

Yubel -> Yubel the Abominable Knight -> Yubel the Extremely Sorrowful Dragon tells a story. I've written before about how I think GX hints Yubel and Judai's past lives didn't end happily and this is part of why! (On top of a lot of really interesting lines from their duel with Amon, which I go crazy thinking about.) But aside from that, it tells you about their character even at face value: Yubel is a knight, so they fight for a cause, but they're also a horrible creature currently trying to destroy the world and ruin the protag's life. Yubel has experienced tragedy, and whether they're sympathetic or not that's a defining part of them. They're a monster with history.

Yubel -> Yubel Terror Incarnate -> Yubel the Ultimate Nightmare just doesn't have the same richness to it. Oooo, Yubel is scary. It says nothing to me. Half the time I can't even remember which name applies to which stage.

And now with the new Yubel support, Yubel the Eternal Love Guardian/Loving Defender Forever is pretty good on both sides - but it still works better as a capstone to the tragedies of the Japanese names.

OTP

Judai/Yubel, obviously. :D Romantic or platonic. I've written both (some is unpublished/WIP) and enjoy reading both.

Just. Judai and Yubel, man. How about that Yu gi oh G X season 3. Neither of them is fully in the right, and neither is fully in the wrong. There's such a complex tangled history between them, complicated by things that were the fault of one party or the other and things that were neither's fault but made everything that much worse. Judai's choice to ensure they'll always be together, that they'll bear the pain and guilt and everything else with each other...it kills me. It really kills me.

And I think there's a lot to plumb with the reincarnation angle to this relationship: how much continuity do you think there is between the prince of the past and Judai Yuki in the present? What is the nature of the love Judai Yuki feels towards Yubel? What kind of love does Yubel feel for Judai, once they're healed of the Light? What does knowing about Yubel's sacrifice in a past life change? What does growing up and taking responsibility mean for each of them? With the history between them (in Judai's childhood and in the present) and their current status as a fusion, what relationship can they even have?

There's all kinds of different answers depending on your interpretation. I don't even subscribe to a single interpretation myself, and I think it's fun to poke at these questions from different angles. And that's what fanfic is for, baybee!

NOTP

I don't know what Yubel ships there are besides Judai/Yubel and Judai/Yubel/Johan. Which are both good. Yubel is A Fucker and brings that to any relationship, but then that kind of factors into the equation by default when considering ships anyway.

OT3

Judai/Yubel/Johan. As Jay puts it, it's Judai with his partners of the past and present - and there's a lot of room to explore with the Yubel/Johan dynamic.

That said, the fanfic that helped me get through the worst period of my life was Manjoume/Judai with sides of "and WTFever Judai and Yubel have going on" and "well dating Judai means I'm also kinda dating Yubel but oh my god why are they like this" so I'm pretty partial to that now too.

Favourite card they use

It's not the most iconic form of Yubel's, but the moment when Judai finally gets rid of Yubel on the field only for Yubel to dramatically announce "Das. Abscheulich. Ritter." and reveal they're a multi-stage boss monster from a dissipating cloud of smoke? A literal "You fool, this isn't even my final form"? Lives in my brain forever. Basically cheered when I got to the moment rewatching GX last year.

And see above re: the name telling a story, and how it implicitly adds to Yubel's characterization.

Favourite moment they were in

Yubel's monologue to Amon about "You never loved Echo, or rather you loved her just enough to be able to sacrifice her to Exodia for power."

This duel just tells you so much about Yubel, and invites further questions (what was that about kings, Yubel?). But the emphasis of the reciprocality of inflicting pain and the laughing-to-crying moment of "Judai hurt me, now I'm hurting him, surely this must be what love is" as Yubel downs another bottle of copium...mmm. Goddamn that's the good stuff.

Also Yubel dunks on Amon a bunch and I always support dunking on Amon.

Least favourite moment

IDK, maybe that bit in the desert arc where they fused two kids with monsters just to provide enemies of the week to stall with? It's interesting as a preview for Yubel's nature and the season finale, but also it felt like an otherwise whatever part of their whole plan.

[banefultyrant]

I was going to wait on this and another post until I had his carrd completely finished, but here we go.

Enver Gortash & Morality // @banefultyrant

So this has been prematurely kicked off by this post stating, "Tragic backstory explains behavior but does not excuse it."

This is so true, and especially in regards to this disaster dumpster fire of a human being. Because he isn't just a dumpster fire. He's this level of dumpster fire:

Now, to my point.

Enver Gortash—as he will absolutely refuse to acknowledge his original name because of everything tied up in it—has been through a lot. Though I can't remember if it was ever openly stated, I would absolutely agree with general fandom consensus that his mother abused him. I saw a post floating around the other day about the difference between how his parents are treated in game, and I couldn't agree more. [ If I can track the post down again, I'll link it here as well. ]

He was, seemingly at a young age, then sold to a warlock because his parents couldn't settle their debts the right way. Whether his mother is telling the truth or not, she claims she either sold him or they forfeit all of their lives over the shop debt. [ Also, who in the hell were they in debt to that their lives were at risk because of their debt??? Was it actually debt from the shop, or from drinking or gambling? Or did they take a loan from Dangerous People to keep their shop running??? ]

From there, he then ended up at the House of Hope, where he was canonically tormented and tortured by Nubaldin simply because he was 'mischievous' and because Nubaldin found it entertaining.

"I used to work in the prison, ensuring no desirable people left the House of Hope. Now, I guard the portals to ensure that no undesirable people enter." [ Why don't you work at the prison anymore? ] "I made a mistake. Raphael doesn't tolerate mistakes. We had one houseguest by the name of Gortash, a mischievous little blot of a boy, and he slipped through my fingers." [ Gortash was here? Lord Enver Gortash? ] "Lord? Is that what he calls himself these days? The sniveling little shit. He was the son of a cobbler or somesuch meagre tradesman, sold to Raphael by his loving parents to pay off their petty debt. Lord indeed. I used to bruise my knuckles on his whimpering little face. I'd like to have snapped his neck."

So he escapes that literal hell because he just can't take it anymore. He winds up on his own, with nothing but his cleverness and his drive to never be at anyone's mercy ever again.

[ A lot more below the cut. ]

Now, his mother claims he was evil from the start, but I've not once seen any dialogue options that support that. She says he was always making a racket. She says he was too clever. But she never offers anything even remotely adjacent to explain her claim that he was evil out the gate.

[ Perhaps because she was and she simply didn't care for a clever little boy asking questions, pointing out when she was being unreasonable, or saying that he didn't understand why he was being punished when he did something that he's done a thousand times before and she never said anything then, et cetera. Abusers can never have the problem. The other person has to be the problem. The villain. The complication. The scapegoat. There's something wrong with the other person and that's why they are perfectly justified in doing what they do. ]

Regardless, you have a young boy sold to a warlock and placed in the House of Hope, and was apparently a 'desirable person' based on the fact that Nubaldin was in charge of making sure none of those left and when Gortash escaped, Raphael considered it a failure.

[ Considering how foresighted Raphael is in terms of potential, it makes perfect sense to me that he might even have witnessed how clever the boy was once, perhaps he had even stopped by to make clear to his parents that their debt was owed and he would see it paid, one way or the other. Perhaps he saw how Enver was treated and found it contemptuous that such people should be able to waste so clever a mind. Or, perhaps the warlock had done so on his behalf and relayed such information to Raphael who then had them to pass along that he would accept the boy as payment.

Now, though I won't project my thoughts onto anyone else's Raphael, as for my own over at @thishouseofhope , while people claim that 'Raphael loves only himself' coughcoughHaarlepcoughcough, that isn't true. Or, at least, not entirely.

I think Raphael has a hard time connecting with others enough to care anything about them in actuality, yes. But I think where that starts to falter is in cases where he sees a bit of himself or his own situation reflected back at him. Would he admit that? No. But he sees it all the same, recognizes the similarities even if only subconsciously. And though I haven't gone into much detail with Raphael's early years over there yet, suffice it to say a brilliant, clever mind stifled by and suffering under the shortsightedness, derision, and abuse of a parental figure? It would definitely strike a nerve, whether he intended or not, whether he acknowledged it or not. HINT: He most certainly would not. ]

Within my own canon, this meant Raphael saw Enver and saw something of himself reflected in the boy and his situation, and, as such, there was a certain amount of fondness for him, particularly with the potential he could see for the boy's future with so sharp a mind. In a verse with my friend on discord who writes Enver, that included Raphael taking him on as a protege. Had it not been for Nubaldin's pointless cruelty, I have little doubt that Enver might have come to enjoy his time at the House of Hope, as Raphael would always provided new things for him to learn both of practical and educational import, and Enver, who was clever to start, would have jumped at the chance to learn anything and everything he could, particularly if Raphael caught onto his interest in mechanics. No doubt Nubaldin said that the boy simply escaped, otherwise, had Raphael realized the cause, I don't know that Nubaldin would have survived to tell the tale. ]

But, as always, because I can't help myself, I digress.

We have a young boy with promise and potential who ran because he was being abused again and was terrified of remaining where he was, who refused to be at the mercy of anyone else ever again and set his mind on making certain that it never would happen again.

At some point, he throws in his lot with Bane. He starts to accumulate wealth and power and influence through whatever means. His mind, his body, his blood and sweat [ but never tears, because he won't cry anymore, won't show that weakness ]. He will do whatever it takes to ensure that no one can ever harm him again, that no one has the power to do so. And how does one do that?

You make certain that you are the most powerful. Powerful enough that no one can touch you.

Free will, is the problem. That becomes evident to him shortly into his worship of Bane. No matter how many laws and rules and punishments exist, there will always be people who still choose to suffer them—because they could, because it was worth it, because they didn't care, because they didn't think they would be caught, et cetera. So long as free will might exist, then you would continue to have thieves and drunks and debtors and murderers and abusers.

So eventually, this plot of the Absolute is developed and! my! doesn't it solve it all! Not only does it set him in a place of power where nobody could touch him, it also solves all of those other pesky problems because there will be no more free will, only the will of the Absolute relayed to all of its subservients.

"A new age is upon us. Gods have mercy upon those who would stand in our way… I want to lead this city to glory — not scorch its earth."

When the player character approaches, Tav or Dark Urge, he talks about wanting to lead the city into an age of prosperity and safety, etc. And he isn't lying. He means every word.

Because, in his mind, this is the only way to reach that outcome. Does he want power? Yes, because, much as you hear the themes with Astarion's companion quest line: Power means safety. Power means no one can hurt you. Power means that you dictate the lives of others, rather than having your life dictated to you. To paraphrase, when the player character tells Astarion that those with power have a duty to protect those without, Astarion roughly responds, "People with power had 200 years to save me from Cazador, and no one ever did. No, it was the Mindflayers who freed me."

In all honesty, it's much the same for Gortash, except he was at an even greater disadvantage than Astarion in one respect—unless more information comes out about Astarion's past later—and that is this:

Enver Gortash has never known anything else. There is nothing before his abuse, before his servitude and continued abuse, before he set out into the world at a young age and suffered its cruelty on his own.

It is all that he has ever known.

But!

He sells Karlach to Zariel! Yes, just as he was sold, and yet, even still, this is done not out of malice or cruelty, but with the belief that he thought he was doing what was best for her. If she remained on the streets, she would either be jailed or dead in a few years, and she deserved better than that. Being sold to a devil was what set him on his 'right' path, made him who he is, so maybe that's what Karlach needed also? And, knowing her as he did, he truly had no doubt that she could be running the place in no time. She would have power enough to protect herself, just as he intended to claim for himself at the Gate, and it would mean they could be allies. He set a piece in the right place and if she would just do as she ought to have done, she could be doing so much better for herself — just as he has.

He was going to kill the refugee children! In his mind, most of them miserable little orphans with no prospects beyond pain and suffering. It would be a mercy to them, truly, and—as my friend, Shadow, mentioned in one of our discussions about Gortash's thoughts on this—their deaths would at least mean something in the grand scheme, rather than their bodies simply being stepped over and promptly forgotten. Their deaths would sow discord between the refugees and the citizens of the Gate, further unite those within against those without and solidify his position as a protector. With any luck, the refugees would attack in retaliation and affirm the citizens fears that they were followers of the Absolute threat after all. And regardless of how it went, it would create further chaos that he would be able to bring to Order.

This is NOT to say that his behavior should be excused.

However, much in the same way and for the same reason that I would defend Minthara and Nere both, I can fully understand his thought process, why he does what he does, though I certainly don't agree with it. Just as with them, I would question the level of accountability one can be held to when one knows no different. I would very much, in some ways, say that Gortash is nearer to having had a Lolth-sworn drow upbringing than a typical human one. His entire understanding of the world is through abuse, violence, betrayal, and transactional interactions. His solution—the Absolute religious hoax—is one that makes perfect sense within those bounds. It's logical, nice and neat. A brilliant plan, cutting the problems that plague the city—and, indeed, the world—off right at the source.

There won't be anymore murders in the streets. There won't be anymore pickpockets or petty crime. There won't be anymore gambling dens. There won't be anymore children abused or sold to settle debts. There won't be anymore crime, period.

The populace can put all of its effort and energy into making the city more unified and prosperous than it ever has been —

Because that is the only choice they have left to them.

[ Doesn't that sound familiar? "She is, of course, free to choose the only option she has left." ]

In his mind, how brilliant and elegant an answer to those pesky problems that no amount of laws or punishments have ever stopped! A villain? No! He's the savior who will deliver this city to a new age! A great age!

[ And doesn't that sound familiar, too? ]

In the words of Jason Isaacs himself, "It was a thrill to join the Baldur's Gate universe, but I fear that the magnificent Lord Enver Gortash is being mischaracterized as a villain. In a brutal world of betrayals and butchery, he's learned to lie better and backstab first. The joy in voicing him — apart from the obvious pleasure in getting to look so glorious — was that the creative team and I got to play loose enough to find ways that he could enjoy the ride and make the players hate him more!"

Enver Gortash has done terrible and unforgivable things, much as with most of the cast in the game, companions or otherwise…. but the whys. The whys are important, and the whys are what not only further show the depth of the character… but also provide interesting possibilities for futures wherein he escapes his fate in the game.

[chimkin-samich]

what's the story behind your sun/moon and y/n? the daycare attendant looks so fancy! I like them.

Y/n is honestly just my wife, mod Feral, self insert lol, she started obsessing over the boys and then got me into when she told me more about them

I got in further when I started relating a lot to them so i guess it’s a bit of kin thing for me lol

For our version however getting more into details, all 3 boys are here Sun, Moon and Eclipse but he comes in later, we redesigned them and explained it as they were dragged into Parts and Service and forced to be upgraded

Putting more details under a read more so as to not make a super long text post lol

I’m also going to reblog the blue prints that my wife posted on her profile so you can see a bit of what we had in mind for them mechanically wise at least

Over all upgrades

-They are over able to feel all over, essentially their body sensitivity is that of a humans, they can feel touch, and by default pain

-their endoskeleton from the torso down was scrapped and replaced with a more durable and lighter material, while the torso and arms had extra implants to make them sturdier and more flexible

-can emote with their faces so their not static

-their eyes are animated as well so no more blank stares from either of them

-special upgrade for uh… “stress relief”

Suns upgrades

-his rays are more durable

-he’s able to recharge through solar with his rays now but of course depending on the light level is how fast he charges (direct sunlight can finish a charge in about 4hrs)

-given sharp canines as a sort of defense if needed

-a teeth plate that can retract since management still wants them to lock their smile when children are present

Moons upgrades

-Can emp electronics to recharge, not super efficient but can get him enough charge to get to his cable with out dying on the spot lol

-infrared eyes to spot both children and intruders in the dark

-claws are now retractable but he tends to have them out when children are asleep or not present as a comfort of sorts

-was also given sharp teeth but every single one of his teeth are sharp kinda like shark teeth to use as offense against intruders

————————————

Eclipse was more or less left alone more so because they didn’t think he would resurface after splitting his AI to make Sun and Moon but over time he slowly rebuilt himself and also takes pieces of Sun and Moon to be able to front so it was a big surprise when he just popped out.

It’s also why they have four arms since the original endoskeleton was supposed to but they just merged the arms together when they split eclipse into sun and moon

As for our self-insert, She’s Italian and left to come to the US to kinda distance herself from her family to make her own life

She ends up joining the Plex since they had pretty good wages and benefits expecting to just be a security guard, but things are so chaotic in the Plex that she ends up being a mixture of a handler for the boys, a daycare helper and daycare security all in one

Considering she keeps the boys happy and Moon from starting fights with Monty and causing over all mayhem and property damage, they slowly give her more and more “perks” that she practically has free range of the Plex, especially after an occasion where they tried to fire her and it was just a dumpster fire with dealing with the boys (Suns depressed behavior and Moon becoming more destructive than before)

But don’t worry the boys and all the other animatronics get a happy ending…. At some point

[ghostgirlgeist]

ʇ s ı ǝ ɓ s ı l l ʎ ɥ d

phyllis geist is based on phantasma from scooby-doo and the ghoul school. she is a 23 year old ghost, librarian, and uses she/her pronouns. she has the power of head spinning, invisibility, psychokinesis and floating.  

penned by HARPER　

reflection

face claim: madelyn cline sexuality: bicurious height: 5'4 eye color: blue hair color: blonde piercings: n/a tattoos: n/a

attitude

positive traits: bold, chatterbox, always laughing, quirky, extroverted, spontaneous, social butterfly, whimsical negative traits: morbid, oversensitive, inhibited, uncommunicative, struggles to accept her phantom-hood, assumes the grass is greener on the other side likes: crystals, reading fantasy novels, her ghoul friends, the color blue, small animals, late night fly-sessions, spooking humans, music in all forms, scary movies, big sweaters, dead flowers, thunderstorms, tarot cards dislikes: people being afraid of her when she ISN'T trying to scare them, finding clothes, the dark, the calloway cadettes, phobias: n/a hobbies: visiting the funeral parlor, hanging out with her ghoul friends, hiding in the library to read after hours, leaving little trinkets and 'haunts' for her friends to find, composing music, watching dogs in the park and wishing she could pet them, hacking the arcade machines at pizza planet. aesthetic: the smell of drying flowers, goosebumps rising on your skin, the feeling of silk, laughter that echoes in an empty hallway, the sound of an orchestra swelling in volume, the feeling of a soft sweater, the smell of incense, the glow of the moon at night, the sound of creaking floorboards when you're home alone.

relations

mother: a human, name and origins unknown. father:  the phantom sibling(s): n/a pet(s): boo ( a grey kitten )

headcanons

† the small shiver you get when you think you’re all alone, but you can just tell there is someone else in the room with you. † phyllis is all too familiar with stinging cheeks that have been drawn up for too long due to being unable to stop smiling. she loves smiling. she smiles every morning in the mirror (even though she can't see herself in it ) to ensure she starts her day off on a positive note.  † she often gets really, really loud- ESPECIALLY when she is talking about something she is passionate or excited about- part of it unintentional, part of it to subconsciously make up for the space she can’t physically take up. † big chunky sweaters with embroidered sleeves and the initials P.G. hand-stitched into the hem with thick, white yarn. † she found a small kitten that had been left to pass and named him ‘boo’ due to the spook he gave her when she came across him by a dumpster. she always knew animals had spirits, too. † the sound of an organ playing frighteningly morbid and borderline-depressing music, but each song accompanied by a bright, cheerful and effervescent “oh my god, YES!” after they finish. † sharpie tattoos, wild hairdos, and obnoxiously large white boots that are always pristine because they never actually touch the ground. † phyllis couldn’t count on both hands the amounts of times her boss thought she had flaked on a shift… when she was actually right there, buried in a book with such intense focus she hadn’t even noticed she had gone transparent. † using tarot card readings as a love language accompanied by the littering of shelves in her friends homes with little crystals and spiritual memorabilia; “you gotta keep your vibes up!” † getting super offended by people thinking they need a ouiji board to talk to her and persistently insisting that they’re just a way ghosts play pranks on living people. † phyllis always wondered what life would have been like if she had gotten to experience it... well, alive. it's hard living in a world that you are tethered too but can't completely interact with. it's hard on her, but she's trying her best to manage. a feat easier said than done.

[angy-robo-bot]

New OC. Here's Zooms. He's a vehicle bot ( totally not a bootleg transformer) based on a Honda Ruckus scooter.

Well, this little robot's existence was because of a cost cutting measure by the military to use existing things to make battle robots. The reason that the military had to cut costs was because the combat robot they dumped all of their money on decided that she didn't want to be used as a weapon and escaped.

About Zooms origin

Ernist Howel and Johan Wright were two rookie engineers working for the Tippmann Robotics Company. Wanting to prove themselves so that they could get clearance to make a Vehicle Bot decided to make an unauthorized Bot made from an abandoned Honda Ruckus, spare robotics parts, and scrap armor. As they built the little bot, hiding him in the 12th floor shop for when they had to leave. When the bot's rudimentary ai was uploaded, Zooms opened his eyes and attempted to introduce himself. What came out was a garbled mess of static, skipping, and words so distorted they sounded like an alien language. The reason for this, the two young engineers found a synthetic voice module in a dumpster. The speech synthesizer was faulty with water damage. Determined to make their little project work, they disregarded the glitchy voice and continued their tests. Ernist, with clipboard in hand initiated Zooms's movement test, when the little guy successfully completed the test, Ernist, and Johan, overjoyed with Zooms's performance inadvertently tested the little bot' s reaction to positive reinforcement. As the two engineers praised the bot Zooms started to jitter in place. As the praise grew the bots jittering morphed into a full on dance. Zooms, happy that he made his creators smile happily shook his hips while happy noises emitted from his sad excuse for a voice. When Zooms finished his dance he looked at his makers, gave an early clear laugh, and like his name implied, he sped off from his resting spot and zoomed around the shop. There was only one problem, Zooms was speeding towards a shattered window and zooms looked into the two engineers faces. When they realized what was happening their smiles soon morphed into looks of panic as they tried to stop their creation from accidentally recreating the ending from Thelma and Louise. They pointed at the window and shouted for Zooms to slow down. Zooms, only saw them point towards where he was going.

When Zooms looked forward it was too late, what Ernist witnessed had the makings of a tragedy. When Zooms collided with the window, glass flew everywhere as Zooms became a yellow blur falling head first down a 12 storie drop. As Zooms he fell he screamed and flailed his arms in panic. Smashing into the ground with a commanding thud. Ernist and Johan raced down the stairs so that they could see what was salvageable. When they got there however Zooms had gotten up and looked up at the window, trying to piece together how he went from being inside the building 12 stories up to being outside on ground level with a killer headache. Something wasn't right Johan thought as he called out to the dazed Zooms. Shockingly, Zooms turned to Johan, rolled over to him and opened his arms. When Johan kneeled down to Zooms's height, as the robot shivered he squeezed the human tight and cried. Through Glitchy Sobs Johan made out two words emanating from the robot. "*i'm scared*" he repeated. The somber moment became worse as the engineers boss, Mr. Chumbo turned the corner and saw two rookie engineers trespassing with an unauthorized robot seemingly of their creation. Mr. Chumbo, angrily speed walked towards the engineers while berating them for building a possibly dangerous robot. When Mr. Chumbo got close enough to hear the robots scared sobs thankfully realized that this bot wasn't going to be too dangerous. The Boss pulled aside Ernist and explained what was going to happen. He explained that Zooms would be taken to be evaluated by professional engineers and Ernist and Johan would be written up, but they got to keep their jobs.

[ficnation]

Chapter 2: Not Alone Anymore

Series: Way Down We Go // Season 1

Word count: 4,1k+

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Female! Reader; Shane Walsh x Reader

Warnings: usual twd themes (e.g. descriptive gore, death, use of weapons, violence, cursing)

A/n: Finally, after months of not writing anything at all, I finished this chapter. Sorry for any mistakes I've made. Lots of love, and please let me know in the comments what you think <3

*my own aesthetic* // *twd universe doesn’t belong to me, but the original characters do*

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

You were sitting on the bed beside a closed window of the small trailer that immensely reminded you of your fucked up childhood. The cigarette between your fingers did nothing to cease your anxiety and the guilt bubbling in your stomach. You exhaled deeply, letting the smoke swirl out of your system and create a foggy cloud above your head. A hand slid down the window made of thick plastic that was supposed to imitate glass, and you didn’t even flinch at the annoying squeak and hungry groans of the undead.

“Oh fuck you, Angela, you’ve always been a cunt. No wonder you’re haunting me even after your death.” You scoffed at the older woman, turning around and sitting on your knees to look her dead in the foggy eyes. One side of her face was pressed flatly to the window, and you couldn’t help but flinch when her exposed teeth scraped over the plastic surface.

She didn’t look like the woman you once knew. Her skin had a greyish color and was slowly starting to rot. The pearly white teeth she once sported were now yellow, and some of them fell out while she was trying to bite a hole through the plastic window of the trailer. The only thing that stayed the same was the silver necklace clinging to her neck. It was a gift from Ally, her drug-addicted son that you dated for a few months in high school. 

He was a nice boy, kind and funny but everyone knew that your relationship wouldn’t last long. You had fun and lived life like there was no tomorrow, but there was a significant difference between you. Ally didn’t have any plans for the future; he lived every day like it was his last, and he never planned on leaving the corrupted trailer park.

You were complete opposites in this aspect; you wanted to be someone. You didn’t want to stay there, work a shitty job that barely paid you anything, and raise five kids by yourself because your trashy husband was too high to function like a normal human being.

There weren’t any hard feelings left behind when you parted ways. At least not between you and Ally. His mother was a different story; she was ready for the wedding and looking after her grandkids that you were supposed to push out of your uterus while her son smoked a joint in the hospital’s waiting room. She sent you dirty looks when you passed her on the street and often threw mean comments to accompany her hatred-filled glares, and there was nothing you could do about it. You even punched her in the face once when her remarks got too personal. After that incident, she called the cops on you, but luckily Ally convinced his mother to withdraw her accusations.

“Karma is a funny gal,” you whispered under your breath before turning away from the window, throwing your cigarette on the floor, and stomping it out with your combat boot.

You got up from the squeaky mattress and shouldered the rifle you found behind the fridge in the tiny kitchen. You didn’t know why it was still there. Were your brothers in such a rush that they couldn’t even take it with them? Did those flesh-craving creatures surround them and force them to run?

A loud bang sounded outside, making you tense up, but before you could freeze in one place, your instincts kicked in, and you gripped the rifle in your hands, aiming it on the locked door of the small trailer. For all you knew, it could be a stray biter that bumped into a dumpster or a living and breathing person. You couldn’t decide which option was supposed to reassure you. 

The undead were easy to deal with; you just had to remember to aim for the brain. It’s already been two days since you were left standing in the alley behind the bank, all alone and vulnerable; after that moment, you had learned to deal with those monsters. It was terrifying at first when you didn’t have any weapons besides the pocket knife in your boot. You had to avoid running into places where the biters grew into larger groups. There was no way you could’ve taken them down by yourself with your pathetic little knife.

You strained your ears to hear if any sounds followed the loud bang, and for a second, there was just silence and faint shuffling when Angela started dragging herself away from the trailer and towards the noise. You listened to her growls before a thought popped into your head. The necklace, you couldn’t let her leave with it. 

“I’m definitely gonna regret this,” you mumbled to yourself before banging your fist on the door of the trailer.

The shuffling stopped for a moment before Angela’s very much alive corpse threw itself at the door, chipped nails pawing at the plastic surface and loud growls emitting from her mouth.

You hesitated, taking a deep breath and popping the lock. The door instantly slammed open, and you stood face to face with what was left of Angela.

“I’m sorry,” you huffed out before a shot rang through the air.

But it wasn’t your rifle nor your bullet that lodged itself into the creature’s head. You felt like your heart was going to explode any second. The corpse, now lifeless, fell to the dirty floor of the trailer. Your brain played the scene in slow-motion, trying to comprehend what has happened right in front of your eyes. 

“Damn, Baby, it took ya a while to get ‘ere.” 

Your head shot up at the familiar voice, your orbs locking with the pale blue color of his irises.

“Merle!”

Before he could react, you threw yourself at him, arms enveloping him in a tight embrace. Your older brother tangled his hand in your messy hair with a relieved laugh, holding your head close to his chest, the other hand clutching your jacket securely. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How long has it been since the last time he saw you? It must have been at least four years, but he had to admit his memory was quite hazy.

You pulled away rather quickly, taking his face in between your palms and searching for any bruises marking his skin, an old habit that you could never get rid of, not even after your father’s demise. 

“Ya don’t hafta do tha’ no more,” he said, eyes concerned but a cheeky grin on his face. He took your hands in his larger ones and patted them before moving away. “The geeks gonna catch up soon. We should leave while we still have time.”

“Where’s Daryl?” You looked behind Merle, trying to spot if your younger brother was hiding anywhere, too mad at you to even say hi.

“Stayed behind. Now c’mon, sis, we hafta get the hell outta ‘ere.” Without further explanation, he pushed you towards the door.

“Wait!” you protested, remembering why you invited Angela’s walking corpse into the trailer in the first place. 

You stepped towards the body lying on the rubber flooring and crouched down next to it. Angela’s face was facing the floor, saving you from seeing her lifeless eyes that lost their shine the moment she turned into this monster. Your hands delicately brushed her grey hair away from the nape of her neck, careful not to touch her skin. Just being in such close proximity to her corpse made your head spin. She smelled dead, very dead. 

“Whatcha doin’ kid?” Merle bent over you, hands placed on his knees to keep some stability and not fall over the dead body. That’d be tragic, but seeing how many lines of cocaine he had snorted a few hours ago, it was also very possible. “Damn, doesn’t she smell jus’ like daisies,” he mocked, an uncontrollable hoarse giggle escaping his lungs.

You couldn’t help but shake your head and snicker at his words. He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time you talked, which was also the time he called you asking for bail money. You didn’t even show up to pick him up, choosing instead to send your lawyer over to get him out of jail. You had to admit it wasn’t one of your brightest ideas, and he ended up making her very uncomfortable. Especially by calling her a “pencil skirt slut”. You had to pay her extra for the trouble.

“If you really think that daisies smell like a rottin’ dead body, then I’m afraid it’s too late to save you.” 

“Nice to see ya haven’t lost yer wit.”

Your head was going to start hurting if you kept shaking it every time Merle decided to open his mouth, so you chose to focus on the task at hand and unclasp Angela’s necklace.

“Shake a leg, will ya?” Your older brother straightened up, popping his back with a satisfied groan before he moved towards the kitchen, probably remembering where he stashed some of his drugs.

You finally managed to get the jewelry off the dead woman and took a moment to admire it despite the tiny chunks of flesh that got tangled up in it. It was very delicate, with a small tear pedant that sparkled when it caught the light streaming through the open door. You had to admit that Ally knew his way around gifts. 

“Merle, I’m done!” you yelled loud enough for him to hear you from one of the rooms. “Let’s get out of here!” 

You hoped he didn’t bail, even if you did deserve it. But your brothers weren’t like you, right? They wouldn’t just leave their kin behind like you did, so you had nothing to fear.

“I’m comin’!” Merle responded just as loud, making your worries disappear.

Damn, he didn’t care that you left them back in the day, even if you cut all contact with them. He was salty about it sometimes when he drank too much, but other than that, he did understand you. It was shocking even for Daryl, who held a lot of hatred towards you after you left, unlike his older brother. He was mad that you didn’t take him with you, even though you proposed it at least ten times, furious that you didn’t keep calling him even though he rejected every call. He knew it was mostly his fault that you stopped trying, but it didn’t prevent him from feeling hurt. 

Merle swaggered back into the room, and your frown immediately turned into a bright grin. “Ya done plunderin’ corpses now?”

“Yeah,” you replied shortly, nodding and getting back on your feet. You dusted yourself off before tucking the necklace into the pocket of your dirty jeans.

You were so casual about the whole situation; it was like the apocalypse didn’t even touch you in the slightest. It bothered Merle immensely; he couldn’t help but wonder where the little girl afraid of stepping foot in the graveyard was? You were different, and it was weird that he hadn’t noticed it at first.

“C’mon then. Don’t forget yer rifle. Daryl left it for ya ‘ere.” His words made you smile a little. You were pleasantly surprised by your younger brother’s gesture.

“How did you know I’ll come back here?”

“Jus’ a feelin’.” He winked at you before swaggering away and out of the trailer without looking back at it for even a mere second.

You trailed behind him, grabbing your bag and shouldering your rifle yet again. Leaving that trailer behind was cathartic; it made you feel free, and at that moment, you decided that it was the best feeling in the world.

The two of you broke into one of the abandoned cars sitting on the outskirts of the trailer park, and you hotwired it, saving Merle the trouble and embarrassment. You had no idea where he was taking you. You thought that he and Daryl decided to stay at one of the trailers further away from the park’s center. It seemed safer than the one you lived in most of your childhood. 

To your surprise, Merle jumped into the driver’s seat and drove you out of the trailer park, and headed southeast towards Yonah Preserve Trail, but before you could reach it, he stopped the car. You rolled down the window on your side and stuck your head outside in curiosity. 

The lake stretched for long miles, disappearing beyond the horizon where your eyes couldn’t reach. The glorious greenery of the forest surrounded it, reflecting in the sheet of clear water. Everything there seemed so peaceful, almost as if it dodged the vice-like grasp of the apocalypse. In fact, on the drive there, you counted only six geeks, no more, no less.

“You set up camp near Turner Reservoir? That’s pretty damn smart.” You nodded your head in respect, grasping the strap of the rifle that laid across your lap.

“Ya can already guess whose idea it was.” Merle chuckled under his nose, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind himself ungracefully. You followed in his footsteps taking your few belongings with you and jumping out of the vehicle.

You walked into the woods, trekking for ten minutes before an army green tent emerged from between the trees. You halted in your steps, feet heavy as if glued to the litter. Merle turned in your direction, confused when he noticed that you stopped in one place.

“Wha’s wrong, Baby?” he asked, furrowing his greying eyebrows. He looked at your face for a few minutes before a realization hit him. “For fuck’s sake, don’ chicken out on me.”

“He won’t like that I’m back,” you protested stubbornly, ready to turn around, leave and not look back. 

Goddammit, you really were a coward, fleeing away from the consequences of your little run away to Atlanta like it was your biggest sin. You shouldn’t be afraid of the confrontation with Daryl because there was no way to change the past now. You’d just have to deal with the pain his words were going to cause; you knew you could survive it. 

“Yer damn right!”

Your head whipped around in the new voice’s direction. Speak of the devil, and he’s sure to appear, you thought when Daryl’s figure emerged from the trees. He looked different, grown-up, and much more grumpy. It’s been more than ten years since you last saw each other. Daryl wouldn’t have recognized you at all if he didn’t overhear your conversation with Merle. He didn’t even want to hear about you when Merle came back from his “visits” to Atlanta.

“Daryl,” you mumbled out his name in disbelief. You wanted to hug him so badly, but you knew that he wouldn’t let you. His grudge towards you ran deep, and physical contact wouldn’t make it any better; it would just anger him more. “You look different.”

Daryl only scowled at you before side-stepping you and walking away towards the camp. You grabbed his wrist quickly, head spinning to find something to say while your younger brother whipped around, forcing his hand out of your grip and almost growling at you. 

“Daryl, you have to understand me. I couldn’t just stay there my whole fucking life!” you argued, hands tangling in your messy hair and almost ripping it out. You were angry beyond words, at him, at his stupid coldness towards your person, and at the whole world for letting him act like that. Couldn’t a cone fall from a nearby tree and slap that stupid scowl off his face? Was it too much to ask for?

“Naw, yer done explainin’.” His voice was sharp, and his blue eyes almost froze you on the spot. He didn’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth. 

Merle leaned on one of the nearby trees, observing the brewing storm between his younger siblings, uninterested. It was funny to him how stubborn both of you were acting, unwilling to try talking it out. He thought the argument was pointless, especially considering that the dead just started walking, and you were acting like little kids about something that happened more than ten years ago. He immediately decided that the best option was to let you both fight it out and intervene only if it was absolutely necessary.

“That’s funny ‘cause I don’t remember even gettin’ a chance to explain.” You met his gaze, voice unwavering despite your whole body trembling from the overwhelming emotions.

“Yer the one tha’ left!” Daryl yelled out in retaliation, clenching his hands into fists before he stepped towards you to show you he wasn’t intimidated by you at all. He wanted to make you feel like a helpless child, but you weren’t going down, not even in his dreams.

“You’re acting so high and mighty now, huh? You were supposed to go with me but you chickened out and decided to follow Merle around like a lost puppy instead.” 

“I didn’t leave my kin like ya did,” he raised his voice at you, even more, making you wince when his hand shot up in the air to gesticulate wildly. For a moment, you had to remind yourself that your father was long dead, and Daryl, though hot-headed, was nothing like him; otherwise, you would already be cowering.

“’m too sober for this,” Mere grumbled out, making Daryl and your heads whip around simultaneously to send him a “get lost” look. So he strolled away towards the makeshift camp, rolling his eyes, probably already planning to get high and drown out all the noise you were making. It was a miracle that the undead hadn’t heard you.

“Yeah? How ‘bout Merle? Did you already forget how he left us behind to go serve in the army?” you tried to reason with him, and just when he wavered, and you thought you won this round, he opened his mouth to talk.

“Tha’ was different.”

“Because he came back? Is that it?” You started laughing like a maniac, making Daryl shiver unconsciously. Something sinister flashed in your eyes, but it was gone before he could recognize it. It made him nervous, but he was too stubborn to back off. 

When your laughter stopped, you threw your arms in the air in resignation with yet another scowl. “Here I am. I came back, are you happy now?” The words barely left your mouth, and you were already walking away, swearing under your breath. 

“Yeah, walk away why dontcha? Tha’s the only thang yer good at,” he mumbled out, following close behind just to spite you.

You spent the rest of the day trying to avoid Daryl at all costs, but he kept getting on your nerves and shoving your shoulder when passing by. Merle was amused by the whole situation and often received glares from both of you for bursting into laughter.

He inhaled the nicotine before puffing out a cloud of thick smoke into the brisk night air, chuckling under his nose when he saw Daryl stare at the back of your head in absolute silence. He reminded him of an angry kid outraged that his mom didn’t want to buy him ice cream. 

“Whatcha laughin’ at, dickhead?” you asked, plopping onto the dirt next to him with a huff. 

The night summer breeze washed over your bare shoulders all the way down to the tips of your fingers, making shivers run down your spine, and annoying goosebumps break out all over your skin. You outstretched your arms towards the bonfire to warm them up a little bit. Merle shrugged, handing you the cigarette with another chuckle.

“Nothin’, Baby.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and accepted the smoke. “I have a name you know,” you tried to sound mad, but the tiny smile on your face exposed your fondness for the silly nickname.

“Yeah? Like what?” His lips curved into a teasing grin before a string of atrocious names that seemed ridiculous when pinned to your face and personality left his lips. You snorted twice by the time he finished reciting them. Merle stopped for a second to take the cigarette from between your fingers before speaking up again, “Better tell yer old brother what the hell were ya up to in Atlanta.”

“If we’re bein’ completely honest, not much. Same old shit, just a change of scenery.” Your vague response didn’t seem to discourage Merle from digging deeper into your history in the big city.

“Naw, that,” he started, pointing his finger at you in a manner that warned you that he knew everything you tried to hide from him, “I don’ believe. I know mah little sistah like the back of mah hand.” Merle threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer with a deep chuckle. "Have the same damn blood runnin' thru our veins." You threw his arm off with an exasperated huff.

You hesitated, looking around to ensure that Daryl was nowhere to be found before you tried to decide if telling Merle about your “career” would be a good idea. He was your older brother, the same one that used to listen to your teenage ramblings about dating and then give you poor advice that you usually ignored altogether. You trusted him once, so why was it so difficult to do now?

“Seriously, Merle?” you asked when he poked you in the arm with his finger to rush you into answering. You couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at his childish behavior. You caught his finger in a tight grip and twisted, making your older brother wince and mutter a quick apology.

“When did ya get so strong?” 

You left his hand alone with a sigh. “I wish I could ask you when did you get so annoyin’, but I guess you’ve always been like that.”

“Oh, I missed this!” Merle threw his arm around your shoulder yet again. “It’s gonna be just like good ole days; just me, you, and Darylina. Campin’ in the woods and huntin’.” 

“‘s not gonna be like “good ole days.” Wake up, Merle,” Daryl’s voice came from behind your backs. “She ain’t a part of this family no more.”

You haven’t seen this coming, neither did Merle guessing by the frown on his face. You rolled your eyes in exasperation, but inside, you felt like your heart just cracked in half. It was a low blow, and it hit you right where it hurt the most.

“She ain’t family, and she’s never gonna be. I regret even leavin’ that rifle behind.” Every word coming out of his mouth made your brave facade crumble piece after piece. Who were you kidding? Not even a true masochist would be able to stand this kind of emotional torture. 

“Maybe I’m not,” you muttered, chin quivering in your attempts to drown the sobs that fought their way out of your lungs. Why did it have to hurt so much? Merle was ready to charge at Daryl for making his little sister so sad. He got up with a grunt and took a step towards the archer, flicking away the remnants of his cigarette. “Merle, it’s not worth it. Please, stop.” You caught his hand in your and tugged him back. You knew it wasn’t wise for the two of them to start fighting.

“‘m gettin’ tired of this crap, little brother,” he growled out, shaking away from your grip. “Corpses started walkin’ ‘round, and ya think ya have the right to decide who’s a part of the family and who ain’t?” 

“Why are ya defendin’ her?! Can’t ya get it through yer thick skull tha’ she didn’t want to have anythin’ to do with us after she left?” Daryl spat on the ground as if talking about you left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You’ve never felt as worthless and helpless in your life as in that moment. Your little brother hated your guts; your own flesh and blood didn’t want to have anything to do with you. You didn’t even dare to wonder what he’d think about you if you told him what you have exactly been up to in Atlanta and what awful shit you did to survive.

Merle and Daryl screamed at each other, getting angrier and angrier with every sentence, but you couldn’t even decipher their words. You just wanted to blurt everything out and be done with it. If they told you to leave, you’d do that and make sure never to step a foot near their camp again. Like an idiot, you listened to your panicked heart and not to your head.

“I killed seven people!” your shriek made both men freeze. Maybe you were a masochist, after all.

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If your name is crossed out it means I can’t tag you for some unknown reason.

[bebepac]

Substitute Queen (Happy Birthday Queen Walton!)

This is a special edition of Fast Forward for my friend @queenwalton as she enjoys this series I've created a lot and it is her birthday! (Well a day early!)

I'm pretty sure you have been following along with me since I started writing on the fandom a little over a year ago. Thank you for your friendship and support. I hear from you after every chapter I post and I love it. Also thank you for being my trustworthy reader of infinite snippets. I hope you have an absolutely wonderful birthday my friend. 🥰🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤

A/N:  Thanks @dcbbw​ for bouncing some ideas around with me, and giving me a few to make this birthday fic even better.  Thank you girl.  

Summary:  Riley and Liam go on their first vacation alone since the events of Ellie’s kidnapping.  Maxwell and Taylor take care of all the children.  Maxwell throws a “Baby” Beaumont Bash.

Original Post Date: 03/24/21 at 11:55AM EST

The Book:  TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley  / Maxwell x Taylor 

Warnings:  None other than hilarious fluff

Word Count: 2425

Song inspiration for this chapter: Baby Shark (Trap Music Remix)��

I don’t own rights to this hilarious music.  

Liam saw Riley standing  in the study with her back turned to him.  The King of Cordonia shifted seamlessly into stealth mode as he crept silently into the study, surprising his Queen by pouncing on her like a lion, grabbing her and slipping his arms around her waist, and sensually planting a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on her neck.  He gently rubbed himself against her.  

“Take a break for a little while my love.”

He felt her body tense up.

“EEEWWWWW GROSS!!! NOT YOUR WIFE!!!  OOOOH GOD!!!!!!! NOT YOUR WIFE!!! PUT THAT THING AWAY!!!!!!  YOU HAVE FOUR KIDS!?!?!?!?!?  AREN’T YOU GUYS TIRED OF DOING THAT?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?”

Liam quickly recoiled from her.   Liam looked genuinely horrified when she turned to face him.

“I’m so sorry Taylor.  From behind, I swear I couldn’t…I mean I didn’t…..”  

“Bleh!!!! Don’t finish that sentence!!!!!!

Riley walked in the room seeing Taylor and Liam visibly uncomfortable.

“What did I miss?”  

“I need a bath!!!  Your husband thought I was you.  Apparently we look the same from behind.”  

Riley glanced at Taylor.  “I mean…. He’s really not completely wrong Tay.  Now that you had the twins, we really do.”  

Taylor scowled.  

“And that right there is why no one will mistake us for each other from the front.  Your scowl face.”

“Well this is a sufficiently awkward conversation, so I’m going to go, especially after I’ve completely embarrassed myself. Riley when you’re finished, please come by my study.”  Liam still had a flush on his cheeks and ears.

“For real, put that thing away Liam, it’s barely lunch time.”  Taylor grumbled.

“I will be there.”  She winked at him.  

Liam’s smile returned.  

“Can one of you keep it in your pants please?  You two are like horny teenagers.”  

“I’m okay with that.”  They both said in unison smiling at each other.  Liam left the room.

“Are you going away for your wedding anniversary?”

“We probably should, but we have our date nights, and we can always sneak some time alone now that the kids are a little older, now that everyone is potty trained and not on the boob anymore.  God I missed my boobs being mine, and now that they are again, of course they look like a dumpster fire after breastfeeding four kids.”  

“Well that’s one hell of a bra then.”

“Who are you telling? They would be dragging the floor otherwise.”

Taylor laughed.  

“Please don’t do that visual to our body.”

“It is our body right?”  

Riley and Taylor giggled.  

“You two should go away alone.  You two never get adult time… And I don’t mean just for that.  You two apparently get more than enough adult time for that.” 

“Tay, it’s just that we haven’t really been away from the kids.  Anywhere we go, we travel as a family.  I feel safer that way, so does Liam.”  

“Because of me right?”  

“Tay….”

“It is.  The last time you two tried to go on vacation was when I took Ellie, and you haven’t been apart from them a day since.  It’s my fault you two are afraid to be away from your children."

“Taylor, Liam and I have forgiven you for that, a long time ago.  We know that you’re not the same person you once were.”

“Prove it, you two take a trip, and it’s a trip you two desperately deserve. I promise the palace will be still standing when you get back.”

Taylor smiled at Riley.

“Please let me do this for the two of you. It’s been one thing after another, and you guys deserve a vacation. Let me and Max take care of the kids.”

“Tay… you do realize that would be your two barely crawling plus my four.  You two would be taking care of six children.”  

“And your kids are pretty self sufficient.  They can feed themselves.”  

“You’ll need some reinforcements, Tay. For real.  I’ll call Drake and Hana to help.”  

“I really think Max and I can handle it.”

“Tay…”  

“Riley, we got this.”

*^*^*^*^* Taylor and Maxwell *^*^*^*^*

“You volunteered us for WHAT?!?!?!?!?”

“Oh come on Max, they’re just kids.”

“Yeah, and we’ve been lucky to keep the two of ours alive so far.  We’re going to be outnumbered Softie. There’s going to be six of them and two of us. You have put them at an unfair advantage.”  

Taylor laughed.

“This is not a war Maxwell.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a war.”

A week later,  Riley and Liam were preparing to leave for their first vacation alone, since they had children.  

Riley kissed and hugged each child.

“Now you kids behave for Auntie Taylor and Uncle Maxwell.  I’m counting on you Miss Crown Princess for a report when I return. You know you’re first in command Ellie.”

Ellie stood up straight and squared her shoulders.  “I promise Daddy, we’ll all be good.”

Ellie gave a little salute.

Liam gave one back.

“As you were, my princess.”

Riley, still kneeling, smoothed down Liberty’s little curls.  Her little lip was already trembling.  

“Mommy loves you baby.”  She kissed her little cheeks.  

“Are you ready to leave My Love?”  

Riley stood up nodding.   Liam reached out her hand for hers.  

They started to walk towards the SUV.  

“Mama.”  

Liam felt Riley stop.  

“It’s okay My Love we can do this.”  

Riley’s eyes were quickly filling with tears.

Riley resumed her stride.

“Dada?”

The little inflection of a question in Liberty’s voice made Liam stop dead in his tracks. His grip tightening on Riley’s hand.  Liam took a deep shaky breath.

"Don't look back Liam, you know we won't leave if we do."

Bastien and Nico could see how the King and Queen were struggling to leave their children.

“Your Majesties, come this way.”  Bastien called out to them gently.

Both the King and Queen were in tears hearing their youngest burst into tears at the sight of them leaving, as they climbed into  the black SUV.

“It’s okay.  They’ll be fine Riley. They have reinforcements.”

“Taylor wouldn’t let me call Drake or Hana.”  

Liam hit a button on his phone. He put the phone on speaker.

“What’s your location?”  

“Already inside the palace.”  

“Olivia?”  

“And you fully understand the plan?”

“Let your tiny humans drive Taylor and Maxwell insane?”

“NO!!!!”

“I know the plan Liam! Not be seen and keep a watch on them, and only appear if they need help with the children. “

“Yes. Thank you Liv.”  

“I do this because we’re friends Riley.”  

“Liberty has a set of lungs on her, she hasn’t stopped crying since you two left.  I’m sure she’ll be fine.”  

“Thank you Liv.”  

“They’ll be fine, i’ll be watching. Enjoy your vacation already.”  

“Where are we headed? Since you wouldn’t disclose a location to me, I literally packed for everything including plagues and fire rain.”  

“For some fun in the sun on our own private beach.”

“Good thing I packed a bathing suit.”  

“You won’t be needing it.”  

Riley smacked Liam’s arm as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

*^*^*^*^*^* Meanwhile back at the Palace *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

“C’mon Libby it’s okay.   Mommy and Daddy will be back.”  

Taylor picked her up, rocking her in her arms.  

“Shhhhhh… it’s okay Libby.   Auntie Taylor is here, so is Uncle Max.”

Libby’s cries subsided a little but not significantly.

“Can I try?”  Ellie asked.

Ellie crossed her eyes and made a funny face at Libby causing her to break out into a fit of giggles.  

“We’re evening out the odds.  Three on three, I like those odds better Taylor.  We might actually survive this. They will listen to one of their own.  Ellie is like our super agent spy.”

By the end of day one both Taylor and Maxwell were exhausted, tending to and chasing around six children.  At least their two were relatively easy to catch, as they were barely mobile.

“Why did I think the children being self-sufficient was going to be a good thing?  I’ve never been this tired in my life.”  

“Is this what we have to look forward to when they’re older?”  

"Seems like it."

^*^*^*^* Liam and Riley *^*^*^*

“My Love?”  

“Yes Dear?”  

“You don’t have to cut up my food for me.”  

Riley had absentmindedly cut up Liam’s chicken into very small child bite size pieces. She had also ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead.

“Oh!  I didn’t even realize.”

Liam smiled at her, running his fingers through his hair.  “We’ve been parents for so long, it’s been a long time since you and I have been truly alone.”  

“You know what I want to do after dinner?” Riley inquired.

Liam raised his eyebrow with an intrigued smirk.  

“I think I might have an idea of exactly what you want to do.”  

Liam and Riley went to sleep after dinner.  Both stretched out in the bed.  Both had covers, and no kids arms, legs, feet, or hair  in their face.

Every night was like that Liam and Riley got the most sleep they had, had in years…. Well after other adult activities. Liam had even turned off his alarm living in the moment with Riley.

*^*^* Baby Beaumont Bash *^*^*^*

Taylor was feeding the girls when she heard loud thumping music. Taylor could hear jingling. Taylor glanced up, seeing the chandelier above her head was thumping to the beat of the music. Thank goodness the twins were used to Maxwell's antics, and Lily and Violet were sleeping right through it. She put Violet back in the crib and walked down the hall. The closer she got to the east wing ballroom the music got louder.

Taylor pulled the doors open to the ballroom, smoke bubbled down the hall.

There were multi colored blinking lights, a disco ball spinning from the ceiling and a snack table full of candy, sweets and soda.

Maxwell had a DJ station set up  playing a song on an endless loop, bobbing his head to the music with his headphones on.

And Riley's kids hopped up on kiddie cocaine (aka sugar) dancing and flailing around in what Taylor could only think to describe as a kiddie rave.

"Is that….. a trap remix of baby shark?"

"Heck yeah it is."

And the kids were loving it.

Maxwell let the music keep playing and he had a bottle of champagne in one hand calling Ellie and Adam over to him. He had a sword in his right.

"Adam you hold the bottle."

"You are not giving them champagne Maxwell! They're children!"

"I'm shocked at you Softie. What kind of Uncle do you think I am? It's just sparkling apple cider. Okay Ellie, you get the sword because you're the oldest. And what you want to do is slice just like I'm showing you. Oh, and don't kill your brother, that would be bad."

"I don't think Daddy would let us do this Uncle Maxwell." Ellie said wearily.

"Heck no he wouldn't.  Well not with Maxwell teaching you. If anyone is going to teach the crown princess to slice anything while someone else is holding it, it's going to be me."

Olivia appeared walking out of the shadows of an alcove.

"Have you been here the whole week?"

"Of course! You know Liam and Riley. And these kids are never going to fall asleep, if we don't have them dance the sugar out."

"I've got just the thing.”

 Max cranked up the music.

*^*^*^*^* Liam and Riley *^*^*^*^*

"Liam I miss them."

"We'll be home to see them by noon tomorrow."

"Liam I know you miss them too, log into Crown Cam, so we can see them."

Riley sat next to Liam as he logged into Crown Cam.

As they went to each room they noticed none of the children were in their beds.

"It's past their bedtime."

"Did you really think Max and Taylor would get all kids to bed on time?"

"No but…."

They clicked on each room, until they got to the ballroom on the east wing.

Both gasped at the scene. Liam clicked the button enabling the cameras to pick up sound in the room.

Both looked at each other, seeing their kids wildly dancing and flailing about. Libby was excitedly jumping up and down with a glow stick while Olivia sang on stage.

"Is Olivia really singing and rapping to Let It Go?!?"

Olivia's Rap

Liam nodded, watching the scene for a few more moments before slowly closing his laptop.

"I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

*^*^*^*^*^* kiddie rave *^*^*^*^*

Taylor danced with the kids while Max continued at his DJ station.

"Olivia can flow, can you believe it Max?!?"

"OLIVIA!!!!! LANGUAGE!!!!!!! THEY'RE CHILDREN!!!!" Maxwell screamed.

"Are you serious with me right now?!? Language?"

Olivia rolled her eyes in complete annoyance.

"Of all the things you've done, LANGUAGE is your hard stop? You gave the crown princess a SWORD to slice a bottle out of her younger brother's hands, and instructed her not to kill him. That's entirely okay, but CURSING is where you draw the line in the sand? Seriously Maxwell?"

Both Taylor and Olivia glared at Maxwell for a few moments in confusion.

"Liv keep going!!! We have to tire them out!!!"

Olivia resumed her rap battle….with herself.

Within an hour it looked like a crime scene in the ballroom. Children were passed out everywhere.  

Taylor picked up a sleeping Ellie, Olivia, grabbed Adam, and Maxwell carried Jaiden and Liberty upstairs to their beds.  

"They need baths, their faces and hands are dirty with crumbs and sweets."

"We'll give them baths in the morning, before Liam and Riley get back." Maxwell was confident they could get it done.

They didn't. They all slept in instead.

When Liam and Riley arrived back at the palace, they didn't know what to expect.

They saw their kids, all lined up wearing yesterday's clothes, dirty faces, and wild chaotic hair, looking like they had their own kiddie walks of shame.  But each child had a huge smile on their face.

Liam walked up to Ellie.

"Your report my Crown Princess?"

"Daddy! I sliced a bottle top off a bottle while Adam held it."

"And I didn't die!" Adam screamed confidently.

"We had fun!" Jaiden exclaimed.

"Daddy did you know Auntie Liv is a gangsta rapper?" Ellie's voice sounded like she was in complete awe.

"Yes My Princess, we saw."

Olivia turned pale, then she knowingly nodded. "I should have known you two would access Crown Cam."

Riley turned to Maxwell.

"So you threw a Beaumont Bash…. for our children?"  Riley asked.

"Of course, gotta train them up right!! Little Blossom!"

"Sure, they're a little dirty, but at least the palace is still standing, what else would you expect from the Substitute Queen?" Taylor commented with a smirk.

Happy birthday! I hope you enjoyed this!

Tagging the comments

[buryyourfavouritestrope]

May I walk you home? - Arima Kishou

A gentle hum settled within the corridors of the CCG Main Office; all the hype that had been built throughout the day had fizzled out hours ago.  Almost every employee had returned to their homes, leaving only the skeleton crews occupying the building.

He hadn’t meant to stay this late; Yoshitoki had pleaded with him earlier in the afternoon, when he’d visited Arima’s office spontaneously and found the man half asleep behind his desk, to go home and sleep in an actual bed. With a sigh he tore himself free of his chair, the material whined as it sprung back to its original form.  In his mind he reminded himself that he’d go home to shower and change before returning. There would be no point in resting; by the time he planted his head on his pillow he’d be beckoned back.

Kishou almost missed the sound of pen scratching at paper. If he hadn’t become so fine tuned to every creak and hushed whisper this level of the building emitted, he probably would’ve overlooked the simple noise. Yet, the soft sigh caressing his ears enticed him into finding the source.

Peering through an empty doorway he spotted her, a small frame hunched over a desk, with a pen cocked to her temple as she focused on the file before her. By the way her eyes would occasionally slid shut and stay there for a second before opening wide she was struggling to stay awake. Arima chose this moment to check the time once again.

“Normally people finish a write up of the day on the opposite side of midnight.” Arima theorized, to say the way she bounced in her seat and dropped all items in her hands didn’t amuse him would’ve been an understatement. He was attempting, rather poorly might he add, to contain a smirk.

“Special Class Investigator Kishou,” She yelped. “I just wanted to finish one file…three or six files ago. What time is it? Oh god, I had to visit-“Her eyes glanced towards her phone, the screen illuminating as the numbers burned into her retinas. She hadn’t meant to stay this late. She hadn’t meant to still be in the office after a thirty-six-hour shift.

“It’s ok, I’ve had my fair share of late nights. But you really should go home now, I hear your last investigation was difficult. It’s not uncommon for a ghoul’s threat level to rise in the field but to go from a lower-class ghoul to an SS rating.” He surmised. Her frame jumped from her seat as she began to wave her bandaged arms at him. As if to stop him from speaking any further.

“It was all the other members of the team, in fact I came away with only light injuries, I can’t say the same for the others.” She blurted. Arima let himself smile gently; he hadn’t met an Associate Special Class Investigator who was as humble as she was. Nor had he seen one with as much untainted innocence at their rank. “I offered to finish their case notes, as a way to help them.”

The room fell into the same gentle hum, Arima had found himself used to, once more. Her weight shifted on her feet as she chewed at her bottom lip. He could see her contemplating something and if he had to guess it would be whether to abandon the paperwork and leave or remain dedicated.

“May I walk you home?” Kishou questioned; it was an attempt to settle her mental debate. “if not now, I can wait for when you’re ready to leave” He added. Arima was curious. He’d always heard everyone’s praise for the Investigator but up until now he’d never conversed properly with her.

“We live in opposite directions” She spluttered, her hand lifting to her lips. “Not that I know where you live, I just meant that I would’ve guessed you lived in the nicer part of the city. I mean the guys in my team tend to call where I live a Ghoul hotspot, I mean I’ve only witnessed one incident outside of work” Her babble made him laugh. A rare noise indeed and it took her a second to notice as she continued talking.

“Even more reason to, plus a perk of being called the White Reaper means ghouls tend to steer clear of me” He jested. Another rare occurrence. The second in the space of five minutes, maybe he was exhausted. Still, he stood firm in the doorway. His eyes watching as she gathered her belongings without hesitation. Clearly, she’d given up protesting.

Before they knew it, they’d wandered further from the ominous Main office. Arima had listened as she stammered her way through the previously mentioned Ghoul case. Occasionally she would brush her fingers over one of her bandaged arms, he assumed she was doing it to remind herself that she wasn’t dreaming.

“What made you want to be an Investigator?” Arima inquired; her movements paused and for a second Arima doubted whether he’d asked the right question. He was curious, everything about her screamed that she was in the wrong profession. From the way she smiled to the way her eyes sparkled when she was nervous. Out loud he wouldn’t admit to it, but he found himself wanting to protect her from the harsh reality of the CCG. From the horrors of the world. Even in this short amount of time she had wiggled beneath the surface of his soul and infected him. He understood why everyone liked her so much.

“My brother,” The syllables held a weight he knew all to well. The numbness that consumed him hung from every letter as he turned his gaze to her. The shadows perfectly masked the emotions scattering across her features. Normally he would pry, a desperate attempt to study the joy people usually held when talking about their motivation. He wanted to be able to imitate it, perhaps to fool himself into believing he could be the same.

“I’m sorry” He found himself apologising, his eyes shifting to watch the surroundings. He’d taken note of almost everyone who had crossed their path. It was a precaution, should he need to fight.

“No, don’t be. If he were here, he’d be fanboying over you, I mean the sort of jaw to the floor type of excitement kids get with tv. He was insanely obsessed with Investigators, he got it from watching our mother. They both had a bizarre joy for dangerous situations. Finny was always an adrenaline junkie, he used to use balcony railings as tightropes, or play chicken in the roads near our home. My mother was always out, so it was my job to watch him. As a teenager he became hyper fixated on Ghouls and Investigators and for a while it was an innocent intrigue into how they fought. As a teenager he wanted to watch our mother in action. He wanted to watch Investigator’s fight in all their glory. So, at night he’d go paroling the back alleys for any Ghouls in our Ward. I used to follow after him just to ensure he didn’t get into any trouble or injured. Most of the time he’d only stumble on human crimes, a few times he’d stumble across a long-abandoned Ghoul attack. Our mother died on a mission years before I thought about joining. In fact, I only really wanted to be a bookstore clerk. Her death though sparked something in Finny, it drove him. He would go out longer, he’d go to the rougher areas. Every time I’d follow after him” She faltered briefly.

“Did he ever get into trouble? I can’t imagine all the time he only saw the back end of a ghoul hunt” Arima asked. It was stupid. He knew that the second he spoke, but his mouth moved quicker than his thoughts. She gave him a false smile. The type he’d used a few times.

“Oh boy, there were a couple close shaves. I used to throw him into a dumpster and cover his mouth to stop us from getting caught by a Ghoul. When we got home, he’d be angry but apologise and promise me he wouldn’t do anything reckless. He died shortly after our mother. For the longest time I blamed myself, he went to parole at the height of Ghoul activity back then, if I remember correctly you were just starting out at the CCG, and he used to rave about a certain blue haired investigator that he occasionally caught site of. I refused to go the night he was injured. I was exhausted from school and a part time job, so I begged him not to go. Selfish am I right?” She croaked. By now Arima should’ve stopped her. He should’ve placed a hand on her shoulder and hushed her as tears slowly fell down her face. Instead, he followed her steps as they turned the corner. The older Investigator wanted to disagree with her. It wasn’t selfish to value her own rest.

Kishou’s mind threw itself back to his beginnings with the CCG, he vaguely remembered hearing about an ordinary human turning up at fights. No-one quite understood how they kept finding them, but they had. The muffled whispers in his memory, caused him to step closer to the younger Investigator. It hadn’t been as though the pavement had narrowed beneath their feet. Arima had done it out of instinct as he listened to his own teenage voice in his memories. He remembered calling the unknown witness a fool, who would find himself dead.

“A bookstore clerk” Arima mused, he had meant to say it in his mind. Once again, his mouth betrayed him. He listened to her soft laugh. “I could see you doing that, just from everything that happened I would’ve thought you’d stay as far from the CCG as you could get.”

“Believe me I wanted nothing more than to move to a new country at that point, start a fresh somewhere less influenced by Ghoul’s but I kept hearing Finny, I kept visualising how happy he would get whenever he saw Investigators out and about. I’d never seen him happier, so I guess I joined to keep his memory alive. Especially after he died, even dying he was smiling as he clung to a piece of what I think was a Quinque” She recalled. “I found him the next morning, I almost fell over his half dead body as I left my room. He was gripping this Quinque shard as I tried to stop the bleeding. I think he accepted it, he just kept saying that the Investigators were beautiful. Apparently, he’d watched two Investigators take down a lower ranked Ghoul and they’d seen him. As they went to yell at him for putting himself in danger, some SS rated Ghoul turned up. Before they’d reached him, one of them had been killed. So the second one did his best to protect Finny. I don’t know how he got out. But he did. I was the only one he knew at his funeral. Just me and the Investigator who told me about the events”  

“I’m sorry,” Arima apologised once more. This time he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok, it’s how life is sometime, I haven’t really told anyone that story, you’re the first.” She smiled at him. Her hands pointed to the home beside them and Arima found himself questioning when they had arrived. Or when his thumb had begun to rub circles into her shoulder. “This is me”

“Yes, then this is where we part ways. Thank you for answering my question. Good Night Asso-“ She cut him off.

“It’s really late, and I’d feel really bad if you had to walk all the way home. I mean the sun would be up before you arrived. So can I offer you the guest room. It’s not much but the bed’s better than the sofa. I have some of my dad’s old shirts in a box that I can fish out for you tomorrow morning.” Her words caught him by surprise. His eyes widening at the offer, he should’ve refused. He really should’ve refused but he found himself nodding.

He was staying because he was tired, because she had spoken to him as though he were her friend or family and because he could’ve sworn, bathed in the moonlight, he could see the vulnerability that encircled her eyes. She needed the company, he convinced himself, and though he knew he wasn’t much in the form of comfort he followed her inside.  

[monsterywriting]

Maledos - pt 1

masterlist

This is a rewrite. Read the original parts here, here and here

word count: 7,381 (!!!)

AN: i have really wanted to finish this story, but the original wasn’t really well planned out (and reading my old writing was :/) SO i decided to make one GIANT rewrite of the originals and continue from there. i mostly added on to what was already there with some minor changes so the story would make more sense and just add some extra bits :) the originals will be taken off the master list but will still be linked here.

Everything burned as you raced through the streets of your neighborhood, frantically searching for your dog. Your legs and lungs were screaming from the workout you’d only just finished and your eyes stung with the threat of tears from your panic.

Of course Pumpkin would take off after the two of you had just come back from running on the park trails, only seconds away from entering the safety of your apartment building when a car backfired nearby and scared her.

You called her name out in desperation, though you knew she was probably long gone from the area. You had only just moved into the city recently and neither her or you were familiar enough with the area to not get lost.

You bit your thumbnail anxiously. Pumpkin wouldn’t last a minute out on the streets by herself, exposed to the elements. She was sensitive, scared of her own shadow when it was cast on a wall. Not to mention, the weather forecast for the night called for thunderstorms, dark clouds already gathering overhead to block the afternoon sun.

“Hey, kid, need some help?”

You almost don’t realize the stranger is talking to you, too preoccupied in your own worry to pay much attention to your surroundings. Once you do, however, you’re too relieved at the display of kindness to correct the tiefling that you were actually an adult.

Your potential savior towered over you, well over 6’ even without including his horns that curled back over his head, average for a tiefling but giant in comparison to your short figure. His skin was a fiery red and he was dressed in all black - a nice dress shirt tucked into slim-fitting trousers that accentuated his buff figure nicely. The most striking part of his outfit, however, was the leather biker jacket with an unfamiliar emblem of a stag surrounded by brambles. Had you been in your right mind, you may have also taken in his short-cropped black hair, bright yellow eyes, strong nose and jawline, nice full lips - in short, handsome, model-like, statuesque, hot, all terms you may have used to describe him if you weren’t preoccupied with finding your dog.

He also looked fairly annoyed with you, though you decided to attribute it as his resting face since he had obviously taken the time to come out of his way to stop and help you.

“Uhm- yes, my dog, Pumpkin,” you explained breathlessly, hardly able to focus as you continued to look around for a familiar flash of fur, “she took off while I was unlocking my apartment building’s door! We just got back from the park!”

Maledos appraised the tiny human with an eyebrow raised. He was still debating whether to actually go out of his way for you, his question more rhetorical than anything else, expecting the person to wave away a stranger rather than roping them into their problem.

Based on the owner, however, he figured ‘Pumpkin’ was a chihuahua. Or a Pomeranian; something small and fluffy that surely couldn’t have gotten far. It wouldn’t take long to find the little rascal, so he didn’t mind potentially being a few minutes late to work.

“I’ll walk with you and help you look,” he offered. You certainly didn’t look like you were a resident of the neighborhood, and at the grateful look you gave him as you eagerly accepted, you had probably been worried about wandering around the predominantly orcish neighborhood alone.

Maledos came to regret not minding his own business, however, as those few minuets stretched into an hour of searching every single alleyway, dumpster and parked car they came across and he had long since missed the window to get out of this mess. Valbaugh was definitely going to kill him once he finally showed up. 

You, on the other hand, were laser-focused on finding your dog, nervously looking up at the darkening sky every so often and hoping that she was hunkered down somewhere and not running in the busy intersections.

After entering yet another alley while you checked under parked cars, Maledos squatted down to look under a store’s dumpster, careful not to get his shoes or pants in any of the unidentifiable dumpster juice leaking from a crack in the metal but eventually forced to place his hands on the pavement to peer underneath the gap, internally cursing at the definite crease in his leather shoes. He stood up, glancing down the mostly empty alley and catching a glimpse of brown fur disappearing behind some smaller trashcans.

Praying its your dog and not a stray so he can leave, Maledos approaches, intent on grabbing the dog and swiftly returning it to you. Moving the trashcan and expecting to see a tiny fluff ball, his gaze was instead met with that of a giant pitfall, its expression decidedly murderous. Its muscles flexed impressively underneath its reddish-brown pelt and its studded pink leather harness only added to the fearsome image before him. He scrambled out of the way, about to yell at you to run when you suddenly let out a screech and called out Pumpkin’s name again, this time in joy, crouching down and holding your arms open.

The pit ran past him and barreled into you, nearly knocking you over with the force of the collision. Standing up, you lifted Pumpkin with barely a grunt - an impressive feat in and of itself - and peppered her face with kisses as Maledos stood awkwardly out of the way of the touching reunion. 

Finally setting the dog down, you grabbed the leash that had been trailing behind her and began thanking Maledos profusely as the two of you walked down the street and back to your starting point.

“Thank you again,” you repeated as you walked your now definite savior, sincere in your gratitude even if he’d been a grouch the entire time, “I only moved here a month ago and I was so worried I’d get lost!”

You gestured to the specific building down the road, evidently having no issue with telling him your address. In fact, the entire time Maledos had been with you alone in isolated parts of the neighborhood, you didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that he, a complete stranger, may well have been a serial killer.

But more pressingly, Maledos realized the apartment building you pointed to was his own. Another surprise - you were apparently his neighbor.

As Maledos tuned out your rambling, he took the time to fully examine you. You obviously weren’t a little kid as Maledos had originally thought, but were incredibly short - you couldn’t be more than 5’. You were dressed in workout clothes, which was to be expected if you had just left the park as you told him. You spoke animatedly, your eyes and facial expression giving away every fluctuation in emotion while your hands waved about, even as he didn’t pay attention, he could guess you were recounting the moments leading up to you losing your dog - who was walking calmly in between you and him with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, seemingly the exact opposite of her spaz of an owner.

“I just don’t know how to repay you,” you finished as you finally reached the front of the apartment building, gulping down a deep breath before looking expectantly at Maledos.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly, continuing down the street in the direction he’d originally been going before the over hour-long deviation from his routine. Glancing at the time, he realized just how much time had elapsed and cursed under his breath, Valbaugh no doubt fuming at the bar.

“Well, I hope to see you around!” You called after him, certain he didn’t catch your name even as you shouted it as loudly as you dared in a residential neighborhood.

Maledos doesn’t turn around, not bothering to acknowledge your friendliness, knowing you wouldn’t last long in the neighborhood - no matter how tough your dog looked.

You, meanwhile, turn to look down at Pumpkin, the dog whining as she pulled on her leash to go inside. You quickly acquiesce, rushing to unlock the door just as the first raindrops began to fall on the sidewalk where you’d just been standing.

It wasn’t until after you reached your apartment and threw yourself on your bed in exhaustion that the gravity of the entire situation hit you. You could have lost Pumpkin for far longer than the time it took to find her had that tiefling not found her. And only now did you realize you never caught his name, though as you hugged Pumpkin close in your bed with emotional tears streaming down your face, you felt incredibly indebted to him, whoever he was.

You don’t remember falling asleep like that, though you must have as you’re forcibly shaken awake by your roommate facedown on your bed with your shoes still on your feet hanging off the edge and Pumpkin stretched out along your side. In your surprise, you suddenly shot up, effectively scaring the daylights out of Kharza, which in turn scared Pumpkin passed out next to you.

Checking your phone, you were shocked to find it was already 4 o’clock in the afternoon and outside your window the storm was in full force, the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance as giant raindrops sounding like hail pelted the windows.

Kharza flicked your forehead and pouted as her other hand reached over to scratch Pumpkin’s ear to soothe her, “Don’t scare me like that! What the hell happened to you? I’ve been calling you all afternoon.”

“Pumpkin got spooked by some car backfiring today and took off,” you explained, apologizing before getting into the whole spiel of what had transpired, wondering just how much to reveal to Kharza of the grumpy tiefling who came to your aid in case it made for an awkward interaction later, “Somebody did stop and help me, though. I don’t know if he lives nearby but if it wasn’t for him I probably wouldn’t have found Pumpkin.”

Kharza’s expression had grown increasingly grim as she absorbed the story, concerned about what could have happened to either one of you while running around the city’s busy streets alone. Rather than lecture you for not being more careful when you were so clearly shaken up about what had happened still, Kharza instead turned to Pumpkin and mock-scolded her in a baby voice, making you laugh at Pumpkin getting excited by Kharza’s tone alone.

You’ve known the half-orc since you were both in diapers, growing up in the same small town together - and keeping in touch even after she went to college in the much larger city - meant that she knew how important Pumpkin was to you and exactly what you needed to relieve the tension you felt.

“I’m glad you found her quickly,” Kharza said as she got up and walked to your bedroom door, “but hurry up and jump in the shower. We’re going out for drinks tonight.”

“What about the rain?” You asked, looking out the window at the seemingly endless torrent. You couldn’t even see the street below through the thick sheet of rain.

“I already checked the weather. It should be done by 7 so we can head out at 10,” Kharza insisted confidently, “I need a drink after being called in on a Saturday and you need to get out of your little new resident bubble. Bring out the party animal you from our high school days, huh?”

You chuckled along at the memory, somewhat embarrassed but acquiescing with her invitation out, knowing that despite coming out as a demand, she would have no problem if you declined. You supposed Kharza was right in that you had been in something of a slump since moving to the city and away from home - not going anywhere besides your job, the park with Pumpkin and the apartment. You didn’t know anyone here, and hadn’t really made the effort to get to know them.

You thought once you started your job you could get to know your co-workers, but the office you worked at was much larger than you thought and the cubicles kept everyone fairly separate, making it hard for you to really get friendly with anyone. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity for you to meet Kharza’s other friends and perhaps make some of your own.

Still, you were apprehensive standing in front of your closet wrapped only in your towels just hours later. It had taken you hours to convince yourself that Pumpkin would be okay alone, the thunderstorm long past and snoring loudly on your bed after going out to use the bathroom, and now you couldn’t help but agonize over what to wear. On one hand, it was your first time going out with Kharza in a long while and you wanted to go all out. On the other, you didn’t want to be stuck wearing uncomfortable clothes all night long.

Finally, you decided to go halfway, picking out a nice top but comfortable jeans, nice shoes but slipping an extra pair of sneakers into your bag just in case. Once you’re satisfied with your pick in clothes, you decided to leave your hair as it was out the shower, only blowdrying it briefly without brushing it out.

With your outfit complete, you grabbed your bag and keys and went out into the living room where Kharza was waiting to head out, though not before you both hyped the other’s outfit. She thankfully also went with a more casual outfit, wearing a pink crop top with a short jean skirt and black heeled boots. Her long, dark hair flowed down her back in loose waves, untamed but not entirely wild, which it usually was when she took it out her work braid. Kharza had been in the process of putting on her jean jacket to complete her look when you exited your room, and as soon as she was ready, you both left.

“What’s the name of the place again?” You asked as you both walked down the empty sidewalk looking for what Kharza claimed was ‘the best bar in town’ and ‘just down the street.’

“The sign doesn’t really match the name, but it’s named after the owner,” Kharza explained, directing you to cross the street at an intersection, “Mal’s.”

You heard the place before you saw it, the patio completely full even after the sudden rain left everything drenched. Though what made your drop was when you approached and recognized the sign, the familiar crest with the stag surrounded by brambles.

You kept your mouth shut, however, as Kharza led you inside through the crowd to a large corner filled with people of all kinds - a couple of orcs and elves, a satyr and a dryad who jumped up smiling and immediately enveloped you in a hug as Kharza introduced you to everyone else.

After brief introductions, you and Kharza head to the bar and you somehow managed to order your favorite beer from the absolutely colossal orc bartender despite the place being completely hammered.

Once you both return to the booth cradling your drinks, you get settled at the edge across from Kharza, you quickly get comfortable, engaging in the conversation with ease, the coincidence of the sign slipping from your mind as you laughed along with everyone.

Kharza always said you had a knack for making friends ever since you insisted on being her friend even when everyone else in kindergarten was wary of her as a half-orc and even went so far as to convince everyone else in your class that she was quote - the coolest and prettiest friend ever. However, tonight you had to attribute your easy assimilation with Kharza’s city friends to her having apparently talked their ears off about you, her best friend back home - including the story of how you became friends. A nice circle, you thought.

Less than an hour later, a familiar face appeared from the midst of the crowd, making you freeze in the middle of listening to the dryad, Nitidea, talk at length about their day. The newcomer squeezed in next to you, making you freeze where you were. Everyone in the group shouted over the crowd to greet the person next to you, all of them referring to him as Mal.

You don’t look up, caught by surprise and stunned into silence at the sudden appearance of the tiefling you met only a couple hours earlier with the most sour expression you’d ever seen on anyone now smiling so widely you were nearly blinded by his sharp, pearly whites. You do note that the smile does falter once his eyes finally met yours as ‘Mal’ realized not only was he sitting right next to you, but the arm he’d so carelessly draped around the person next to him was also you.

“So you were the new roommate Kharza’s been talking about,” Maledos said quietly, recovering from his initial shock with record speed once the rest of the table’s conversation shifted back to what it had been before he arrived, carefully taking his arm off you and pretending to reach for his drink while flashing a quick smile to everyone else, “I wasn’t expecting you to be…”

“Human?” You chuckle as you took a small sip of your own beer, not wanting to get buzzed too quickly, “and I wasn’t expecting the person who went out of their way to help a stranger look for their lost dog to be named Mal.”

“Maledos,” he clarified just a little too quickly, thanking the gods above that he was too red to noticeably blush as you laughed, though he wasn’t sure why he was so damn nervous in his own bar, though he suspected it may have something to do with the intensity of the stare Kharza was giving him from the other side of the table.

“Thanks again for today, I really do appreciate it,” you turn serious for a brief moment, noticing Maledos’ discomfort, which you presumed to be from how standoffish he’d been when you first met, deciding to try and ease the tension now that you apparently had mutual friends.

Giving Maledos one last nod of appreciation, you turned to rejoin the booth’s conversation, the tiefling soon loosening up as well as you pointedly didn’t make a big deal out of his entirely different demeanor. 

Most of the group had never lived outside of the city and urged you to tell them more about living in “the country” since Kharza only ever went on about how boring it was - downplaying just how wild it could be growing up in a small, half-suburb-half-farmland town could be when kids were left to make their own fun.

As you were in the middle of telling your highly engaged audience about the specifics of the after-prom house party at one of the football players’ houses your senior year, the bartender appeared and quietly extracted Maledos from the group. You glanced up as he left, conscious of the sudden loss of the body next to you but continuing the story with Kharza inputting her own memories of the event.

Some indiscernible amount of time later, you found yourself struggling to get through the crowd and to the bar to order another beer for yourself. Once you finally are able to get the bartender’s - Valbaugh, you overhear a nearby patron call him - attention and get your order in, you noticed Maledos a few feet away talking with another group of people, once again amazed by how different he could be, though you supposed since he was at work he couldn’t exactly be Mr. Resting Bitch Face, an assessment you were now comfortable with making now that you knew that wasn’t how he normally looked.

Just as you paid for your drink and were about to turn away with it, Maledos glanced up and you both made eye contact. You smiled and gave a small wave with your free hand, but instead of returning the gesture, Maledos said something to the people he was talking to and began walking over to you. Neither one of you spoke as Maledos ordered a whiskey and when he gave no indication that he was going to speak while you both drank, you finally decided to break the silence yourself.

“You need that stiff a drink to talk to me?” You quipped, already kicking yourself mentally as it seemed to have the opposite effect than you intended, Maledos attempting to explain himself rather than lightening the mood, “I was kidding, Mal. This isn’t a interrogation.”

“Right,” Maledos cleared his throat, downing the rest of his drink, “Sorry, I’m not usually- I just really didn’t expect to see you again, much less with my friends. No offense.”

“None taken. I get it,” you smile, truly not offended as you figured that was just Maledos’ personality with with people he wasn’t close to, deciding to extend the olive branch of friendship first, “So… Kharza tells me you’re the mysterious neighbor I’ve never seen around the apartment before.”

“Yeah, I’m usually here all night and just knock out once I get home,” Maledos finally relaxed, falling into easy conversation with you once he imagined he was speaking to a potential regular customer, “I come and go at odd hours, so most people with normal work schedules wouldn’t exactly run into me.”

“I’m not envious of the all nighters but it sounds nice to have days for yourself,” you marveled, “so how’d you decide you wanted to own a bar?”

“I inherited it from my mom, actually. It’s named after her, too,” Maledos explained, handing his empty glass to Valbaugh and holding up two fingers, “When she opened it, the city was still pretty segregated between the different races. She wanted to have a space that was a neutral zone.”

“Well, it definitely fits the vision she had,” you smile, turning in your chair to take a full look at the diverse crowd in a new light.

“Well, what about you?” Maledos inquired.

“What about me?”

“Why the sudden switch to big city living?” He pressed, “I mean, I get Kharza’s old roommate sucked but that’s hardly a reason to move halfway across the country.”

“You’re right,” you snort, “I was already offered a job here when Kharza told me she needed a new roommate. The pay’s good and the rent was in my budget, so I decided to just bite the bullet and come out here—”

“With Pumpkin,” Maledos finished, chuckling as you beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically in agreement. You had a nice smile, he thought offhandedly, “I’m not gonna lie - seeing that giant dog when I was expecting a chihuahua almost gave me a heart attack.”

“A chihuahua?!” You feigned indignation, the corners of your lips threatening to turn up into a smile, “I’ll have you know a lady of my stature needs a dog to match.”

At that, Maledos burst out into laughter as he commented you probably had to scale the bar stool you were sitting on when you sat down, which finally broke your own serious expression and you both were laughing uncontrollably. The rest of the night passes in a blur, you and Maledos talking at length about anything and everything with only occasional interruptions as other patrons of the bar came to say goodbye to Maledos before leaving.

“I was totally surprised to find out you were so talkative… and smile-y,” you admitted, only a little tipsy after cutting yourself off on your third beer since sitting down, “I mean, you hardly said two words to me all afternoon.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of an asshole before people get to know me, or so I’m told,” Maledos admitted, slightly embarrassed that after making so many assumptions about you, he was now actually enjoying an entire conversation with you.

At some point, Kharza comes looking for you, everyone else heading out. The orc was giving you a familiar look, one you pretend not to recognize or notice. You were shocked you’d spent so long talking to Maledos after telling everyone you were just going to buy a single beer. Maledos glanced down at his watch, looking just as dumbfounded as you.

“Shit, it’s already closing,” Maledos frowned, “Valbaugh, why didn’t you announce last call?”

“I did,” the bartender replied, rolling his eyes, though the grin on his face indicated he wasn’t truly annoyed as he added teasingly, “I guess you were too preoccupied to notice.”

You and Kharza burst out laughing as Maledos’ tail, which had up until then been lazily swishing behind him, stood straight up as he began sputtering indignantly.

“Well, we’re going to head out,” Kharza said, dropping her hands on your shoulder and about to lead you away from the bar when something finally dawns on you.

“Oh, since we’re neighbors we should exchange numbers!” You said quickly, rummaging around in your bag for your phone and completely missing the looks Valbaugh and Kharza shot Maledos.

“Don’t feel too special,” Kharza warned sarcastically, “she also got Ms. Lalshur’s and Mrs. Umekrana’s numbers the first week she moved in.”

Valbaugh snorted, but Maledos’ pointed ears perked up at the second name, “I understand Ms. Lalshur, she talks to everyone… but I’ve lived there for almost five years and Mrs. Umekrana hasn’t said more than ten words to me. And they were ‘quit making all that fucking racket on the stairs every night’.”

You bite back a smile at the jab at your cranky neighbor, handing Maledos your phone so he could add his number to your contacts and taking his offered phone in return, “she’s nice once you get to know her. But it didn’t hurt that I was able to fix her sewing machine for her the day I met her…”

After saying your final goodbyes to both Maledos and Valbaugh, you and Kharza walked back to your apartment, Kharza wasting no time interrogating you about your apparently two hour long conversation with the tiefling as soon as you exited the bar. What did you two talk about? Did he pay for your drinks? Was he flirting with you? And, most importantly, do you like him?

You barely manage to keep up with the barrage of questions, and the last question nearly makes you choke on your own spit at its abruptness. As far as Kharza knows, you’ve only just met Maledos tonight at the bar, and while it is too soon to discern any deeper feelings, you can’t deny that you had fun spending time with him, or that he was incredibly attractive. However, you reason, it wasn’t ideal to date within a friend group, especially when you had no one else you knew - if things even got that far. Frankly, you would probably just embarrass yourself developing a crush on Maledos.

In any case, it would be more trouble than what it’s worth for everyone involved and you immediately decided it would be best to avoid that road altogether, firmly denying any feelings when Kharza asked.

…

A month passed quickly since your first night at the bar. It was the go-to hangout spot for Kharza and her friends, so it was a given once you became a part of the group that you would hang out there often as well, which meant even more interactions with Maledos - the only time you’d see him despite living across the hall from each other. And whenever you went to the bar, the two of you would inevitably take up each other’s time and attention, a fact Kharza loves to claim as proof of something deeper going on between you, entirely convinced that the two of you were sneaking behind everyone’s backs no matter how often you point out that your very average conversations were nowhere near the proclamations of undying love she imagined.

Rather than convince Kharza that nothing was happening - which it wasn’t - it always managed to set her off in a long speech about how dense you were and how you wouldn’t recognize Maledos’ feelings for you if he got down on one knee before you in front of everyone, to paraphrase.

While you couldn’t deny that Maledos was attractive to your best friend, who would easily see through such blatant lies knowing full well your ‘type’ had remained largely unchanged since you were teenagers, you still stood by your decision not to complicate the dynamics of the group with undoubtedly unrequited feelings. It was just downright unlikely that a hot, successful business owner who met hundreds of people every week through his job would find you of all people particularly interesting. Especially considering the fact that Maledos hadn’t given you any sort of indication that he wanted to be anything more than friends, no matter what Kharza said about the ‘subtleties of love.’

Despite your conviction whenever you told Kharza she was reading too much into things, but that didn’t stop the part of your pride that reared its head whenever she inadvertently stroked your ego with claims that some small action showed Maledos secretly was crushing on you. Despite it feeling so very high school, it was still an addicting rush to think so and didn’t help your burgeoning feelings for the tiefling every time you saw him.

After a particularly long day at work - a visit by an important client for the company you worked for requiring all hands on deck as your boss had everyone bending over backwards for them - you fell asleep almost immediately after getting home, only taking Pumpkin out to use the bathroom by your apartment building before passing out and even bailing on Friday night drinks with everyone. So when at almost 6 in the morning Pumpkin’s whining at your bedroom door to be taken out woke you up, you rushed to get changed and take her for a much needed walk, feeling terrible for depriving her of her evening walk.

You went to the park a couple blocks away, sitting on a bench in the small dog park while you watched Pumpkin excitedly sniff around. Despite sleeping well over eight hours, you still somehow nod off, not even realizing you do until you felt someone tapping on your shoulder, eliciting a shrill scream from you.

“Gods above that was loud. And here I was trying to save you from falling off a bench,” you recognized Maledos’ teasing voice right away, twisting around in your seat to look at him leaning over the fence as Pumpkin jumped onto the bench next to you for ear scratches.

“Are you barely coming back from the bar?” You stifle a yawn behind your hand, grinning as you watched Maledos easily scale the fence to sit next to you, still apparently full of energy even after pulling an all-nighter at the bar. He was wearing the leather jacket with the bar’s logo on it - the one article of clothing you had yet to see him without in all the time you’d known him - but now he wore a plain black shirt, jeans and white sneakers as opposed to the dressier clothes he’d been wearing when you met.

“Yeah, Fridays are always our busiest nights so I usually have to stay until the next morning,” Maledos sighed, draping himself over you melodramatically with one arm thrown over his face in mock despair, “I was bored all night without you there. Why did you leave me all alone?”

“Oh, I’m sure you were absolutely lonely in the bar surrounded by 800 of your closest friends,” you snarked, nudging Maledos in his side to get him off. You stifle down your soaring emotions at his remarks, knowing that Maledos’ words were far from flirtatious.

You had long since realized that the tiefling was very much like a cat in that respect - an aloof brick wall to those he didn’t know but incredibly needy with those he was close to - though you couldn't help the swell of pride that came with thought that he preferred having you around over anyone else. It certainly didn’t help dampen your growing crush on the man.

“And what are you doing sitting around in a dimly lit park this early?” Maledos asked, finally sitting up but still draping his arms around the back of the bench.

“I fell asleep early and didn’t get a chance to walk her,” you replied, placing both palms on either side of Pumpkin’s face and squishing the excess skin, making the dog grow so excited her whip-like tail began swinging right dangerously close to Maledos’ arm, “but when else would I be able to run into my night owl of a neighbor?”

Maledos snorted, the two of you beginning to joke around with each other while you sat, mostly about a certain couple on the first floor who was seemingly constantly arguing. You thought it was just in the middle of the night, but Maledos assured you they also kept him up during the day when all he wanted to do was sleep.

As the sky rapidly lightened overhead, Pumpkin started tugging on her leash in your hand, a sign that she was ready to go. Maledos walked with you through the park and back towards the apartment building in a comfortable silence, Pumpkin sticking close to Maledos’ side since he pet her while you walked.

“Oh yeah, Ms. Lalshur tells me you baked her the best cookies she’s ever tasted when you first moved in,” Maledos mentioned as he held the building door open for you, “gotta admit I feel a little left out.”

“I gave some to everyone on our floor, but somebody never answered their door when I knocked,” you said as you started up the stairs with Pumpkin.

“Y’know, I think I remember looking through my peephole and seeing a girl scout once…” Maledos tapped his finger on his cheek while feigning a contemplative look, though he was soon doubling over in laughter as you shoved him for the jab, though he doesn’t even budge.

“Well you can forget tasting any of my baking skills, mister,” you scoffed, turning as though you were going to stomp to your apartment door.

“Hold on, I’m sorry, please give me—shit!” Maledos tried to follow behind you, but neither of you noticed Pumpkin standing between you, the large tiefling falling forward as he tried to avoid hurting her and stumbling over his own feet.

Maledos fortunately caught himself on the wall, effectively caging you between his muscular arms as he hunched over you, your faces mere centimeters apart just short of a collision that would have surely left you both concussed - you worse if his horns had knocked into you.

You let out a chuckle to try and ease the tension, but it comes out too airy, made worse as you tried to joke, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you tripped on purpose, Mal.”

Maledos’ expression softened at the nickname you so rarely used for him in favor of his full name despite how universal it was for everyone else. He broke into a small grin, beginning to say something when the door across the hall slammed open and Mrs. Umekrana walked out into the hall with her trash in one hand and a cigarette in another, interrupting.

“You can’t keep it in your fucking pants until you get into your apartment, Maledos?” She muttered, continuing towards the stairs and taking a long drag that somehow doesn’t set off any of the smoke detectors.

The two of you watched the willowy-looking drow disappear down the stairwell like deer in headlights, the moment quickly hurtling towards uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know Mrs. Umekrana even knew my name,” Maledos said weakly, the first to break the silence as he quickly stepped away from you and loudly cleared his throat.

You were still struggling to catch your breath, not wanting to sound too flustered when you finally responded, though you were fortunately spared from the awkward situation as Pumpkin began whining to go inside beside you.

“It was good seeing you, Maledos,” you said with an only slightly strained smile, unlocking your apartment door and waving one last time before finally shutting the door and able to let out a deep breath you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind and heart were racing as you took off Pumpkin’s harness, relieved Kharza was such a heavy sleeper. Obviously unable to sleep after that, you tossed and turned in your bed as you wondered what would have happened - if anything at all - had Mrs. Umekrana hadn’t decided to take out her trash at that very moment.

Finally giving up on sleep, you got up and ventured into the kitchen, Pumpkin not moving from her spot on the bed. It was already 9 o’clock, which meant if your started baking now you could be done in an hour.

You quickly set to work, gathering all the necessary ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator while the oven preheated. Rather than make cookies, you decide to go with brownies since they were much easier to prepare.

Kharza wandered into the kitchen after you’ve already set the pan of mix in the oven, futilely pushing back her bedhead as she watched you pretend to scroll through your phone and look at anywhere but her while you sat at the dining table.

“Brownies? Who’re you bringing out the big guns for?” Kharza yawned as she leaned on the island counter with her chin resting on her palm.

“I’m not bringing out anything,” you replied, pressing the oven light to watch the brownies’ progress despite only just putting it in, keeping your voice even as you nonchalantly add “I’m just making Maledos some brownies.”

“Oh, Maledos, I should have known.” You don’t even need to look up to know Kharza was wiggling her eyebrows with a knowing smirk, her tone saying it all.

You don’t bother to make a reply, any defense of your actions only feeding into her conviction. You definitely could not tell Kharza about what had transpired hours earlier - no matter how badly you needed her advice on the matter. It would only make her more convinced that you and Maledos were an item and Kharza would no doubt tease Maledos with the information, which would make it obvious you were overthinking things with him when nothing actually happened and you couldn’t risk Maledos finding out your feelings like that.

By the time Kharza left on her morning jog with Pumpkin, you had already taken the brownies out the oven and placed the pan in the fridge to cool before cutting them into squares. After stacking two thirds of them onto a plate and sending a quick text to Maledos about coming over, you leave your apartment to go down the hall.

It took you a minute of pacing back and forth in front of his door to gather up the courage to knock, praying that Maledos was even awake. However, before your lifted hand can even make contact with the door, it was swinging open, Maledos standing before you before you can even jump from the sudden movement, your mouth slack in surprise.

“I- uh- got your text,” Maledos explained, standing aside to let you inside. He had changed into a plain white t-shirt and sweats, his hair still dripping obviously fresh from a shower. 

As you walked into the apartment, you were struck by how different it appeared from your and Kharza’s, even with the exact same layout and fixtures. The interior definitely suited Maledos - a lot of steel grays with black splashed here and there, all very modern. The entire apartment was impeccable, ripped straight from a catalogue, a show apartment for tours rather than a home and definitely not one lived in for the last five years. However, it made sense considering Maledos spent most of his free time in the apartment sleeping, the rest in the bar, so it was a given the apartment wouldn’t be messy.

You set the plate down on the kitchen counter, nearly running face to chest into Maledos when you turned around just as he was reaching around you for a piece.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, ducking around him and not looking at Maledos as you felt your cheeks burning. In turn, you missed how Maledos turned to watch you make your way to his bookshelf, reading the spines but not daring to move your hands from your sides lest you mess up the order of everything.

Unbeknownst to you, Maledos had also been unable to sleep after the almost-something in the hallway. He had laid in his bed, wide awake and texting his older sister, who had been less than pleased to be woken up so early on a Saturday but easily placated with the news that Maledos of all people was having girl troubles.

He had been surprised as well. For years running the bar had been his life, everything else put on the back burner to that goal. He was good at that. Successful, even. But in romance, short flings and one night stands were his forte, not pining over his neighbor or a friend’s best friend - in your case, both. You were growing increasingly important to him and he knew for a fact you didn’t deserve having to deal with his ineptitude in longterm relationships. You were someone who baked cookies for your neighbors in your free time and helped old ladies fix their ancient singer sewing machines. You just came over with a plate full of brownies just because he mentioned he wanted to try your baking that morning.

Not to mention he would be risking your friendship if you didn’t even feel the same way. There was simply too much at stake for him, preferring to keep his feelings closely guarded and never acted on.

But all that care and caution was all thrown out the moment he would see you - just as he had this morning while walking back home from the bar. He had needed to rest, wake up before noon and go back to do the expenses. Instead, he found himself already walking over to you and tapping your shoulder, reveling in how all drowsiness dissipated from your expression upon seeing him and the way the corners of your eyes crinkled as you flashed him the widest grin - unconscientious, unabashed in wearing your heart on your sleeve.

“Maledos?” You asked again, jumping up to wave your hand in front of his eyes and drawing him back to reality, “You were spacing out pretty hard. Are you okay?”

“Of course!” It came out too forced, you certainly looked unconvinced. He laughed sheepishly, “Sorry, the all nighters are starting to get to me. What happened?”

“I said Kharza and I were going to go for drinks tonight since we didn’t get a chance to go out last night,” you reiterated, curious of what he had been thinking but respecting his decision not to share, “Maybe you could go with us? I think you could definitely use a night off. You seem tired. Get away from the bar for a night, scope out the competition. I’m sure Valbaugh and the others can hold down the fort.”

The concern you showed for him made a surge of emotion rise up in Maledos, bringing forth a wide smile before he could stop himself, agreeing to go with you. And Kharza.

“Great,” you clapped your hands together in excitement, heading towards the door with a wave, “See you tonight, then. I’ll text you.”

“See you tonight,” Maledos repeated back, returning you wave and standing in the middle of his foyer for a good five minutes after you’d closed the door behind you.

His phone alarm finally sounded, rousing him from his stupor rather than a nap and telling him it was time to go back to the bar. Dismissing it, Maledos opened up his recent calls and dialed Valbaugh to let him know he would be taking the night off.

[hippychick006]

Misha Panel 

I’ve done this summary as it helps to have what Misha actually says to hand as more often than not, his stans misquote him. It’s also useful as Misha often changes things - as he appears to have done between his last virtual panel and this one. Note, I’m only focusing on the key parts where he talks about the show/Jared/Jensen.  It is not free of anti castiel/misha comments where I disagree, though those are few and far between for a change. It’s long so putting under a cut... 

- Misha confirms his filming finished in March prior to Covid [this comes up later in more detail].  Watching the last epiosode was an emotional experience for him.  For him, it represents the end of a chapter of his life. 

- Misha says fandoms not going anywhere [*hisses]

- Misha’s future work/projects?: working on senate race in georgia, publishing a book of poetry, couple of film projects he’s trying to get off the ground, one he’s not acting/directing in, the other he may act and/or direct 

- Jack brought Cass back but we didn’t get to see it, what happened?: different ending originally that Covid restrictions made impossible to produce. Cool ending involved bringing back lots of cast members over the years.  In the original ending, Castiel hadn’t gone to rebuild heaven, there was a different conclusion for him.  Misha purposely did not read the last two episodes before they aired as he wanted to be an audience member. He knew a little about Castiel/Jack’s fate in the abstract, but because he wasn’t in it, he doesn’t know what the answer was. He thinks them rebuilding heaven was less boots on the ground and more at a spiritual level [so he’s talking at the metaphysical/spiritual plane level and not corporeal) so they are everywhere (e.g. in drops of rain as per Jack’s speech to Sam in 19). That’s what I’m understanding at least.  He says that’s pure speculation though.]

- what qualities does castiel have similar to Misha?: there are a lot of similar qualities [backstabber comes immediately to my mind tbh]. Over time he and the character melded. Over time he evolved into something that didn’t quite fit in with either angels or humanity, he felt like an outsider which Misha has felt for much of his life. He became softer, more sensitive, he tried to do the right thing and be a good person. Oh wow, he says that in order to write to play to Misha’s strengths, the character had to “morph a bit”.  I loved bad!ass Castiel, he’s my favourite Castiel!

- What one thing will he take with him from playing Castiel?: on a professional level, it was fascinating to play a character for so many years. He discussed with J2 recently that the characters really became part of them. He doesn’t think that will happen again, just due to length of time the played them. On watching Jensen’s death scene, he cried but it was more “That’s Cass’ friend Dean dying”  It was weird to have a blurring of lines between yourself and your character but he thinks that’s what happened with all of them. He’ll take the character away, which will be a part of him forever. 

- Misha made fortune cookes and put inside lewd and inappropriate fortunes

[I don’t get this next bit as earlier in the panel he says he didn’t read the last two episodes so didn’t know what was going to happen and gave the answer I documented above and now we have this next question where his answer seems to contradict that]:

- Is there anything more he can say about the originally planned finale?:  He doesn’t want to be the one to reveal these state secrets, but what are they going to do, fire him?  He feels someone might have said to him, please don’t reveal what was going to happen, but can’t remember for sure if it’s true. He says there was a version of Sam and Dean’s heaven that was populated with all of the people that were from their past that they have come to love.  They could not do that because of Covid restrictions. 

- Favourite behind the scenes memory of “The boys”: He doesn’t have a favourite memory, they were close friends for 12 years. They had laughing fits and fights and got pissed off at each other. Some of his fondest memories of being at work anywhere were working on Supernatural.  He’s never going to be on a set again where there is so much mirth so he’s going to miss that for sure.

- he’s talking about Castiel’s wardrobe which is actually funny - e.g. original suit 3 sizes to big, sometimes showing blood and holes, sometimes being magically fixed, not wearing a tie, going back to wearing a tie... “Nobody complained about that too much...” [uh because some of us were watching other things and your own stans were looking at the background.]  He stole some trenchcoats and has them in his closet.

- How do you prepare for emotional scenes?: it’s hard for him to get into that emotional state. To prepare for the Castiel’s declaration of love scene and taken by the empty, Misha needs to be off by himself and not chatting with people, so for that scene he sat on his own in a dark corner of the stage and ruminated on his own.  Rob Hayter, stunt coordinator, noticed and stood sentinel and made sure no one disturbed him which Misha said was really sweet.  Everyone stopped fucking around for that scene to allow them to do what they needed to do.

-  How did you feel when you read the script when Castiel dies?: Misha knew for a long time that ending was coming, he’d been speaking to Rob Berens about it, he was really happy with it.  It was the ending he’d wanted for Cass so when he read the script, he was really happy it had made it to the page [i bet it was Misha, how are those destiel sales going through your Stands company?]. It felt it was a little “risky and a little brave” for the show to do [on a fucking network that is number one in Glaad reviews?  Are you being fucking serious right now?] He was happy to be a part of that [again sales] and have that character express love like that so he was happy with it. 

[Okay, so notice in his last virtual panel 2 weeks ago, he was very happy, he’s now starting to do exactly what he did with Karla movie as he goes on to say...]

He’s seen “some people” [you mean lgbtq+ people?!]  “complaining” about this is playing into the “bury the gays” trope which is an insidious and real trope in film and television storytelling in h/w over the years. Misha doesn’t think that’s what was happening with Castiel’s [he died second after the confession MIsha!] First of all Castiel isn’t dead, he’s in heaven working to rebuild it... [you didn’t know this 2 weeks ago, as far as you knew Castiel died and went to the empty].  So much good came from that declaration, because Cass was able to save Dean, which was essential to saving the world, so this declaration wasn’t so then fate strikes you down and you’re done forever. The declaration literally ended up saving the world. It was of Cass’ own volition, he wasn’t forced to do it, it was his choice, and he thinks that’s important, so maybe he’s naieve and doesn’t feel they are playing into that trope. 

[You were absolutely playing into that trope Misha and you didn’t give a shit as you did no research on playing an lgbtq+ character so sincerely fuck off]

He’s glad that Castiel got to express that and have that ending. He thinks thats kind of important and he’s proud the show did that. [again fuck off, this was done for you and it showed]  He thinks its a conversation they will continue to have as they continue to dissect it going forward [nope, consigned to the dumpster fire I’ve put the majority of the rest of Drabbernatural in]

- Do you think you will ever get an SPN tattoo?:  He doesn’t have any but he’s thinking about getting tattoos relating to his children.  Is that a sign of desperation that a true hasbeen will do? Should he get a tattoo of Jared and Jensen’s face.  He could get a tattoo of Castiel’s face on his abdomen.  He’s saying probably not. If they want to get one, totally supportive of that

-  what is his favourite moment of the finale?: Dean’s death scene, masterfully executed, excellent performances from both Jared and Jensen in that scene and made him cry

- best memory of your last day on the supernatural set?: everyone being really sweet, lot of tears from cast and crew. The last scene he shot as Castiel was the last scene of the day on a Friday. Him, Alex, Richard S and Jensen all had to get to Las Vegas for a fan convention the next morning. They shot late and finished at 1.30, it was Cass goodbye and Misha’s goodbye to the show.  He said they had to get a chartered flight because of the early flight [not sure why he’s saying this as I thought it was Jared’s plane they all travelled in?] He’s talking about going back - because of the issue with the plane - and they are all texting family, saying they love them, so it was such a strange night, he’d said goodbye to Supernatural, he said goodbye to Castiel and later on said goodbye to his kids because they thought they were going to die that night. :(

[Going to add that this puts to rest that Misha was due back for 19 and 20 even before covid, it confirms he was not going to be in either episode, though I maintain, they may have shot an extra scene while they had him to slot into 19 or 20]

- do you think Cass and the other angels got their wings back?: Yes, probably, they have Jack who is the new god. What a long and miserable experience that was of not having wings. Cass was so powerful when he started, he could snap his fingers and teleport and time travel and lost that with his broken wings and they didn’t come back. He doesn’t know why they didn’t fix him as Castiel would have been a much more powerful ally if he didn’t have to drive around in the pimp mobile [uh, for the same reason Sam lost his powers, deus ex machina]. He tells the story of Jared pressing buttons in the car causing the hydraulics to fail costing $10000 of repair.

- in your opinion, what colour are Castiels wings?: shit, I don’t know, I always thought they were black, but now that you’ve said that, they are rainbow coloured, how about that?

- What is the worst joke Jared and Jensen did to you?: [*cough fans looking for things to complain about or hate Jared on]: Jared and Jensen, as you know, they are not good people.  He talks about directing an episode and they got excited in the week before, they were going to break into his apartment and steal his furniture, they had all kinds of nefarious plans, the crew tipped him off and told him to watch his home and car keys. They put a fish under the seat in his car and one of the crew told him.  Jared removed the canvas on the director’s chair and laid it across so it looked like it was still the chair. Misha fell for that at least 5 times. That was pretty frustrating. Jared kept messing up his lines (which Misha said Jared never does) and Misha was directing in another room, Misha eventually went to see what the problem was and that’s when Jared pied him in the face. Everyone in the crew was complicit in the “assault”. Jensen brought him another shirt, said, “I’m sorry man, that’s sucks, that was too much.”  Jensen then pied him in the face.

- What is the real story behind the handprint in the finale?: Um I don't know, but I think it was a nice touch, that was a really lovely callback that worked well. I can’t remember how we came up with that, or was it in the script, I can’t remember. Wasn’t it a good callback to the very beginning. [Again, this appears to differ from what was being reported two weeks ago so might need to go back to that panel if I can get access to it]

-What’s your favourite memory from offline/online panels?: It’s much more fun to be live and in person. I don’t know, I have had some really fun... [PANDERING ALERT COMING UP] Jensen and I have some really fun panels together in Rome.  I don’t know why but we always just seem to have a real hoot there, talks about the resume off, they really enjoyed that. He had pizza delivered to a creation panel once.  He talks about the Saturday night special and he can’t wait till they can get back to that. 

[NOTE CYNICAL PART OF THIS IS FOR HIS FANBASE TO ONCE AGAIN CLAMOUR FOR MORE JENMISH PANELS. I DO NOT TRUST THIS MAN AT ALL]

- What was your favourite version of Castiel to play?: he had the most fun playing Lucifer because Mark P had left a great template to play Lucifer [you took the worst parts imo but Mark fucked his character up too]. He enjoyed playing the human parts of Castiel because it was fun to explore how to be human for the first time. Overall, just regular Cass. He wouldn’t have wanted to trade regular Castiel for other iterations. [A great question would be badass Castiel v late season wooby castiel preference]

[perfecttimeseleven]

https://open.spotify.com/episode/599XTxnDzzcJibnEaEjPdb?si=e9ce5c51fbdb474e

PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN EP. 7 TRANSCRIPT

ACT TWO SCENE ONE Lights rise on a table and two chairs in an otherwise empty-seeming room. THIEF #1 and THIEF #2 are seated at the table, examining a laptop. They’re both young; even younger than REMINGTON, JAY, and DAISY (think 13 or 14.) They’re unassuming — cute little kids, even — dressed in all black. THIEF #2 (bored) When you said “surprise job for our two-month anniversary”, I thought we’d like, I don’t know, kiss with tongue. THIEF #1 Yeah, but this is just as good. THIEF #2 Do you care about kissing with tongue at all? THIEF #1 Babe, of course I do. I just think -- THIEF #2 It’s just heist after heist all the time. The only thing you don’t seem to care about stealing is my heart. THIEF #1 Babe, it’s what we do. THIEF #2 Besides, it’s a crap job. Robbing a supermarket? A supermarket? That’s the most boring junk I’ve ever heard. THIEF #1 Don’t you trust me? THIEF 2 You’re a bank robber. THIEF 1 You’re a bank robber. THIEF 2 Okay, that’s fair. I just…will this be worth it at all? I know you have trouble grasping the fact that we’re now fricking loaded. We’re not little please-sir orphans snatching heads of lettuce from farmer’s markets anymore. We’ve stepped up our game. What’s so special about this supermarket? THIEF #1 Trust me. This will be an easy, fun night out. What’s not special about it? THIEF #2 Why are we wasting our time? We could be preparing for the Minecraft job. Or kissing with tongue. And…and, and, and…you’re not even taking the proper precautions. I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to get caught robbing a stupid supermarket, of all things. Like imagine it! You get cornered in the...I don’t know, produce aisle or something stupid like that and the headlines are all “two kids got caught stealing from the Shoprite off the highway” — who wants that? (THIEF #1 stands up. 11. Super Supermarket Heist.) THIEF #1 (pointing at the laptop screen) LOOK. ALL RIGHT, WE’VE GOT OUR TARGET HERE. THIS LOCAL SUPERMARKET. YOU KNOW YOUR JOB, YOUR INSTRUCTION — THIEF #2 (standing up) I THINK WE NEED SOME MORE DISCUSSION. THIEF #1 IT’S A QUAINT UNPOPULATED SPOT WE KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT, AND THAT’S NOT A LOT! THIEF #2 WHERE’S THE FUN? WHY NOT GO BIGGER AND PULL OUT ALL THE STOPS THIEF #1 AND PULL THE TRIGGER? THIEF #2 Fine. I guess you have a point. I’ll do it. But you better watch a sweet, romantic movie with me later. THIEF #1 Is it — THIEF #2 Cats 2019. I know you hate it. THIEF #1 Fine. THIEF #1 YEAH, WE’RE GONNA MAKE YOU STOP AND SHOP NOW PUT YOUR HANDS ON TOP OF YOUR HEAD OR YOU’RE DEAD OH YEAH, THAT’S WHAT WE SAID GRAB THE CASH, THEN DASH OUT THE BACK AROUND THE TRASH THIEF #2 WILL THAT WORK? THIEF #1 (exasperated) JESUS CHRIST! THIEF #1/THIEF #2 A SUPER SUPERMARKET HEIST! WE’RE GONNA MAKE YOU STOP AND SHOP NOW PUT YOUR HANDS ON TOP OF YOUR HEAD OR YOU’RE DEAD OH YEAH, THAT’S WHAT WE SAID! SIT TIGHT OR WE’LL FIGHT OH, THIS AIN’T THE NIGHT TO BE STUCK UNSUPERVISED IN A SUPER SUPERMARKET HEIST! THIEF #2 YOU KEEP ON SAYING THIS’LL BE A CAKEWALK. ALL OF THIS “NOTHING MUCH AT STAKE” TALK! HOW CAN YOU KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT? WE NEED TO PREPARE FOR ANY THREAT THIEF #1 I’VE GOT INSIDER INFO FROM MY SOURCE. I TRUST HER. SECURITY TONIGHT WILL BE LACKLUSTER. RIGHT NOW, WE WILL JUST SIT TIGHT. AT EIGHT O’CLOCK, WE’LL SHOP RITE! THIEF #1/THIEF #2 WE’RE GONNA MAKE YOU STOP AND SHOP THIEF #1 AND NOT A SINGLE COP WILL SEE, TRUST ME, THIEF #1/THIEF #2 IT’LL BE EASY! GRAB THE CASH, THEN DASH IN AND OUT IN A FLASH! CATCH THEM BY SURPRISE! A SUPER SUPERMARKET HEIST. WE’RE GONNA MAKE YOU STOP AND SHOP NOW PUT YOUR HANDS ON TOP OF YOUR HEAD OR YOU’RE DEAD OH YEAH, THAT’S WHAT WE SAID! SIT TIGHT OR WE’LL FIGHT OH, THIS AIN’T THE NIGHT TO BE STUCK UNSUPERVISED IN A SUPER SUPERMARKET HEIST! THIEF #2 I just…this is so out of nowhere. We usually plan these together. THIEF #1 I wanted to surprise you. You’ve been so stressed. I didn’t want to add the stress of planning a fun anniversary outing on top of that. THIEF #1 I KNOW

THINGS HAVE BEEN ROUGH — THIEF #2 YOU’RE NOT AN OPEN BOOK. THIEF #1 BUT THAT’S EXACTLY WHY WE CAN’T GIVE UP HOPE AND — THIEF #2 LOOK. WE’VE GONE DOWNHILL. ADMIT IT. IT SURE SHOWS! BANKS WERE OUR TRADE, NOT TRADER JOE’S! THIEF #1 SURE, WE’VE DONE MUCH COOLER JOBS WITHOUT MUCH  CONSEQUENCE BUT A SMALL VICTORY WILL BOOST OUR CONFIDENCE! THIEF #2 DOING IT TOGETHER IS WHAT MATTERS MOST TO ME ART MUSEUM OR BANK OR MALL OR…I GUESS GROCERY THIEF #1 Yeah? THIEF #2 Yeah! THIEF #1/THIEF #2 SUPER SUPERMARKET, SUPER SUPERMARKET, SUPER SUPERMARKET, SUPER SUPERMARKET, SUPER SUPERMARKET, SUPER SUPERMARKET, SUPERMARKET HEIST! YEAH, YOU’LL STOP AND SHOP NOW PUT YOUR HANDS ON TOP OF YOUR HEAD OR YOU’RE DEAD OH YEAH, THAT’S WHAT WE SAID! SIT TIGHT OR WE’LL FIGHT OH, THIS AIN’T THE NIGHT TO BE STUCK UNSUPERVISED IN A SUPER SUPERMARKET HEIST! WE’RE GONNA MAKE YOU STOP AND SHOP NOW PUT YOUR HANDS ON TOP OF YOUR HEAD OR YOU’RE DEAD OH YEAH, THAT’S WHAT WE SAID! SIT TIGHT OR WE’LL FIGHT OH, THIS AIN’T THE NIGHT TO BE STUCK UNSUPERVISED IN A SUPERMARKET WE’RE ARMED AND DISGUISED IT’S A SUPERMARKET GROSSLY OVERPRICED IT’S A SUPER SUPERMARKET HEIST! (THIEF #1 and THIEF #2 exit.)

ACT TWO

SCENE TWO

The lights rise on REMINGTON and HP. REMINGTON is sitting next to a Dumpster in the back alley behind a restaurant. HP is squatting beside her, picking at a piece of crumpled paper and tossing its remnants into a small trash can that he hugs with one arm. REMINGTON is wearing floral shorts and a tattered, half-tucked in Domino’s employee shirt. HP is still in his original outfit, although he’s ditched the rainbow scarf and his jacket. Those can be seen laying on the other side of the Dumpster, next to the wall in a pile of other fabrics that seem to comprise a makeshift bed. The two kids have a half-empty and surprisingly fresh-looking Domino’s pizza box in front of them. REMINGTON is snacking on one of the last pieces. REMINGTON Okay. I’ve been doin’ some big brain thinking. Superhero names. HP (turning his head sharply from the paper) Hm? REMINGTON Let’s do a little word association, okay? Test the power, the wow-factor that these names hold. Ready? HP Mmkay. I like to word associate. REMINGTON What comes to mind when you hear the word...Flambé? (HP pauses, looking up contemplatively, before turning his head back to REMINGTON.) HP Shrimp? REMINGTON Nooo, like…I don’t know. (takes a bite of the pizza) Doesn’t it sound fancy? Like ain’t it French or something? (receives no reaction from HP) Okay. Okay. How about...the Remedy? HP (squints a little in confusion) What? Like medicines? Medicines and pills and little maggots in bowls? REMINGTON Like, my name is Remington, but there’s not much you can do with Remy or Remington that isn’t Ratatouille — (sees HP’s blank face, gives up) I’ll think of more names. (takes another bite of her pizza) Mm. Domino’s could beat up Papa John in a fight. (HP finishes tearing up the piece of paper and jumps to his feet.) HP Your break is almost over. You need to get back to work. REMINGTON No. The voices hurt. I’m lazy! HP One fire by the end of the day. That is our rule. REMINGTON (reluctantly dropping his half-finished slice in the pizza box) One spark. HP No, one fire. You’ve passed the spark level. (HP offers REMINGTON his hands, which REMINGTON takes. HP effortlessly pulls REMINGTON to her feet.) HP C’mon! It’s easy! (REMINGTON reluctantly unclasps her bracelet and tosses it aside. 12. Perfect Times Eleven.) HP NOW DEEP DOWN, THERE’S A FIRE GROWING STRONG JUST LET THEM HELP YOU SET IT FREE, REMINGTON LONG! IMMERSE YOURSELF IN VOICES, AIM THEIR ENERGY AT ONE SPOT! CAN YOU FEEL YOUR INSIDES SORTA GETTING HOT? REMINGTON Yeah, but it doesn’t feel healthy... HP ONCE YOUR BRAIN WIDENS, GIVE IN TO PRIMAL DRIVES, YOU’LL GAIN ENERGY FROM ALL YOUR PAST LIVES NOT JUST THE ONES YOU HEAR SINGING! REMINGTON What do you mean? HP WHETHER ANIMAL OR HUMAN, THEY WILL BE BRINGING YOU ENERGY! AND THAT’S THE KEY! IT SWELLS UP IN YOUR BRAIN! LET IT PLUMMET DOWN LIKE RAIN ONTO YOUR GOAL HP/REMINGTON THIS ENERGY IN YOU AND ME, ALL OF IT COMES FROM THE MOMENT WE BECOME ONE WITH THE SOUL AND OUR SOULS HAVE BEEN PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN REMINGTON WHICH MAKES US NOW GODS AMONG MEN HP WE COULD BURN AWAY ALL LIFE AND CREATE THE WORLD AGAIN REMINGTON THAT’S A LITTLE EXTREME, BUT SURE, I SUPPOSE. AT LEAST ONCE I'M TRAINED, WE CAN LEAVE THIS TENT BEHIND A DOMINO’S! HP/REMINGTON PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN, A UNIVERSAL LOTTERY WIN! NATURALLY MORE DISPOSED TO FREE THE ENERGY WITHIN! TIME AND SPACE WILL JUMBLE AND CRUMBLE AT MY HAND I’M A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX WITH REALITY AT MY COMMAND! HP STARTING LITTLE FIRES IS THE EASIEST TO MASTER! AFTERWARDS, YOU’LL LEARN TELEKINESIS FASTER TO SET A FIRE, GIVE YOUR SOUL’S ENERGY A TOSS! SCOOP UP A BIT OF THAT TIME AND SPACEY SAUCE THROW IT OUT OF YOURSELF AND JUST LET IT ALL GO THE HUGE AMOUNT OF ENERGY WILL SET SHIT AGLOW AND AFTER YOU CAN GET FUN LITTLE FIRES TO START, MASTERING THE REST OF IT’S THE EASIER PART HP/REMINGTON ‘CAUSE ENERGY IS THE KEY! IT SWELLS UP IN YOUR BRAIN! LET IT PLUMMET DOWN LIKE RAIN ONTO YOUR GOAL THIS ENERGY IN YOU AND ME, ALL OF IT COMES FROM THE MOMENT WE

BECOME ONE WITH THE SOUL AND OUR SOULS HAVE BEEN PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN, THE LUCK OF THE DRAW REMINGTON IS BEING A REALLY GREAT TEACHER ONE OF YOUR POWERS? ‘CAUSE I AM IN AWE. HP WELL, TEACHING YOU’S AS FUN AS MAKING ANIMALS COMBUST! REMINGTON THANK YOU…THAT’S A COMPLIMENT, I TRUST? HP/REMINGTON PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN, A UNIVERSAL LOTTERY WIN! NATURALLY MORE DISPOSED TO FREE THE ENERGY WITHIN! TIME AND SPACE WILL JUMBLE AND CRUMBLE AT MY HAND I’M A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX WITH REALITY AT MY COMMAND! HP Now, concentrate! Feel it build up inside you until every cell of your body feels like it’s screaming! REMINGTON Ahhhh! This shit hurts! HP And let it go! (REMINGTON propels her hands forward in one strenuous motion. There’s a whooshing noise and the inside of the trash can is now impressively aflame.) HP That’s it! REMINGTON That was my best one so far! HP/REMINGTON WE’RE PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN! A ONCE-IN-A-BLUE-MOON CHANCE, WE'RE EXISTENT AND ALIVE AGAINST ALL CIRCUMSTANCE! HP IT’S GREAT TO BE BETTER THAN HUMAN! REMINGTON EH. IT’S OKAY. IT’S GREAT TO LIVE WITH YOU IN THIS ABANDONED ALLEYWAY! HP/REMINGTON PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN, A UNIVERSAL LOTTERY WIN! NATURALLY MORE DISPOSED TO FREE THE ENERGY WITHIN! TIME AND SPACE WILL JUMBLE AND CRUMBLE AT MY HAND I’M A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX WITH REALITY AT MY COMMAND! (REMINGTON, perhaps spurred by the vigor of the musical number, is ready to go apeshit with the fire. She concentrates on the pizza box.) REMINGTON’S VOICES AHH! (She manages to set the pizza box on fire.) HP Yes! Nice! REMINGTON’S VOICES AHH! (REMINGTON manages to start a fire from somewhere inside the Domino’s — we can see a faint flicker through the window.) HP You’re doing so good! REMINGTON’S VOICES AHH! (REMINGTON sets all of the nearby Dumpster’s contents on fire. Spectacular!) HP Fantastic! (REMINGTON victoriously embraces HP, who attempts to spin her around. REMINGTON then takes HP’s hand. They skip around a little/dance giddily amid the blaze.) HP/REMINGTON PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN, A UNIVERSAL LOTTERY WIN! NATURALLY MORE DISPOSED TO FREE THE ENERGY WITHIN! TIME AND SPACE WILL JUMBLE AND CRUMBLE AT MY HAND I’M A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX WITH THE WORLD AT MY COMMAND! (pausing in a triumphant pose center stage) PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN! (REMINGTON and HP freeze in their triumphant pose. Somewhere behind them, a burning piece of cardboard unceremoniously falls out of the Dumpster. Blackout.)

[voidlitmoon]

Familiar Faces, Connected Stories

4 months later, @sugarglider9603 I finally finished the second half!! :D Ohmygosh I'm so sorry for the wait, but thank you all for being so patient, alot has happened including the absolutely dreaded writers block. All of your comments, likes/kudos, reblogs (on Tumblr) have been helping me finish this chapter, so I really want to thank you guys for enjoying this💙💙💙💙

Another important note, but there is a reason I'm posting this today. That's because today (April 2nd) is my 16th birthday! I actually finished this on Monday (March 30th) but I decided to wait the few days so it would be a bit more special (also yes I know it's late I'm posting this, imma be busy all day so night posting it is!)

Also dont worry, if your new here (go check out the previous stories in the Master Post link!) do note I'm going to be writing my interpretation of the pokebois evolutions :D that and more short side stories are coming asap

Alright I've held you long enough, do enjoy!

Bonus note: this fic (Runaway Eevees) is what Sugar has said cannonly happened of how Remus and Deceit met the group, so if you wanna read that go ahead (it's a good read) :D

Ao3 link

Ao3 series link

Part 5 (chapter 1) Part 6

Master Post

Words: 2,931

Summery: ' Virgil's eyes widened "you've all met before" he looked at all five Eevee's faces, finding guilt in three and confusion in the other two "when, how? Was it before I met all of you?" He scratched at the ground.

His brother-father figure perked up behind him "you.. never told him?" He questioned the three trained Eevees, who all shuffled their feet. "We didn't want to worry him?" Roman tried, only for his trash brother to growl. '

The group will finally tell their stories, revealing past connections, and making new ones for the journey ahead

Chapter 2

Virgil watched as Thomas set his hands on Roman and Logan's backs, putting a halt on the growling. Well, for now at least.

He inwardly sighed, he knew the others where protective, heck he himself was being protective of his brothers at the moment. But this much hostility to other pokemon he obviously knew? He even saw Patton's tail twitching, as though the father figure wanted to pull Virgil away but was resisting.

He remembered when he first met this group of misfits, that field of flowers where Patton taught him how to make flower crowns. Yes Logan was sitting out, but Roman pounced at any opportunity to play with any wild pokemon, and Patton came right over to join the dark furred Eevee the second he showed himself. Them acting this way around pokemon they never met..

Virgil's eyes widened "you've all met before" he looked at all five Eevee's faces, finding guilt in three and confusion in the other two "when, how? Was it before I met all of you?" He scratched at the ground.

His brother-father figure perked up behind him "you.. never told him?" He questioned the three trained Eevees, who all shuffled their feet. "We didn't want to worry him?" Roman tried, only for his trash brother to growl.

"Well!" Thomas clapped, startling them all "I'm guessing you guys need to talk about something, and since language barriers exist and food still needs to be cooked, I'm going to go burn that. Don't faint each other!" The trainer stood up from his chair making his way to the pile of berries, leaving several Eevees that probably would faint each other before speaking a word.

Virgil huffed, suspicious and annoyed "alright, first things first!" He chirped in a light tone, though it was clear the growl that accompanied it reached all the others ears "would anyone mind telling me how you've all met?"

______________________________

"-and then you woke up with no knowledge of what went down, so we just didn't tell you" Roman finished lamely. All five Eevees had taken their own bits and pieces of the story to tell, mainly because when two started arguing Virgil would hiss them down. Other than that, the dark furred Eevee didn't speak a word and kept his face neutral throughout.

Virgil sighed, flicking his tail "so you never thought once why two random Eevees took me? Logan, I thought you were the smart one. Well" he added and Logan's ears started to lower in shame "you are the smartest one here, just not about this.

"And you two" the youngest turned his head "did it occur to you that you could have just gone up and asked?" He paused, realizing the answer before the marked Eevee spoke.

"Well," he mumbled, "for one we thought they were the ones that took you in the first place. You just disappeared that day" Virgil shuddered, remembering that was true, though the truck story could be told another day "plus they're.. caught pokemon" he finished. "Ya" Virgil continued "just like me."

"But-" the stink covered Eevee tried, but Virgil shook his head.

"Thomas met me several times before I joined the team, in fact from the story Logan and Patton have told me" he flicked his tail to the shiny pair of parents "Thomas wouldn't let himself catch them until both of them made it clear they wanted to join his journey."

Patton nodded "before Thomas saved us, twice if you count the Team Rocket members in the marketplace, we never trusted humans. Most of the time humans tried to steal us for our fur color, Thomas was different" the father figure hesitated, "it.. kind of felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place when we met."

All the Eevees blinked as Thomas hummed in the background. None of the Eevees had ever mentioned to another about a feeling of a puzzle piece, Thomas had once made a comment of it, but the three there to witness that were more focused on Virgil's tail slipping into the bushes. The two unnamed Eevees even remembered when they first met Virgil hidden in the dumpster, they had felt some kind of connection.

"That.. wasn't just me who's been feeling that when we all meet?" Roman voice stumbled, eyes widening even more as the other 5 shook their heads.

"Well, you all seem to be in a better mood" Thomas chuckled, causing them all to jump. "Woah" he calmed, laughing.

 "Well, food is all ready and prepared, there's enough for you guys as well" he grinned at the newbies.

The two hesitated at the idea of food, but with a comforting chirp from their brother, they followed.

______________________________

With dinner cleaned away (Thomas somehow managing not to burn anything, Logan praised happily) the group curled before a campfire as the trainer roasted marshmallows (these, he did manage to burn more often than not).

Virgil spent this time explaining to both groups how he knew both sides, of how trash and marked Eevees saved him (he didn't explain what he was escaping from), how he really was taken from them, how he met the group in the field of flowers, and how he finally stayed with Thomas for good. By the end of the story his head was laid on the ground as he cuddled Roman (a late addition during the story time, since when he explained they were boyfriends the trash covered Eevee full on tackled Roman) listening to the fire crackle. Wispy clouds drifted lazily across the sky as the night crawling forest pokemon howled and chirped and hooted.

He looked at his family, most of his past was back in his life; but for how long? He shuddered and curled more into Roman's warm fur, hating the realization he might lose them again after looking for so long. They wouldn't want to be with a trainer, especially even if it meant having Virgil being back in their lives.

Virgil. He nearly spat the name at the ground. He wanted one again for so long, from the day he hatched he had one before it and everything was taken away by.. her. He vowed never to take a name again, especially from a human. If he did, would he be betraying his oldest family connection? What would Sleep and Pecha think of his now, their little Star taking a new name, only for this one to probably drive these brothers away.

Virgil lifted his head up, staring at the two nameless pokemon maybe four tail lengths away. Why did they keep searching for him anyways?

He startled as Roman nudged his cheek. "Sorry" the starter apologized "you just dazed off staring at those two, I was wondering if you were ok."

Virgil sighed "I.. I was just wondering, why did they follow me" he mumbled, unable to look at anyone he opted to stare up at the sky. Unfortunately the world decided to push the clouds out of the clearings sky view, only piling on more of his original family's guilt. He never went searching for that farm ever again after his.. escape, and knowing Thomas they wouldn't go 100 feet anywhere near there with Patton, Logan, and Virgil. Sure, Sleep was reckless, but Pecha would be sensible enough to know not to go out into the world, an unknown area only Eevees who were taken by trainers ever saw. Those puzzle pieces were probably lost to time.

But these two.. he looked back down, Star's eyes trailing at all of his family's faces, stopping at the two. They were here, close enough in one bound he could tackle them. Why did they come, why did they care enough to try and steal him back from (what they knew at the time) hostile people and pokemon? Why did they keep looking, why did he keep looking?

Why.. did he keep looking? Virgil stood up, eyes widening. Because they were, they are family. Family he didn't want to lose, he couldn't lose any more of them. With a push from his hind legs and a squeak of surprise from Roman as he momentarily turned into a launch pad, Virgil crashed into his brothers.

"Shit, wha-" one of them cried, getting cut off as Virgil curled close.

"Please don't leave me again" Virgil chirped quietly, to the point only the two he was curled against him could hear. Virgil burrowed closer "please" he whispered "I can't lose anyone again."

The two looked at each other in surprise. They thought, well Virgil wouldn't want them to stick around. From how he told the story they would never (and probably want never) to take the smallest away from this team, and from the looks of it the three Eevees didn't trust them much right now. They didn't, right?

They usually would never hang around a human more than a few moments, never used to having a family bigger than just the three of them. It seemed logically from their past for it to be near impossible for this human and three of his pokemon to ever trust them.

..But

But it was like the light silver shiny had said earlier, they could feel the puzzle pieces there, already connected to Virgil and ready to connect with them all. A human, who was like none other. He had witnessed them take one of his own, but when that one showed he still trusted the two misfits, the trainer opened his arms, gave them food for no other reason than one he trusted showed they trusted the two strangers.

And the three Eevees, Virgil seemed to trust them to the ends of the Earth. Patton had offered them to join their meal right away. Roman had laughed off the trash Eevees tackle and just said Logan's reaction had been similar. Logan, while seeming to be the least likely one to want them here, listened to their half of the story without interrupting unless to give more detail, and was showing trust even now by watching from the fire's other side, not moving an inch. They trusted them in a way.

No, they didn't think of these four as family yet, but for the first time since they met Virgil, since they met each other, there seemed to be a chance to make that come true.

"Ok", the marked Eevee nudged Virgil "we'll think about it overnight."

For some reason, they realized they wouldn't even need that time.

Because the best part of staying was not only they would gain a whole family, one they would perhaps one day learn they could always trust, but they would regain their brother. Their brother they would have searched for eternity to find, and given anything to stay with.

______________________________

Thomas yawned as he sat up, Patton rolling off the trainer's shoulder still fast asleep and swapped to flopping over a passed out Logan, who was moments ago tucked between Thomas's ear and shoulder. The human glanced around, finding Roman (who always moved in his sleep) laying across the sleeping bag where his left ankle was. Last but not least Virgil was curled under a cuddle puddle with the two new Eevees from last night off next to his sleeping bag, the only contact being Virgil's tail brushing Roman's.

The trainer chuckled and slid his foot away from it's prison, quietly hissing as he tested the tingling foot. Of course it was asleep. Well, the best way to wake it up was to get active so..

 

The dirty Eevee stretched, rolling off from the top of the cuddle puddle. He let out a small oof when he came in contact with the floor a moment later than he expected. The strange, definitely not earth floor….

Eevee blinked, watching not one but two of his brothers curl together sleeping. Yesterday wasn't a dream he realized happily, watching the three other Eevees scattered throughout the tent sleep. A pleasant smell carried his paws out of the durable plastic flap, emerging to a bright, just after dawn day. The human (Thomas his always chaotic mind somehow supplied) was back making more hot food. Well, at least he seemed to be attempting with varying success, a stack of nice enoughly done pancakes sat on a plate to his left, with a smaller (but not by much) pile of black crispy pancakes to his right. Now the left crispy brown ones looked appealing, the Eevee thought the crispy, burnt pancakes smelled like a gift from Arceus himself.

 

Thomas stumbled in surprise when the stack of miserable pancakes clattered to the ground, only to laugh as he watched the dirtier of the Eevee pair dive at them hungrily.

"Well breakfast won't be ready for a bit more, but I wouldn't mind the early clean up crew" he giggled as the Eevee glanced up only for a moment, only to turn to back and attack the pancakes again.

"Just make sure not to scatter them too far" Thomas warned kindly, turning back to the camping stove " we'll have to clean up afterwards." The trainer smiled as the Eevee chirped in agreement.

 

Soon the others crawled out, and the burnt pancake (and other foods Thomas just didn't get right) devourer went to chirp and chat with the others. Food was served, equipment packed, and about two hours later Thomas was adjusting everything onto his back. If it hasn't been for Logan, Thomas knew he would never have had his stuff packed so neatly.

"Welp" Thomas said out loud "it's time to get going, we have a gym challenge next town" his four cheered different levels of excitement. He turned to the two wild runners "I guess this is goodbye for now" he smiled

After so many run-ins with Virgil, Thomas had skillfully learned how to hide his heart ripping out everytime he had to leave puzzle pieces behind.

This skill came into play hard when Virgil looked up at the trainer with such sorrow, Thomas nearly burst to tears right then and there. Instead he smiled, offering a hand for comforting pets. Virgil did not walk near the hand, instead letting out and angry hiss.

Thomas shook his head, wishing he could fully understand what Virgil was saying, but got the message "I can't force them, you know better than anyone here that I only bring members on my team if they want to join. Never by force, I always give an option."

Virgil wine was cut off though as the dirty Eevee snapped from his frozen trance and bounded forwards, stepping up to Thomas and putting his paw onto the human's hand. Somewhere in him remembered a similar interaction with Roman when they first met, but that was washed away when the other Eevee came up and chirped something, only to get tackled by Virgil right after.

"Oh" Thomas realized, smiling "I'm guessing that's a good thing?" He asked his team beside him. Patton nodded excitedly, Roman purred, and Logan merely flicked his tail positively.

"I guess I can do this then" he slid out two pokeballs, setting them on the ground. The wild pair looked at eachother one last time before the smaller marked one nodded, and both touched the white button.

 

"So" Thomas asked as the group wandered down the trail, focusing on the pair walking (or in the dirtier ones case bouncing) by his feet "I was wondering if I could offer giving you names? You don't have to, but-" Virgil rubbed the trainer's cheek from his spot in the hood, stopping the human's splutter of words before chirping some of his own down. The two below responded after a moment and Virgil gave off a purr as a signal: both had agreed it would be ok.

"Alright.." he mumbled. Earlier events of when the dirt covered Eevee had offered his paw in the same way Roman had came rushing back, turning and twisting until a name suddenly formed "how about Remus for you?" He wondered. Said Eevee stumbled as though surprised, but after a moment Remus gave a happy chirp, Thomas smiled in return.

Finally there was the Eevee with the special marks on his face. There was something in his mind that he felt for some reason, it just felt right for him to call the other 

"Janus" he mumbled by accident out loud, the trainer's eyes widened as he glanced curiously at the pokemon "what about Janus?" The Eevee seemed to think hard although weighing the name vs. something only he saw, he knew. Before Thomas could speak the little Eevee glaced up and nodded, the most determined nod he had gotten out of the six of them for figuring out their name.

Six of them.

Thomas grinned widely as all six of his Eevees walked or rode on him. It had all started with Roman, the first time Thomas had found a puzzle piece. Then Patton and Logan, Virgil, and finally Remus and Janus. It felt right, like he was home. Like he was with family.

"It's interesting," he voiced quietly to his team "how many of us have seen each other before really meeting each other. There's even more to explore in the future, so many possibilities, so many mysteries. But I'm glad" he sighed gleefully as the distant sound of cars passed. The town was close by.

"I'm glad I get to do it with so many familiar faces. I'm glad that we all have connected stories. I.. honestly couldn't imagine walking our next journey without you guys, my completed puzzle

My family."

[badmcuposts]

A New Favorite Thing

No warnings

Good ole irondad and spiderson as suggested by @dantedeletes

Set like, a week or two after Civil War this is very very very early in their relationship.

Tony wants to learn how this slightly annoying snot-nosed kid from queens manufactured webbing that a genius billionaire can’t replicate for the life of him. In the end, he learns the slightly-annoying-snot-nosed-kid-from-queens is actually a miniature version of himself, and decides to keep him.

-

All Tony wanted was to find out how the kid designed that stupid webbing.

He had spent five-no-six days holed up in the lab over this, and nothing. Pep was getting concerned, rightfully so, that he hadn’t just asked Peter to show him. But how was he supposed to do that? ‘Oh hey buddy can you teach me how to do the thing i have multiple phds in because you’re smarter than me at 12?’ The whole thing was god awful embarrassing.

Which would be exactly the reason as to why Tony was about to burn the whole tower down if she pulled something like this again. Inviting the kid herself like she owned the place. Well, she did, but that wasn’t the point of it all. He didn’t even know what to do with an annoying little kid!

It wasn’t that Tony didn’t trust Peter in his lab. He had seen the kid’s grades. It was more or less worrying about what he was supposed to do in the highly unlikely event that the kid wasn’t as trustworthy as he seemed. If they got in there and Peter couldn’t hold his own, he would be at a total loss to keep control in the lab. There were so many questions, so many worries in case something went wrong.

Was he even old enough for the energy drinks? What else was in the minifridge up in the lab? Bagels? Did he like bagels? What if Peter got scared up in the workshop? Would he fit into Tony’s spare safety goggles? What if he didn’t like the way the workshop was organized? What if Peter didn’t want to be around Tony after this and got himself hurt?

And this would be why Tony really hadn’t contacted Peter, huh? His own insecurity about how he was supposed to continue on with his relationship with a something-year-old child after no doubt traumatizing the poor thing in a battle and then embarrassing him via benching halfway through.

He’d read the countless articles in old newspapers, seen the police files involving the kid. The Parker boy was a ticking time bomb, no doubt about it. If Tony didn’t keep him in line and make sure not to hurt him any more, those special abilities might turn into weapons of mass destruction. And he really didn’t want to start planning for the kid to go to the dark side.

But, it was time to man up and face the music. Or, rather, the child standing three feet away with the most worn duffle bag to ever grace the eyes of someone with the Stark name. Tony gently smiled, raising his hand for a polite shake that Peter took with innocent eagerness and aptitude. God, this kid is definitely gonna break something up there.

“Peter, nice of you to join me. I’d love to talk a bit about that webbing we discussed before.”

Peter’s smile faltered a little, but returned within the second.

“Yeah, Miss Potts said to bring my stuff. Though, if you wanna do me a favor, let’s not break any of it. Technically, I’m borrowing it from the school labs.”

“You don’t have your own equipment?”

Tony was honestly shocked. Where had Peter been making all of this? He couldn’t have been using public school half-ass production level equipment this whole time, could he?

“No, sir. I just make the web fluid during chemistry when the teacher turns around.”

Well, that answers that question. How smart was this kid? A few years of straight As indicated intelligence but, at this rate, shouldn’t he have skipped a few grades?

“Well then, looks like it’s time to get down to business, isn’t it?”

Peter’s breathing managed to begin to replicate the tune of “I’ll Make a Man Out Of You”. This kid...

“Yessir.”

And as they reached the elevator, Friday automatically carrying the pair of nerds to floor 79, Tony finally said it.

“Stop calling me sir, you make me feel older every time you speak than most people do when they remind me that my father was young and spry in the smack dab middle of World War Two.”

“Only if you start referring to this stuff as “web fluid”, Mr. Stark. It’s very important to repect scientific nomenclature in the form given by the original scientist.” “How much of that was a the answer to a science class pretest?” “The whole thing.”

Fair enough, you little-

The elevator came to a halt (smoothly, of course. It’s stark tech) at the workshop. Luckily for Tony, he had plenty of extra space so Peter would feel comfortable. He pointed to a desk a few feet from his own and briefly stated “Set your gear up over there, tell me what chemicals you need.”

Peter, however, didn’t seem to willing to let his host take the lead.

“Oh no, sir, I brought my own stuff. Midtown is loaded with spare bottles. They won’t notice.”

Two could play at that game, couldn’t they? Well, there was always one way to find out.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna leave them in the bag and put them back tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow’s saturday.”

“Monday, whatever. My cabinet has a billion variations of every science-related doohickey known to man and it could use some more use. No point wasting all the money that school probably spends with the intent of it being used in class, huh? And what did I say about calling me sir?”

“Sorry, sir.”

The kid was smirking. What did Tony do to deserve such cruel treatment from the universe?

Peter tossed his bag onto the desk with enough force to make any non-enhanced teenager look like they were about to throw a tantrum. But, Peter merely glanced at his hands, sighed, and checked that none of the gear had gotten damaged.

Right, super kid. Not a normal intern. Not an intern at all, technically. Unless...

Nope. Later, Tones.

Tony quickly assisted in the set-up, hoping he could rush this and memorize the formula as quickly as inhumanly possible. And that’s when he noticed, Peter’s notes were in the back of his chemistry notebook. How in pointbreak’s name had nobody figured this kid out yet?

Pushing his lack of faith in humanity and all of its company, Tony unlocked the cabinet of infinite chemicals.

“Alright can you grab me some... uhhhhh.... Salicylic Acid, Touline, Methanol, Carbon Tetrachloride, H-Heptane, Potassium Carbonate, Ethyl Acetate, Hexate, BHA, Sodium Tetraborate, and why not just jump the gun and grab the Cactivator Activated Silica Gel now instead of waiting until later?”

Jesus christ this might as well be a liquid bomb with how little he trusts a child with any of these products. Especially silica gel. Don’t kids get high off of that stuff? No, no, Tony, be a good mentor-figure-thing. Now was the time to let the kid have a little room to make mistakes. Let him blow up the lab now instead of later. Sounds responsible.

“Gotcha, Wiz Kid.”

“First off, if I was a sim, my childhood aspiration would be Rambunctious Scamp.”

Tony deadpanned at Peter for another three minutes and twelve seconds before finally responding.

“I literally have no idea what you are talking about, ever.”

Well, ain’t that the truth. However, if Tony was being honest with himself, a little back and forth did wonders to calm his nerves. Maybe the kid wasn’t all too frightening. More like a kitten in the freezing rain.

“What’s next?”

Peter grabbed the worn notebook and examined the page closely.

“Uhhhh, now we add activator degas for 30 minutes, I think. Or is it 45? Wait a sec, I’ll find it somewhere in my notes.”

“You don’t have it memorized?”

“Well, usually I don’t have an audience.”

“Touché.”

Time continued on like that for the next half hour. Back and forth, quip after quip, each remark from the thir-fif-twe-si-fourteen year old “August 10th, 2001, the day the world wishes had never happened. No, it’s a joke Mr. Stark. More of a gen z kind of thing.” reminding Tony of himself. Perhaps, in another world, he could have been as amazing as Peter Parker was proving to be.

He even introduced Peter to the bots, who immediately decided they had a new brother to play with and went hog wild trying to play ball with the kid who was far more interested in marveling at their hotwiring. To Tony, their designs were juvenile and messy. However, to the teenaged dumpster diver next to him, they were beautiful.

And once time slowed, they finally went back to work.

“Now we need to heat it, slowly! Don’t hurt my baby, Mr. Stark!”

“Your baby?”

“You literally just called a little robot your baby but I’m the weird one, ok.”

“Dum-E has artificial feelings, your super glue wouldn’t care if you magically turned to ash.”

Ok, too far. But the kid took it as a joke, no doubt. He snorted the whole way through his laugh. Snorted.

“How slowly is this supposed to be anyway?”

“For the next 24 hours.”

“24 HOURS? What are we supposed to do until then?”

“I dunno. I can swing over tomorrow and we can finish it up then.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

Tony helped Peter load his equipment back up, hoping the kid wouldn’t get caught stealing school property.

“Heck, maybe make it a tradition. Lab days until one of us explodes from too much science.”

And Tony smiled. The brightest, most genuine smile he had ever given in his lifetime.

“You got it, kiddo.”

Yeah, Lab days.

He could get behind that.

It might just be his new favorite thing.

[ineffable-dads]

Life’s Ineffable Like That (Repost)

Ineffable Husbands, Post-Not-Apocalypse,  Light-hearted shenanigans, Fluff

Summary: Crowley wakes up to find a human child left on his doorstep.  He’s not sure where it came from, or who it belongs to, but he’s got a vague idea what to do with it.  The trouble is getting Aziraphale to agree.

A/N: Alright, one more time! Here’s hoping the tags actually work!  I originally posted this on my primary blog shenanigans-and-imagines, but decided to put it here for now, for hopefully obvious reasons. 

This is going to just be a series of one-shots set it this universe.  I don’t really have things in chronological order.  If anybody would like to be tagged for this series or has any prompts, please let me know.   And finally PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

Word Count: 2.8K

          It took a lot to surprise Crowley.  

          Having been on the Earth since the very beginning and being older still, it would be an understatement to say he’d been ‘round the block a few times.  

          A more accurate description would be he’d been ‘round the area on which the block would eventually be built a few thousand times, eventually watched the construction of the block with a cup of tea, and then went around the newly constructed block a few hundred thousand times more; occasional stops for repairs notwithstanding.  So, when one says that Crowley was taken by surprise when he opened his door to find a baby, in a basket, with a note attached, it is no small thing.

          His first sinking feeling was it was another Anti-Christ after the last one had been a bust.  He couldn’t imagine his superiors below would ever trust him with such a task again; part of the ineffable plan be damned. However, one look at the child told him otherwise.

          It was human; from its tiny human dark-skinned toes to its tiny human wisps of black hair. One hundred percent, certified, distant relation to Adam and Eve, human. The next question was, who on Earth would place a human child in the care of a soldier of Hell?  

          He looked out into the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of who ever had dropped the child on his door step.  Nothing came of it, of course, but Crowley felt he had to at least put in the effort. He looked down again.  

          The child was now staring up at him.  Its large brown eyes didn’t blink once as they took turns examining each other.

          “Right,” Crowley said.  “You aren’t going to cause trouble if I check something, are you?”

          The baby blinked, and Crowley took it as a yes.

          Slowly, the demon crouched down and took the note off the basket. Unfortunately, it was indeed, addressed to one A. J. Crowley.  

          He grimaced and opened the letter, which read as follows;

            Crowley,

           I’m not sure if you remember me, but I remember you. The night we had together is one I could never forget, for, as I hope is apparent to you now, obvious reasons.  I couldn’t bear to give her away.  You hear such awful things about foster care and orphans in books and the like. I just knew she’d be safe with you.

          Janet

          Crowley stared at the letter for a good long while.  She had been right; he couldn’t remember her.

          But, the letter had managed to answer three things.  One, the baby was female.  Two, the mother clearly didn’t know who Crowley really was.  And three, this clearly was a big mix-up, but not by the postman.  It also answered a bonus forth question; the child was not his problem.  

          Without another thought on the matter, Crowley closed the door with a mild thud.  

          The child, however, would not allow Crowley to dismiss her without another thought on the matter.

          Muffled wails came from the other side of the door. Crowley turned towards it, his lip tightening.

          “Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play is it?  Go ahead! I watched after the wrong Anti-Christ for eleven years, I can take it.”

          The cries continued all the same as Crowley went about his morning routine. Or at least, as he tried to go about his morning routine.

          He had hoped somebody else might hear the baby crying and take care of it themselves. Or maybe the baby would just stop when it realized it wasn’t going to get its way. He had no such luck on either front.

          For one, he essentially lived alone on the top floor the apartment complex; so, the chances of a good Samaritan stopping in were slim to none.  And for second, a new born human is as stubborn as a full-grown mule.  

          The baby cried as he prepped his coffee with a pressed lip.  It continued on through his bedroom walls as he got dressed with gritted teeth.  And finally got to him when he was about to water his plants.

          “Fine!” he snapped, storming back towards the door.  “Fine! Fine! Fine!”

          He didn’t stop saying “fine” until the basket was placed on the dining room table just off the kitchen.  

          The child was still crying, but it had changed from the attention seeking wails to a more whimpering blubber.  

          Crowley let out an annoyed sigh, making a silent prayer to either side that nobody notice what he was about to do. With a snap of his fingers a bottle of warm milk appeared in his hand.    

          “Happy now?” he grumbled, as he held the bottle for the girl to drink.

          The baby did so, staring up at him with wide eyes.  She did not appear unhappy.  The bottle had effectively stopped her cries.  But, Crowley vaguely felt like she was threatening to start again should he try anything. He might have been impressed of her stubbornness if it wasn’t directed at him.

          The moment’s quiet finally gave him time to think.  And that time to think helped him to remember just how this mix up might have started.

          He had been hearing more and more things on the news about sex, abortions, and if the government should or should not have a say in it.  This was not a new topic of conversation. Sex had always been a hot button issue to humans; seven deadly sins and all that.  But, what humans failed to realize was the sin wasn’t the lust itself, rather all the things humans were willing to do to satisfy it; anger, betrayal, jealousy, the lot.  It came to the point where Crowley just had to know what all the fuss was about.  He was a demon after all, it was his job to allow himself the occasional indulgence in sin.

          So, one night, he went out, got drunk and indulged.  One man, one woman, just to give each a fair shot.  

          It was good.  He wouldn’t say he’d go out of his way to do it again. Or even if he could justify why humans were willing to kill each other over it; however, he could see why it might be done recreationally.

          Timeline wise, it more or less coincided with the appearance of a one-month old baby on his doorstep. However, there was no conceivable way he was actually the father.  Humans and demons couldn’t make children.  It would be like an ape trying to have a baby with a snake, rather literally in this case. Which meant, she had a human father somewhere out there, but who or where he was was a question Crowley couldn’t answer.

          Giving her back to her mother was out.  She had cast her aside.  The child had no home to be returned to. There was only one thing Crowley could do in this situation.  He pulled the bottle away and picked up the phone.

          “Sorry, we’re quite closed,” Aziraphale answered.

          “It’s me,” Crowley said quickly.  “I need you to come over.”

          “Something’s happened?” the angel asked, immediately recognizing his friend’s tone.

          “Yeah, you could say that.”

          Then, as if waiting for her cue, the baby began to cry once more.

          “Is that a baby?” Aziraphale asked, alarmed. “Another Anti-Christ?!”

          “No,” Crowley assured.  “No, no Anti-Christ.  Look, difficult to explain on the phone, just come over here.”

          “I’m on my way.”

          They both clicked off.  

          The baby cried, and Crowley was just about finished.

           “Right,” he snapped, walking back towards her. With dramatic flair, he tore off his sunglasses, letting the child get full view of his slitted, yellow eyes.

          “You are going to stop crying,” he growled in the same tone he used on his plants when one of them developed a spot. “You are going to sit there and behave until the angel figures out what do to with you. Do you understand?”

          The baby blinked, and Crowley prepared himself for the cry of fear.

          But, it never came. Instead, she out stretched her arms, brushing his nose with her tiny fingers.

          “What are you doing?” he asked, suspiciously.

          She didn’t answer.  She just continued to swing her little arms around, trying to get a grip on his chin and face, and anywhere else she could manage to reach.

          Crowley pulled back a hair but allowed his hand to come within her range flailing limbs.

          She took hold of one of his fingers and let out a gurgle of satisfaction.

          The demon stared down, not quite sure what to make of it. The sensation of having his hand look so monstrously large when compared to hers, made his stomach twist in a foreign, but not entirely unpleasant way.

          She pulled his finger closer to her with no indication she was going to let go any time soon.

          “You’ve got so sense of self-preservation, do you,” he asked, dismissively.

          She batted his hand in response.

          Before he even fully realized he was doing it, he picked her up, careful to let her chin rest against his shoulder as he held her.  She started to drool on his jacket, but he found himself not really caring.  He could always miracle it away later.

          “You’re a real piece of work, you know that,” he said. “Whoever ends up looking after you is going to have their work cut out for them.”

          He walked through the flat towards the living room, not waiting for a response.

          “Aziraphale will probably say to give you away.  Make sure you’re picked up by some loving perfectly normal human family.  Boring answer, really.  But that would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

          He sat down on the couch, adjusting so he was leaning back as the baby lay on his chest.

          “God forbid an angel not to the right thing,” he continued, ironically. “But, I’m not an angel, am I? I’m not supposed to do the right thing.”

          He let the thought stew for a moment before continuing.

          “My lot would probably just leave you behind a dumpster. Or find some place out of a Charles Dicken’s novel to drop you.  Basic set up for a miserable life; no real thought put into it. No imagination.”

          The child let out a little yawn, gripping vaguely at the fabric of Crowley’s shirt.

          He caught himself smiling at the action.  “Serves you right, a full hour of wailing can really take it out of you.”

          She didn’t make any more sounds one way or the other.  Her eyes simply fell closed.

          Crowley kept a hand on her to keep her from sliding off his chest before leaning fully back to stare at the ceiling. An idea was forming in his mind; one he was growing more and more keen to act on.  He would just need to convince Aziraphale to go along with it.  

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

         When the angel arrived at the flat, Crowley was still on the couch, now with the baby safely cradled in his arms.

         “Oh, thank God,” the angel said, breathing an audible sigh of relief. “It’s human.”

         “I said as much, didn’t I,” Crowley defended.  

         “You said it wasn’t another Anti-Christ,” the angel replied.  “That leaves plenty of other options open.”

         Crowley didn’t really have a counter argument and opted for a general nod of the head from side to side.

         “Well, either way, you’re here now.  Take her for a moment, will you?”

         He didn’t wait for Aziraphale to respond before practically shoving the girl into the angel’s arms.  

         Aziraphale took her, of course, cradling her head with the same care he might with his beloved books.

          “Hello there,” he cooed only a little awkwardly.

         The child opened its eyes with the same curiosity it did when examining Crowley. Perhaps it was his angelic nature, or maybe she was still tired from a good cry, but she cooed back, her hands grabbing vaguely in his direction.

         Aziraphale smiled at the action, and gladly gave her one of his fingers to play with before addressing the demon in the room.

         “Where did she come from?

         “Now angel, it’s been six thousand years. You really need me to explain the bird and the bees?”

         “You know what I mean,” Aziraphale said, trying to place more indignity than embarrassment in his tone.

         Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses, handed Aziraphale the note, and leaned against the island countertop as the angel read.

         Aziraphale finished the note, his brows furrowing in confusion. “This is clearly some sort of mistake.”

         “That’s what I said,” Crowley said, taking back the note.

         “You can’t possibly be the father.”

         “Obviously.”

         “So why does she think you are?”

         Crowley crossed his arms, doing his best to say the words as casually as possible. “Probably because I had sex with her.”

         Aziraphale blinked.  “You what?”

         “I. Had. Sex. With. Her.” The demon repeated, slowly.

         Aziraphale blinked again.  There wasn’t any judgement on his part that Crowley could detect, just a general confusion as if he had just confessed, he liked peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches.

         “But, why?” the angel finally asked.

         “Curiosity,” Crowley answered, this time with genuine casualness.

         “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

         “There was nothing to tell. It was a one-off thing.  Well, two off,” he said, with a shrug. “Different person, nice man.”

         Aziraphale stared at him for a long while before letting out a tired sigh.

         “I will never fully understand you Crowley.”

         “Probably not,” he admitted. “But, I doubt we’d be friends if you did.”

         The angel didn’t argue, looking back down at the human baby in his arms.

         “I suppose it doesn’t matter where she came from,” he said.  “The simple fact is she’s here, and she needs a home.”

         The child’s eyes were beginning the close again as Aziraphale swayed gently back and forth, her grip still tight around his finger.

         “I suppose we’ll have to find some adoption agency,” Aziraphale said, his voice sounding almost melancholy at the prospect.  “There are plenty here doing good work.”

         “Yeah, about that,” Crowley said, taking a stride towards him.  “I was thinking, we could try something else.”

         “Such as?”

         “Well, I don’t know about you, but I was thinking about keeping her.”

         “What?!”

         “Shh! Not so loud. She’s going to sleep.”

         “You can’t keep her, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. His voice, though a whisper, lost none of its edge.  “She’s a human being, not a plant you can terrorize.”  

         “So, she’s a human being, I’ve taken care of a human being before.”

         “As a nanny, for a handful of years, and that was for work.”

         Crowley could see the frustration rising in Aziraphale’s temples as the angel took a breath.

         “This isn’t a one-off thing,” he continued. “This is a life.  A human life.  She should be with other humans.”

         “And humans can do better than us, can they?”

         “They were able to handle the Anti-Christ much better than us, if I recall.”

         Crowley floundered for a moment before recovering. “Yeah, well, we helped.”

         “By being incompetent.”

         The demon let out a huff of frustration. “Fine, you don’t want in. You don’t want in. But then what happens to her after this is on you.”

         “Excuse me?”

         Crowley’s eyes narrowed making a point to circle the angel, as he put special care into his next few sentences. 

         “Let’s say you take her to an adoption agency.  Maybe even go so far as to miracle her a nice normal family. Then what? Forget? Let the world do with her as it likes? This cold, careless world that so often let’s bad things happen to good people. If a child were left on your doorstep, would you really just let her go?”

         Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer but stopped as the child made another small cooing sound. He looked down again, his eyes softening at the odd little bundle even as conflict still raged back and forth.

         “We can’t,” he said, with no real conviction.

         “Maybe you can’t.  I’m keeping her whether you say yes or no.” He then took another step forward and pulled the child out of the angel’s arms.

         Aziraphale floundered, completely shocked by his friend’s actions. “But—"

         “Let’s see,” Crowley said, speculatively.  “Girls names. Girls names.  Let’s go with –”

         “No!” Aziraphale interrupted.  “No! You can’t just name her.  Once you name her, we’re sunk.”

         “We? You just said yourself angel, you can’t.”

         “Well, you’re forcing my hand,” he countered.  “I can’t very well stand by and watch you create your own personal foot soldier of hell now can I?”

         Crowley grinned, knowing full well the excuse was just that, an excuse. “Good, it’s settled, we’ll raise Izzie together.”

         “Izzie?” Aziraphale said, doubtfully.

         “Short for Isabelle.”

         The angel raised an eyebrow.

         “What?” Crowley asked.  “You think I’m going to name my kid after some demon or something cruel like Bobbi Jean?” He shook his head. “No.  I think Izzie is just wrong enough.  Izzies are always crazy.”

         Izzie raised no objections to this as she gurgled peacefully.

         Aziraphale assessed the reaction carefully, before taking a small step closer.

         Izzie spotted him and her hands reached out for the angel’s finger once more. He let her take without hesitation.

         “Well for my money, I think Belle suits her much better,” Aziraphale said.

         “Whatever you say angel.”

[mittensmorgul]

15.01 Back And To The Future rewatch notes

Note to anyone reading: I’ve already written a mishmosh of other posts addressing stuff in this episode, so this post is not a comprehensive list of every important or interesting thing in 15.01. This post is “things I haven’t otherwise talked about elsewhere yet” or “things I’ve been meaning to talk about in more detail but haven’t yet,” or “things I’d otherwise be compelled to write into the transcript doc in the other tab and really really shouldn’t.” Because that’s actually the purpose of this particular rewatch-- writing up the transcript. Which is happening in the other tab. :P

(i’m gonna go post the transcript now, so it should be up as soon as I get all the html un-screw-ified... >.>)

That said, let’s gooooo!

well, under a cut because long-ish >.>

I already talked about the song choice, and the fact it was the opening montage music in 9.10 (rip Lamp-- yes, this song has forever been the imaginary background music to Lamp/Other Lamp, sorry, the brain wants what the brain wants). It also reminded me of 11.04, the Night Moves scene, combined with Dean’s joke about how Piper brushed Sam off without giving him her number, and Dean replied “We got tonight, who needs tomorrow,”  where Sam asks Dean if everything is a Bob Seger song to him. Because, heh, here have another Bob Seger song summing up the end of the road here.

But I love how the lyrics MATCH UP with the action in this opening scene.

♪It's been a long time since you smiled♪ [zombies circle around TFW cutting off their chance of escape] Chuck: Story's over. Welcome to the End. [Cas kneels over Jack's body] ♪Seems like oh, so long ago♪ --NOW-- [in the graveyard, the scene picks up where 14.20 left off, and the music continues uninterrupted from the Road So Far montage. TFW battle a zombie horde, as we zoom out from Jack's burned out eyes and the fighting rages on] ♪And now the stage has all been set♪ ♪And the nights are growing cold♪ ♪Soon the winter will be here♪ ♪And there's no one warm to hold♪ ♪Now the lines have all been read♪ Cas: Sam! Dean! ♪And you knew them all by heart♪ ♪Now you move toward the door♪ [Cas picks up Jack's body and runs, leading the way out of the zombie fight. Sam and Dean follow, dodging monsters and graves] ♪Here it comes the hardest part♪ ♪Try the handle of the road♪ Sam [spotting potential refuge]: Dean, this way! ♪Feeling different, feeling strange♪ ♪This can never be arranged♪ ♪From the famous final scene♪

Then there’s the DRAMATIC ZOOM in on Dean that literally cuts Cas out of the shot as Dean reacts to his line that “Well, I wouldn’t starve.” Like that was the moment Dean began to literally shut Cas out, because he feels that line was Cas shutting HIM out. So instead of trying to deal with any of that because ZOMBIES TRYING TO BREAK DOWN THE DOOR is a more immediate concern, he turns his back and goes on his little tirade about Chuck. Like he was reliving that moment he got to smash Chuck’s guitar and wishes he could do it again.

And then we meet Belphegor, who already has a rather hopping tag on my blog, so I’m gonna… just move on a bit from here…

I am in pain over this callback to Bloody Mary, with the teenage girls who seem far younger than the girls from the original. These girls are far more innocent. They didn’t call up bloody Mary, they have no guilt of having killed anyone on their souls. Bloody Mary just… showed up. And tortured and killed them.

But this parallel was twisted. In the original, the girls’ father apparently gave their mother an overdose of sleeping pills that led to her death. in the new version, one of the girls’ parents just got divorced and was compensating by going on a shopping spree and buying everything her daughter wanted. These girls were laughing, loving what that divorce brought them.

It’s sort of a more cheerful parallel to Dean and Cas’s fracturing relationship over their dead son’s body…Well, more cheerful until Bloody Mary kills them, anyway.

Sam learns there’s no sudden worldwide zombie outbreak, so the incident seems localized to that one graveyard.

And at this point I started a THIRD thing I’m working on at the same time, because two was apparently not enough. I think I’m gonna copy/paste that stuff here, instead. It’s about the Three Ghosts of this episode-- each parallelled directly to one of TFW. Bloody Mary was one, and in this episode she was Cas’s parallel. It’s her victims Cas will find-- two little girls who never deserved the fate Bloody Mary dished out to them. But Mary Worthington had been murdered herself, and her killer never caught. So she originally killed people who kept secrets about others’ deaths as a form of revenge against her own killer. In trying to protect others, she became a killer herself. And heck if that’s not painfully Cas… or something he feels he’s painfully failed to do, to protect the Winchesters from having to do horrific things. And he DID sell his own potential future happiness in exchange for Jack’s life, only to have just watched Jack die horrifically. His sacrifice, again, has amounted to nothing.

In this episode, she follows Cas from the house, through mirrors, and reappears in a dark pond to grab at the mother and child Sam had already saved from John Wayne Gacy (yeah, I’ll type that one up next, but let’s finish this first...). So there’s a being now watching Cas from the depths of a dark pool, waiting to reach up and grab him when he finally feels safe. Sounds like… the Shadow.

So on to Sam vs Clowns. Sam’s direct parallel is the ghost of John Wayne Gacy, in clown costume, that he formerly burned in 14.13. In an episode where he was about to come face to face with his own past in the form of John Winchester suddenly appearing in the bunker, torn from the past. It’s an episode where Sam and Dean find peace with who they’ve become, and lay a ghost of their past to rest.

With the Equalizer wound humming along, affecting Sam in mysterious ways we’ve only begun to glimpse, and Sam’s brief flash of himself with black eyes apparently hurting Dean, it’s hard NOT to think of the parallel that Clowns have always held for Sam-- Lucifer. Heck I’ve written about that recently, or at least it feels like I have… but at the end of this episode, Sam stops and looks Gacy in the face and tells him to shut up. Which is something Sam has ALSO said to Lucifer (or at least a hallucination of Lucifer). The infamous “HE SAID SHUT UP TO ME!” of Hallucifer in 7.15, which ended Sam’s ability to shut out the hallucination by squeezing the cut on his hand.

Now on to Dean’s parallel ghost: Constance Welch, aka the Woman in White from 1.01. A woman who was the first ghost of the entire series, who Sam literally drove into her house to “take her home,” where she had to face what she’d done to her own children. She’d killed her own children in a moment of grief after her husband cheated on her, and then killed herself.

Dean had been moments from killing Jack in 14.20, in a moment of grief, but didn’t. Yet he’s now having some serious issues with Cas throughout this episode and by the end, they’re “frosty.”

Belphegor, with Dean, looks for a human heart to use in their spell, and stumble across one of Constance’s victims. Belphegor rips out his heart and holds it up to Dean, when Constance appears. She recognizes Dean from 1.01, who made her go home, and attacks him. Then tries to attack Belphegor, and actually injures his hand.

But this is the ghost Dean is paired with. He drives her off, and Belphegor does the spell to contain the ghosts by putting the heart in a pile of salt.

Okay, now where was I in these notes… right… Town, where Sam and Dean play FBI, trying to stop a benzene pipeline leak. And wow, what a weird story, right? Sheriff was confused, but helped evacuate the townspeople to safety.

I think it’s interesting that this was intended to be another stopgap measure, like putting Jack in the box in 14.19, because they know this spell won’t hold forever, and they know they have no other reasonable way to fix the problem. But they can try to buy some time, and hope they’ll come up with a better solution before things go sideways.

Dean asks Cas to help Belphegor do the spell thing, but Cas refuses, and goes to work with Sam instead, leaving Dean to deal with the demon possessing Jack. Which leads to all sorts of interesting conversations between them… I think I’ve written and/or reblogged enough posts on the queer subtext… er… text even… of these scenes to just point out here that it exists, and is heavy.

Meanwhile Cas and Sam go house to house looking for people they need to evacuate, and encounter the above ^^ ghosts.

So Dean’s stuck with the demon fanboy who admires what Dean did in Hell, and Dean seems pretty uncomfortable about this, but it’s not like he has a choice, you know? Who else is gonna do this? Cas couldn’t, Sam’s already on the other gig, and that leaves Dean. So… instead of denying what he’d done, he brushed it off as “a long time ago.” And then actually asked what the situation in Hell was like. The answer Belphegor gave is… interesting.

Belphegor: You ever seen an ant hill when it's, like, set on fire? [lol no, according to Dean’s wtf face] Okay, well, there we were, minding our own business, you know, flaying people for eternity, like you do, right? And then every door in Hell just sprang open all at once. You know? Souls got out. Sky cracked. And, uh, boom, ta-da, you know?

So all the gates are open, including the Cage, but Michael’s apparently still just sitting there. Which is worrisome. But my question is, if all the gates are open, yet the entire planet isn’t flooding with demons and souls, ONLY through the direct portal into that graveyard, how can what Belphegor said be true? At least, theoretically… But that’s a question for another day, when we have more canon to understand.

So… Dean has to face Constance, who flings him into a dumpster. Which makes me lol think about 1.01 and Dean flinging himself off a bridge to get away from her, and ended up covered in mud.

Cas’s “It’s one ghost,” *two more ghosts appear* “It’s three.” reminded me of “I got this,” “I don’t got this.”

Sam accidentally shooting Cas because the ghost got between the two of them horrifyingly reminds me of 12.17 and Eileen accidentally shooting Mr. Top of his Class at Kendricks when Dagon deliberately came between the two of them. At least Cas is salt-proof, you know?

Belphegor calling out Bad Ghost! kinda reminds me of Dean’s “Here ghostie ghostie ghostie” from 4.13. But REALLY. A demon, who tortures souls for fun and profit, yet can’t do anything more than weakly scold a ghost like a misbehaving puppy? INTERESTING. Because it’s Dean that has to whack her with a metal rod, while Belphegor ends up with deep gouges in his hand that are clearly causing him pain.

Dean hurls the name Casper at Constance before he whacks her, which is also a callback to 1.01. It was Sam who called him out for shooting at her with regular bullets: “What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” Lol that he remembered that.

Sam pulled a “I’ll hold them off, I’ll hold them all off” hopeless move when he sent Cas away, like Cas once did in 4.22 when he sent Dean away to stop Sam… but Sam actually got out in one piece, even though his gun was empty.

Sam picks up the little girl and runs as fast as he can and only looks back once he’s outside and safe. Like “take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back”

I already wrote about the callback of Dean distracting Sam from tending to his wound with the cut-off joke, reminding me of the scene in 4.09 of Sam doing something similar while fixing Dean’s dislocated shoulder.

And then we have the realization that they’ve never really had free will, just limited choices because of the circumstances Chuck put them in. Sam is unrealistically optimistic that it means that Chuck’s actually gone, now. But that’s the hope he’s holding on to in order to get through this horror.

So this… is what they’re setting up as the guidemap to the series finale. Specifically, Sam and Dean must finally earn their way free. The ghostpocalypse is just step one, and not the true end. There’s still Heaven and Hell to deal with (though Heaven is mostly empty of angels and Hell seems to be actively crumbling now). And Michael, whenever he gets around to walking out of the cage. I’m sure that will go great! Unhinged archangel on the loose! But those are all minor distractions compared with Chuck, because he hasn’t really gone anywhere.

And we still don’t know what Actual Jack, Billie, and the Shadow are up to in the Empty, in their secret meeting in a realm that Chuck has no power. And what about Amara? How does she feel about this now that she’s grown fond of creation? I think there’s a much bigger game afoot than just a ghostpocalypse.

Meanwhile, Sam’s quote here is still setting up the final scene of the series: When we win this, God's gone. Hm. There's no one to screw with us. There's no more maze. It's just us. And we're free.

That’s the goal.