#hi its on ao3 now

[catmaidetho]

Schlatt what’s up motherfuckers guess who’s back from rehab

Iskall please help me this strange man has started screaming in my dms i dont even know how he got my number

[idliketobeatree]

to Charles, an Edwin Payne poem.

[fluffyartbl0g]

Someone get this man a younger sibling that ISNT like. Twice his height.

[torchstelechos]

Say what you will about the DC timeline but we all know the truth, Jason Todd uses AO3 and has an account despite not understanding these new fangle technological advancements (hes fucking with Tim he understands what cookies are, it pisses off Tim more than anything else Jason has done)

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[sidesteppostinghours]

ok. question.

ortega ended up hallucinating sidestep after they "died", but sidestep doesnt know about that. they know it got bad, but never the full extent of how their death affected them. so if your sidestep Did learn, if they found out ortega looked for them in every little piece they could, would that change anything for your sidesteps? would their relationship with ortega be any different?

[crimmsonflower]

shoutout to the writer of my favourite lawlight fic to ever exist

killing my self because I forgot to save it and they deleted the fic

[fallen6253]

The Stars Have Fallen to Earth, Can You Imagine That?

Tanned skin.  White hair.  Dark eyes. Their gaze moves slow, steady, makes its way to the window of a subway car.  In the brief moment it passes by, a small head with black hair peeks through. 

There was no eye contact.  But they knew the other was there. On some subconscious level, as if their very essence were attuned to one another.  

A rumble.  The car trembles.  Then it shakes.  Suddenly it's been thrown off the course of eternity and into a place of being known.

The subway crashes into solid ground.

A dreaming boy wakes up.

Miles away, a priestess known for denying god staggered in her footsteps.  Another migraine.  Another message.

Accompanied, for the first time, by an earthquake.

Huh. New.

The priestess picks up a pen and paper and rushes to a place hidden in darkness.  

A young man, hair and eyes as dim as night alight with stars, is waiting for her at the door to a beautiful home.  He walks her to a sitting room, tables set to the tone of a business meeting as if that was what this was.

Business as usual.

Of course.  It is.

He has a message about this world’s newest arrival.  And…a request.

She says this looking towards a man known for his wit and wile.  Brown eyes saturated to a dulcet red.  Blood red hair.  Clothes fitting and comfortable.  

He was on vacation.

Was.

The note warned first and foremost that nobody would hear from the god for a while.  Apparently bringing stars down from the sky costs quite a bit.  Well, that was what the note said, but the one reading it did not know its meaning yet.

The note then told them that the epicenter of that earthquake was near his home, and the damage to the forest should not be too drastic, since the cause was made of stardust and dream remnants and memories far too old to recall anymore.  It should fade with time, as all memories do.  By then it will return to creation and merge with the forest.  Again, the reader did not know what that meant.  He could only guess some things.

But the last lines caught his attention.  For two reasons.

The first being the mention of a child.  Far too young and far too ancient for all that it has seen.  The second reason being that this god made a request.  Not some mission with a reward.  Not some threat or warning with a clue as to how these mortals would react.  A genuine request he could choose to ignore completely without consequence since the god was indisposed. A sincere gesture for help that does not involve favors or world-blaming calamities.  

This being known for death asked a single mortal to save a helpless existence.

And for once the person reading it did not think about rejecting it at all.

He could be annoyed about it, something crashlanding into his forest, but…

There’s a kid that needs help first, we can yell at god for throwing him here later.

Do you think the plotting protagonist kept a library with stories of others like him?  Of dying worlds and forgotten names and tired heroes who made too many mistakes?

Edited, bc I have had a title for it and I just didn't change the post for some reason.

[cosmic-hoboandthehighlander]

I work at 8am and live five minutes from work but I woke up at 6:30am so I could sit and drink coffee by my front window while the sun came up and prepare my newest fic to post and this…this is what life is all about.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

time is out of joint

(If the author of Alabaster is on tumblr please know I’m haunted by your work)

[thedrotter]

help i cant stop drawing him he's so silly goofy ...

[michameinmicha]

That feeling when you just finished a book and you want to stay in that world just a little longer...

[seaweedstarshine]

This part was like half a year ago — but it's still cute that Forge and Ororo were both thinking of each other at almost exactly the same time—

—I love the fact that they agree on what the problem was in their relationship. I see fun things in the future for the reagent and the tinkerer—

—I have unreasonably high hopes they're gonna cross paths and do something interesting in the Black Panther arc in X-Force.

[redrobin-detective]

You better learn it fast, you better learn it young 'cause someday never comes

Father was coming. Months and months of waiting for him to reach out and, finally, Father was coming home. It wouldn't be to stay, no, he had his own life outside of the ice. As much as Ice Thing who had once been Gunter and before that Orgalorg missed him, they knew father had earned his flesh and freedom back. The crown had been Father's prison but it was Ice Thing's bright new future. Once upon a time, they would have never been satisfied with this; paltry powers and a minor kingdom but Father's influence had shown them the beauty of a simple life.

"Come on everyone, Father and the others will be here any minute and I want this place spotless," Ice Thing announced, clapping their way through the hoard of penguins careful not to jostle them. They were the master now but Ice Thing would always be one of them.

"Wenk," Guntilla said, flapping her fins.

"No, he's just visiting and if we want him to visit again everything needs to be perfect," Ice Thing explained impatiently.

"Wenk, wenk," Goonder noted bitterly.

"Don't talk about him like that, he may look and act different but he's still our father. I expect all of you to be on your best behavior or we'll have no snacks or cuddles tonight and that's a promise," the rest of the penguins wenked in dismay and hastily went back to cleaning the Ice Palace. They were just putting the final touches on the charcuterie board when there was a knock at the door.

"Oh they're here!" Ice Thing exclaimed, "Gonther, Ginty, open the door and let our guests in." They stood in the entryway holding the ice board of snacks when the group shuffled in. Big sister Marceline - elder only in years as Father's child and not in age- and younger brother Finn were there followed by friend Jake. The Candy Princess was absent, Ice Thing was neither surprised or unsurprised given her bad history at this palace. Father was hanging towards the back of the group, looking shyly around the place. He had on an obnoxiously big coat with his hands stuffed under his armpits. He was using the coat more as a shield than out of any desire for warmth.

"Welcome! Welcome!" Ice Thing exclaimed, shoving the ice tray into Jake's hands so they could shake everyone's hands. "I was delighted to get your message; I'm so happy you guys could come. Please stay as long as you like, here have some snacks, have anything you want. The fruit of the Ice Kingdom is yours for the picking!"

"Thank you for having us," Father said quietly. His mouth quirked up into a little smile as some of the penguins waddled up to him and flapped at his knees. "And hello there, how have you all been?"

"Wenk," Gunder elaborated. Father blinked in confusion at the various chirpings. Ice Thing had worried Father would lose his affinity for Penguinese along with, well, everything else. The others would be so disappointed but they'd deal with that particular heartbreak later.

"He says he's better now that you're home," Ice Thing translated before hastily continuing when they saw father's grim expression. "Of course I've explained that this is just a visit." They reinforced to the penguins still mobbing Father. "Father doesn't live here anymore, he has his own home to return to. He's here to collect his things from the Past Room, remember?"

"Father?" Marceline muttered under her breath with a guarded look.

"I mean it makes sense, Simon or wait I guess he was Ice King back then was always babying these guys and calling himself Daddy and stuff sooooo," Jake continued. He opened his jaw wide and ate the entire charcuterie board, ice tray included. "So I guess you don't speak penguin anymore, huh?"

"I guess not," Father said, hands awkwardly hovering over the heads of his penguins, children who had not seen him for months on end and demanded attention. Some begged for forgiveness for whatever kept him away from home. Some screamed at his absence, at his change. Some wept, believing he no longer loved them. Father, ignorant to their chittering, looked up at Ice Thing with poorly disguised anxiety.

"Gunter," Ice Thing said to his second in command. "Please show our guests to the Past Room so they can get stared. Ice boxes are all set for you down there. I'll let Father take what he needs from his bedroom and he'll join you downstairs soon."

"Why the rush? I think we should all go together?" Marceline frowned. They didn't know what she was jealous of when Father clearly favored her best.

"Marcy, come on, let them have some alone time. I think they got some Daddy-Alien Penguin Child stuff to sort through," Finn loudly whispered which everyone heard. Father's tanned cheeks turned an embarrassed red but said nothing. "Alright Gunter 2, lead the way!" He spun around to follow after the penguin and the others followed leaving Ice Thing alone with his father. They'd missed him terribly but now that he was here, they had no idea what to say.

"Your room just as you left it, didn't touch a thing. It's always open to you, if you ever want to come back, for a visit or for longer. The Ice Kingdom will always be your home," Ice Thing explained cheerily as he showed him the path Father undoubtedly knew. Father was silent as he walked quietly behind them.

"The penguins have missed you," so did I, went unsaid. "I'm sure they would love it if stopped by more often, or even just called."

"I didn't mean to abandon them," Father said slowly, carefully. "I will admit I was scared of coming back, afraid that being here would - I don't know - make me turn into him again or something. I didn't forget about them or you, I-I guess I hadn't framed our relationship as you had."

"You hate the Ice King," Ice Thing said, their voice becoming rough and losing it's whimsy as they stood in the entryway of his father's former bedroom. Blue mumus, various colored pencils and cracked ice sculptures were littered on the floor, unmoved since their owner last threw them there. Ice Thing had stood in this doorway many times, intending on tidying up the space but found they could not touch their father's abandoned possessions. Then he really would be gone.

"I don't really hate-"

"You deny all the things he loved in order to separate yourself from him. You stay with sister Marceline and care for brother Finn but we were your children the longest and instead you shun us." Ice Thing stated coldly, staring ahead into the vacant room and not at the familiar imposter beside him.

"The Ice King was silly and kind and full of feelings he could not understand much less control. But he was, more than everything, my beloved father. I understand he was not you and you were not him but you are the only thing that remains of him and so I must either build a relationship with you from broken scraps or accept that he is lost forever." They finally turned to look at the pale, stricken human. "My daddy is gone but I am willing to make due with a father if you are."

"Gunter," Father whispered softly, staring into Ice Thing's crystalline eyes. Father may have changed but his eyes were still pale wizard blue and just as sad. He wordlessly opened his arms and Ice Thing -a king and a god but also a parentless child - shuffled forward into his embrace. He was warm. It felt wrong but also strangely right.

"I'm so sorry," Father took a deep steadying breath. "I don't mean to but somehow I end up leaving the people I love behind. I know it must be strange to see me like this but the man I was... I was so miserable and confused and out of control. It took so long to escape from the crown that I kept away from anything reminding me of my old life. I wanted to be my own person outside of his craziness but by doing so I lost my connection to all the good things I had as Ice King and you all were one of my good things." Father pulled back and looked up at them.

"I'll be better. I'll stop by more often and bring treats and generally be more present. I... Daddy promises," he said awkwardly trying to infuse his old self into the words. But the attempt fell flat into the air, sinking like the dust on his father's old life. Ice Thing appreciated it but they had already made peace with their loss. They had watched Father and Marceline circle each other miserably for centuries. That would not be them.

"Thank you, Father," Ice Thing said, gently squeezing his father's delicate human shoulders. "Please take what you'd like from this room but I'm going to leave for you in case you need it. As I said, the Ice Kingdom was once yours and its lights will always be on for you. And if you ever need to talk, let us say I know what it's like to have your loved one changed and gone before your eyes."

"Yes, I suppose you do," Father muttered mostly to himself. "What did I ever do to deserve such kind children?"

"It was how you raised us," Ice Thing responded. They watched as Father took in the room, running his hands over the dust covered objects like they were ancient artifacts to be studied instead of his own belongings. He looked over at the drums hastily shoved into the corner and tapped a knuckle roughly on one of the cymbals which echoed through the room. "Do you still play?"

"I never learned how to play the drums," Father sighed. "Ice King did that all on his own. I never felt a calling to learn the drums but I guess it suited him. I-I think I remember songs, hours and hours of practice and how to hold a beat but I haven't touched them since I changed back. Not sure I really know how anymore."

"You taught me or rather you talked out loud enough as you learned that I picked up the basics. We could play together sometime, like you and Marceline do. Maybe one day we could play as a family." Ice Thing offered. Father smiled at him, sweet but also sad. 

"I would love to, honestly but I think I need more time before I'm ready to step back into those shoes again. I'm sorry, Gun- Ice Thing, really I am, but right now it's quite difficult to even stand in this room. I need to be Simon again before I can think about being Ice King." Disappointed but not surprised, Ice Thing led Father out of his former room and towards the stairs to the Past Room with the others.

Father was alive but it was different than before. Ice Thing had no hopes that he would ever return to being Ice Thing's beloved if complicated Daddy. It stung, an ache that reached deep into their icy heart. Father would visit and he would laugh with them and maybe, one day, he would even play the drums with them again. But it would never be the same. It was up to all of them to accept this new reality, for all the good and bad that came with it.

"Let's bring some more snacks down, if Finn doesn't have something to distract himself he's going to cause problems trying to get the car working," Ice Thing commented.

"The car?" Father blinked, "just what do I have down there? I can't even remember."

"I guess we'll find out together."

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

So, I've heard some voices here and there lamenting how little Gabe content - especially new Gabe content - there was and you know what? I completely agree, so I thought why not, I can try to add my little droplet into this tiny sea of Gabe appreciation we have here on tumblr.

Summary: Elena visits Gabe in his house for the first time and learns something new about his past.

Word count: 1937

AN: just some friendly fluff really, headcanon heavy, from Elena's POV but Gabe centric

"Oh, watch out, the first step is-" Gabe turned around just in time to catch Elena when she started to fall backwards. "-loose."

"Thanks for the warning." Elena shot him a glare when she regained her balance. In response Gabe only sent her an unapologetic grin and pulled her up on the next step.

"Everyone's so used to it by now that we keep forgetting to fix it with my dad," he explained as they finally reached the first floor.

The stairs led to a narrow corridor, with the same room placement as the bakery beneath it. Two doors on the right, one on the left and a wide opening to the living room at the end. In a few brisk steps Gabe opened the door on the left and invited Elena in with a courteous gesture.

"Welcome to my humble abode, your highness."

Her highness graced him with a nod and slipped by him, into the small room. Elena gave it a quick one over. It was indeed small - in fact, there probably wasn't much more space than what each guard got at the barracks - and the decor wasn't much fancier either. Cream colored walls, a thin bed by the window, a wardrobe opposite of it, one wall taken up by a bookshelf and a small cabinet by another made up basically all the furnishing of the room.

"Humble is a good word." She nodded solemnly, earning herself an eye roll from her friend. They both chuckled.

"Hey, it's your room that's out of the norm, you know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Elena retorted, thinking about how three or even four such rooms would fit into hers. She walked over to the cabinet and picked up some trinket. "But it's nice to finally see where you grew up."

Gabe couldn't stop a fond smile sneaking onto his lips when he noticed the badge she was examining.

"Yeah and I didn't really get to change much here in the past five years. For example this thing I got back when-"

"Gabriel!" He was interrupted by his mother's voice from the bakery.

"I'll tell you in a moment," he sighed. "Make yourself at home!" He added from the doors and quickly ran downstairs to his parents.

Elena took another look around the room. It wasn't entirely empty, she had to admit that, and the poster of Antonio Agama on the inner side of the door confirmed that Gabe didn't change the decor much since he moved out.

She moved to the bookshelf and moved her hand across the titles - though there weren't that many of them to count. The lower shelves were taken up by some boxes and bags and what could've been a neatly packaged tent. Then finally a whole shelf dedicated to the whole collection of Antonio Agama's books. Elena chuckled to herself when she read some of the more dramatic titles and noticed even one that wasn't in Avaloran. On the next shelf, between other various travel books and biographies, was only one book by señor Agama, titled simply 'The Gecko's Tale'. Driven by a hunch she took it out and couldn't help but laugh when she read the blurb on the back. Although that explained how the whole kingdom found out that she's a bit adventurous too.

Finally her gaze got to the plant on top of the mantle. Hidden so deep in the room, it extended its ivy like stalks towards the sun, climbing a string helpfully hung between the bookshelf and the window.

Down on the windowsill two other plants looked out on the little cobbled square behind the house. Elena leaned in to smell the orchid and noticed something half hidden behind the pot. Slowly, so as not to accidentally damage the plant, she reached for trinket and retrieved it into the light. It turned out to be a wooden doll, painted to resemble a familiar navy and maroon uniform...

"Is this you?" She turned to Gabe as soon as he entered the room and showed him the figurine with a wide smile.

Gabe stopped for a moment. Furrowed his brows as he tried to see what Elena was even holding, and then furrowed his brows even more when he recognised it.

"Of course not," he grumbled, closing the small distance between them. "It's just an old thing anyway."

"It does look a bit like you though." She jumped away from him at the last moment.

Gabe gasped. Elen giggled and moved her hand away when he tried to reach her.

"Why would I even have a figurine of myself?"

For a moment they circled each other, like two lions judging if it's worthy to fight the opponent for a steak, except the steak was now wooden and 15 centimetres high. They both hunched subconsciously and made their steps in the fencing manner.

"I don't know, why does Esteban have a whole wall of his own portraits?" A sly grin slid on her face. "But I see you've decided to match his collection."

"Oh now you've done it." Gabe shook his head to hide his smile and in the split of a second was right by her. Feigning to go right for the prize, he swiped her legs out from under her.

Elena waved her hands in the air giving Gabe just the opportunity he was waiting for. He swiftly yanked the figurine from her hands, giving her the last push to fall backwards completely. He turned his head with a victorious grin, just in time to see her legs rising at the height of his knees. And suddenly the ground was much closer than before.

He folded his arms to his chest, protecting the figurine with his body and rolled on the floor. Though he didn't have to roll far, of which he was promptly reminded by his head crushing into the cupboard.

He groaned loudly and let his body fall limply to the floor.

His pained complaint was answered by Elena's laughter from the bed.

"I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled and Elena's laughter only got louder.

Finally he sat up and lifted the figurine to his face. He carefully examined it for any cracks or splinters, checked if the joints in the limbs didn't fall out and most importantly if the head was still on firm. Finally when he made sure the trinket didn't get damaged, he let out a relieved sigh.

"You're lucky it's still whole," he grumbled, rising to his feet.

"Hey, I was being careful." Elena now sat up too and sent him a playful smirk. "All the way until you decided to trip me like that."

Gabe rolled his eyes again and huffed in pretended annoyance.

"So if it's not a limited edition General Nuñez action figure," Elena continued. "What is it?"

Gabe sat down next to her and thought of an answer for a moment. He changed the position of the little soldier's arms and reached for a pin to put into his hand as a sword.

"It's really just an old toy," he said finally. "But you know, it has sentimental value."

He finally passed Elena the figurine, so she could take a look at it herself. It wasn't as old as she thought at first. The paint was faded, but still held onto the uneven surface of the wood and as she moved her fingers across it, she realized that it must've been all whittled by hand, by someone who put great care in it, but wasn't a professional.

Still the amount of details was impressive, especially in the construction of the thing. She moved the tiny soldier into the proper fencing position and to her delight found out that it fits flawlessly, the wire on the joints creaked quietly, as if it had been waiting for an opportunity to shine for ages.

She glanced between the figurine and Gabe on her left for comparison. The uniform, despite the familiar colours, was a tad different, it resembles more what she remembered from her childhood, than the uniform Gabe was wearing at the moment.

"I got it from my first fencing teacher," he continued.

"The same one who threw coconuts at you driving training?" Elena raised a brow, earning herself a chuckle.

"Yeah, the same one." A sad smile reached the corners of his eyes as old memories resurfaced in his memory. "He was a tough man and always talked about how big an annoyance I am, but -" he gestured to the figurine and shrugged.

"Well, that explains why it looks like you," Elena bumped him with her shoulder. "I'm sure he could've already seen that you'll be a great guard."

"Oh, I don't think he even wanted me to be a guard," Gabe laughed again. "But you know, the situation was a bit different." He pondered something for a moment before continuing. "And to be fair, I didn't even realize that it was supposed to be a guard at the time, I was pretty sure he just came up with the design by himself. I only really connected the dots a few years ago, when I found this old thing again."

Elena nodded silently and put a comforting hand on his arm. She could see that this topic wasn't easy for him.

"Though maybe what you said was the point." He straightened suddenly and his gaze went back to the figurine. "Maybe he wasn't completely against me joining the guard, just... joining the right one."

His smile became wider and it was like his whole face lit up. Elena raised the little soldier's arms to make it cheer. They both laughed at how expressive this piece of wood was.

"So where is your coach now?" Elena asked, caressing the wooden toy one more time.

He only sighed at first and for a moment his gaze became clouded again, before he shook his head to cast the memories away.

"I wish I knew," he sent her a sad smile. "One day he just... disappeared. A few trinkets and one letter is all the proof I have that he wasn't just my hallucination."

Elena's lips twitched in a matching sad smile, but before she could say anything, they both heard a voice from downstairs, calling the unmistakable word 'dinner!'

Gabe clapped his hands on his knees and sprung up to his feet.

"Ah, just in time", he extended his hand to Elena. "I think eating is a much more fun topic than discussing the weird things I did in my childhood."

Elena examined his face for a moment more, but gave up on asking all the questions that pushed to the tip of her tongue. She sent him a smile instead and accepted his hand.

"Oh, you mean you did more weird things?" She made the little figurine gasp.

"I feel like I shouldn't have started this topic," Gabe laughed.

"Oh no, you won't escape now." She poked him in the chest and put the little soldier in his hand. "I gotta know all the crazy stories."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you something," Gabe raised his hands in defeat. "But you can't mention it to my parents, please, they'll never stop until they tell you my whole life story."

Elena made a theatrical gesture of tapping her lips in thought as she backed out of the room.

"I'll consider it," she sent him a wide grin and in a second turned and ran towards the stairs.

"Hey- wait!" Gabe called out, running right after her to save what was left of his reputation.

[mxmixusmercury]

I feel so stupid. I don’t know why I ever thought I was a plotter, I just write and shit happens. Doesn’t matter if I have a plan, I won’t follow it, I’ll just get possesed and next thing I know the characters are giggling on a couch together and making jokes about Austin. Fucking. Powers.

How the fuck did he even manage to get into his house??? That wasn’t the plan at all???