#hugo is a jerk

[stephicness]

Titan’s Tips!

[neil-gaiman]

Id like to let you know that I recently lost my annotated and very well-loved copy of Fragile Things in the San Diego Airport.

Rather, I lent it to a goth kid who'd been sitting next to me and wanted to know if I had an Android charger. I did. She plugged her phone in, and a pinhole light on the screen blinked into life. We both looked at the otherwise dead screen for a moment, and I asked her where she was flying to. New York, she said.

Then she asked me what book I was reading - Fragile Things, I told her, by the same guy who wrote Coraline. What's it *about*, though, she asked again.

Im at best a mediocre writer, so I rather gave her the book than trying to explain things myself. I figure some folks get Hugos for writing stories, and I should let 'em do it.

She didnt seem to mind my scribbles in the margins, and it was fun, watching a painted face that looked so somber and serious just a few minutes ago smile. A Study in Emerald had its surprising share of humour. After a while, I stopped paying attention and scrolled absentmindedly through my phone.

Then I hear my flight called - San Diego to Philadelphia, the boarding now, group C, C as in Coconut. I grab my bag, my phone, my ticket, pat my pockets down for my passport, my overstuffed backpack, precariously balanced on my carryon luggage, my headphone wires tangled in the strap of my purse and jerked out of my ears. I trot hastily over to the gate check - a smile, a beep, and I'm shuffled down the gangway and into the plane. My things stowed, and myself cozy against the window.

This was when I went to reach for my book, and realised that it was missing - still nestled comfortably in the hands of a 15-odd goth.

I miss my book. It had many memories in it, beyond the stories told there. My grandfather was still alive when i first read Fragile Things, and he was the one who gave it to me. But I hope that the kid who has it now will also love the stories you wrote. I hope maybe she will remember me and our little story, that we now share. Maybe she will also keep other memories of her own in there.

It seems an oddly fitting way for me to part with this book. It was an old fragile thing, given to me by a fragile man, and left to a child with whom i had only a fragile, tenuous connection.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into things, i don't know.

At any rate, if you read all this rambling, thank you mister Gaiman.

I hope it was the book she needed.

[vkelleyart]

Deal Announcement: WHEN THE TIDES HELD THE MOON (Erewhon, Spring 2025)

If you've been with me on Tumblr for a while, then you may already be familiar with this title and been waiting for this particular update, and all I can say is thank you endlessly for patiently sticking it out with me! I am so incredibly pleased to announce that WHEN THE TIDES HELD THE MOON has been acquired by Diana Pho at Erewhon Books/Kensington Publishing as an illustrated adult historical fantasy!

Tor.com has published a blush-inducing article which features some insights from me about what inspired the story, reactions from Hugo Award-winning editor Diana Pho on what drew her to the book, a downright tear-jerking endorsement from the incomparable TJ Klune, and my original concept art of Benny & Río. I hope you'll take a moment to read it at the link below!

This project is the culmination of a lifelong dream to write and illustrate my own books, and there are no words to convey the depth of my gratitude to Diana for the gift of seeing it be delivered as an illustrated adult work. Infinite thanks must also go to my unstoppable agent Saritza Hernandez, my phenomenal critique partners Anna Racine and Mark Duplane, and the many experts who generously and enthusiastically donated their time and resources in the middle of lockdown to help me bring 1911 Brooklyn, NY to life, including:

Virginia Sanchez-Korrol –– Professor Emeritus of Puerto Rican & Latino Studies, CUNY Brooklyn College

David Sharp -- President, The Waterfront Museum

Jamie Salen, David Favaloro, & Lana Rubin –– Marketing Director, Director of Curatorial Affairs, & Collections Manager (respectively), The Tenement Museum

Adam Realman -- Artistic Director, The Coney Island Circus Sideshow

More details about WTTHTM's release will be forthcoming, but in the meantime, thank you all again for believing in this story and supporting it when it was just a humble MerMay fic. I can't wait until you meet Benny and his beloved Río in print in 2025!

[kittenofdoomage]

The Midnight Diner

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: An unexpected rescue leads to an unbelievable revelation, and these two hotties being vampires is just the tip of the iceberg.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 8371

Warnings: alternate universe, threat/injury to reader, character death, attempted assault, gun violence, vampires (not SPN canon-typical vampires, I prefer the Vampire Diaries type), blood drinking, biting/marking, smut (full penetrative sex, spit roast, threesome, oral sex, fingering), fluff, angst, plot twists

Friday night was always busy at the Midnight Diner, which only closed two days a year; Easter and Christmas. It was a surprisingly successful business despite not offering delivery in a world where everyone wanted Ubereats right to their front door, and though it wasn’t where you had imagined your life would lead, you couldn’t complain too much. Okay, you would never be buying your own home, but you made enough to feed yourself and pay your share of the bills, and your boss was a rare good egg. You liked the night shift too, even the slow ones, because the regulars, and even the irregulars, were great inspiration for your real passion.

And Friday nights provided the most entertainment when the various nightclubs in the district spilled out, bringing the hungry drunks to the door. For two hours, you would be too busy to stop for so much as a drink, but it was worth it when it quietened down and your tip jar was full to bursting. Drunk people were apparently generous when someone was serving up a triple bacon sandwich with extra cheese at two AM.

The crowd was all but gone by three, leaving a few lonely souls and regulars behind. You always counted regulars as the ones that were there before you were, but there were a few faces that had become familiar in more recent months. Dean and Sam were two of them, brothers who only came in when all the revelers were gone; they were both tall, handsome, even if there was something odd about them you couldn’t put your finger on. Whatever it was wasn’t enough to stop you flirting, not even enough to hold back the crush you had on both of them.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” Dean crooned as he swept in through the door, Sam hot on his heels.

“Good morning,” you chuckled, gesturing to the clock. “Coffee?”

“You got it,” he grinned before turning his attention to the counter display, humming at the pies. “And a slice of the cherry pie,” he added, rubbing his hands together.

You jotted down the order, and the brothers wandered away to their usual table. It didn’t take more than a few moments to make the coffees, and you swiped the best looking slice of the cherry pie, sliding it onto a plate before carrying everything over to their table. “Busy night?” you asked.

Sam smirked, and Dean laughed under his breath. “Yeah, you know,” he shrugged, “work.”

With a friendly smile, you nodded your understanding. “Lemme know if you need anything else.”

Returning to the counter, you got comfortable in your seat, pulling out your sketchpad. Hugo - the cook - was out on a break, probably sneaking a joint at the back door, and all six patrons had their orders, leaving you with a few moments to yourself. Ordinarily, you preferred working on your iPad, but you hated taking it out with you, so at work, you settled for pen and paper, practicing anatomy and poses instead of working on any commissions you had outstanding.

“What are you working on?”

Dean’s voice made you jerk your head up in surprise, and you pulled the pencil away from the paper. “Oh,” you whispered, “uh, I was just practicing...” Showing your work to others had always been awkward for you; you had no problem posting them anonymously on your blog, but whenever someone asked to see your drawings in real life, you felt they were never good enough.

“Wow,” Dean murmured as he gazed at the simple drawing. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” you replied clumsily, avoiding his gaze as your face burned. “Did you need something?”

His eyes lifted to fix on you. “Sugar,” he chuckled, holding up the empty container from their table. “This one’s out, and I think someone stole all the others.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Not again. I’ll get some more and bring it over.”

Taking the container from him, you strolled through to the back, refilling it quickly. Hugo reappeared, raising an eyebrow at what you were doing. “I thought you did that last night,” he commented.

“Someone’s stolen them again,” you grumble, screwing the lid back on. “Do you remember where Oscar put the new box?”

Hugo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “I’ll get Denise to do it in the morning.”

His suggestion was gratefully received, seeing as you didn’t really relish the thought of spending the last two hours of your shift replacing them all. Saturday morning was quiet, Denise could handle the task when she arrived.

Running the sugar back to the brothers’ table, you handed it to Dean, who gave you a dazzling smile. “Thanks, darling.”

He’d never called you that before. You smiled back, then returned to the counter, feeling a little bit like a schoolgirl with a crush as you resumed your position at the till. An hour later and the brothers were leaving, both of them giving you a lingering hungry look as they walked out, the sort that sent a shiver running down your spine and inspired a few explicit imaginings.

It was hard to think of much else for the rest of your shift. 

Time crawled by until five, when Denise arrived and you could finally get home. Outside was still dark, marginally chilly, so you wrapped your coat around yourself and clutched your bag against your body, hurrying along each block as the sky began to lighten. You lived on the other side of the neighborhood, and the quickest route home was through an wide alleyway that stretched behind some warehouses, a passage you’d taken many times before.

On this occasion, it was not empty. You made it halfway before you noticed them, lounging in the large doorway of a warehouse, five men passing a joint between themselves. Keeping your head down, you kept walking, hopeful that they were just hanging out and not looking for any trouble.

“Not even a smile, honey?” one of them jeered.

You ignored it, continuing on, hurrying just a little more.

Two of them got up, moving to block your path. Panic set in, and you came to a stop, turning instantly to go back the way you’d come, but the other three were already up, preventing your escape. “Don’t be shy, baby,” the one who’d spoken laughed as he got a little closer. He reached out, and you dodged his touch, only to back up into one of his friends who grabbed ahold of your arms.

You struggled, kicking furiously at the one coming at you from the front. “Let me go!” you shrieked, fighting him when he caught hold of your face with one large hand. He smirked, so you spat in his face, receiving a hard blow to the jaw for your effort. The impact left you dazed, and the man holding you let go, pushing you to the floor. Your head connected with the concrete painfully; you whimpered, feeling something trickle down your forehead as the men surrounded you, closing your eyes as if that could make them go away.

“Hey!”

The shout preceded a loud thud, then more yelling followed. You remained frozen, bringing your arms up to shelter your head from whatever was happening, trying to fight the urge to pass out as dizziness and nausea overwhelmed you.

Everything stopped. Silence surrounded you, interrupted by distant traffic, and an odd gurgling sound that enticed you from the fetal position and onto your knees. You forced yourself upright, swaying slightly, throwing an arm out to try and gain some equilibrium as you opened your eyes.

Your attackers were scattered around. One was crumpled against a dumpster, another was bent awkwardly over the steps they were originally lounging on. Another one was only a few feet away, splayed across the floor, neck bloodied and eyes open in a lifeless stare. You lifted your head a little more, finally seeing who or what had saved you.

Sam had one of the last two on his knees as he tore at his throat, drinking greedily from the crimson that spilled out. Next to him was the last of your attackers, in Dean’s grip, dangling several inches off of the floor as Dean fed on him. A tiny gasp escaped you, and Sam’s eyes snapped open, deep black fading to hazel as he released the dead man to slump on the floor.

Whatever reaction you could have had to the scene was scrambled by the dizziness swamping you. Your knees trembled, and you felt yourself falling again, only to be caught by Sam, who had moved impossibly fast, cushioning your descent with his strong arms. You fought to keep your eyes open as he grasped your face, and the last thought you had before everything went black, was that maybe they’d kill you too.

The room that greeted you when you opened your eyes again was not familiar. It was dimly lit by several wall sconces, and the bed you were resting on was comfortable, so you didn’t move for a few seconds as you tried to recall what had happened. You were still dressed in the black shirt and pants you had worn to work, though your coat appeared to be hanging neatly on a hook across the room. The collar of your shirt was stiff with something, and that was when the memory of hitting your head came back to you, swiftly followed by the five possibly dead men, and your handsome diner regulars that had dispatched them by -

It wasn’t real.

Was it?

You sat up, just as Sam appeared silently in the doorway, making you jump. He smiled sheepishly, remaining where he was, obviously nervous of how you might react. “You’re awake,” he announced a little lamely. “How’s your head?”

Reaching up with your hand, you felt the raised wound. It was only an inch or so long, tender but not sore. “I-it’s okay,” you managed, eyeing him warily. “Those men -”

He straightened and cut you off. “Yeah, uh,” he scratched the back of his head with a light chuckle, “we can explain all of that, if you wanna…” His thumb jerked behind him, so you assumed he wanted you to follow him. Slowly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling a little sluggish as you got to your feet. “Are you okay?” he asked, watching as you tested your own balance.

“I think so,” you mumbled, touching the injury to your head again.

“Just take it slow,” he instructed with concern in his voice. “You might have a concussion.”

His worry over your injury went some way to assuring you that he wasn’t going to eat you, otherwise you would have still been in that alleyway, and your curiosity overrode any fear you held. You followed him out of the bedroom and into the hall, noting the lack of windows. “Who lives here?” you asked nervously, suddenly a little worried they had done the same thing to the occupants as they had to the men who attacked you.

Sam glanced back with a furrowed brow. “We do?” he answered with an inflection. “Uh, it’s a basement apartment, if you’re wondering about the windows.”

Your face filled with heat. “Oh.”

He smirked, leading you on into a large kitchen where Dean was lounging against a counter, and he looked up from his phone as his brother entered with you behind. “Hey,” he greeted with a smile, “how are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess,” you mumbled, smiling politely when Sam pulled out a chair at the table for you to sit down.

“Coffee?” Dean offered, and you nodded, clasping your hands together on top of the table. There was a patch of gravel rash across your fingers, probably from where you had fallen. “I can order breakfast if you’re hungry.”

You weren’t sure hunger was on your list of priorities. “Uh, no, I - I don’t even know what the time is.” Your phone suddenly appeared in front of you, and you blinked up at Sam, who smiled and withdrew to sit on the opposite side of the table. “T-thank you,” you whispered, picking it up. The only notification was an email informing you that your phone bill was due soon; you weren’t entirely surprised that your roommate failed to notice your lack of return. It was nearly midday, so you’d been out for a few hours, and apparently in the possession of vampires.

The phone clattered to the table as everything began to sink in, and the noise made both men look in your direction. Dean jerked his head at Sam, making a gesture to indicate he should talk, but you were pressing your palms into your eyes, trying not to see the bodies.

“Can I, uh, can we explain?” Sam asked gently.

You lifted your head to look at him, suddenly unable to summon a single emotion. “About the vampire thing or the five dead guys from the alley?” you choked out, following it up with a burst of laughter. “Or maybe I was hallucinating, ‘cause of the head injury. Because vampires aren’t real.”

“We’re pretty damn real, sweetheart,” Dean deadpanned, turning his back on you to make coffee.

“What Dean means -” Sam clarified, raising a finger. “Yes, we’re vampires. And yes, we killed those guys. Because if we didn’t, the things they planned to do to you would have happened to someone else.”

Your jaw dropped. “T-the things they -” You shook your head. “How could you know -”

“They weren’t good people,” Sam continued. “You know that.”

“What about the police?” you snapped. “They’re gonna find the bodies, they’re gonna -”

“Uh-huh,” Dean provided. “And it’ll be another unsolved crime in the city. They tend to overlook cases with extreme blood loss because they know guns don’t work on us.” He picked up the coffee he’d made, bringing it over to you and placing it on the table with a smirk. “Kinda funny that I’m serving you coffee now, huh?”

You failed to see any humor in the situation, though you took the drink gratefully. It was made exactly how you liked it, information you didn’t recall sharing with them, but when you looked at Dean, he only smiled a little more, taking a seat at the head of the table. 

“Are you guys actually brothers?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at them both.

“If we weren’t, I wouldn’t have put up with him for this long,” Sam grumbled, and Dean promptly kicked him underneath the table which was all the proof you needed that they were siblings. “I get this is a little weird, Y/N -”

“A little?” you squeaked. “A little?”

“Okay, a lot,” he amended sheepishly.

“You killed five guys in under a minute, drank their blood, and then kidnapped me.” Something occurred to you and your eyes widened. “How did you even know I was in that alley?”

Dean folded his arms across his chest, smirking irritatingly at his brother as the taller man fumbled his words. “Well, we, uh, I mean, we -”

“What Sammy is trying to articulate,” Dean interrupted, “is that we’ve been watching over you for a while.”

You scrunched up your face, uncertain how to take the confession. “Watching over me?”

Sam shot his brother a glare before his features softened and his gaze returned to you. He sighed, leaning heavily on the table. “We’ve been alive a long time, Y/N,” he said softly. “Even with each other, it gets lonely.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me,” you breathed, even if your mind was provided several ways that had something to do with you.

“It has everything to do with you,” Dean muttered, sitting forward with one hand on the table, the other on his knee. “We always talked about it, and then we came here. The second I saw you in that diner, I - we both knew. You’re… you’re special.”

You shook your head slowly, uncertain what special meant to them. Sam grimaced, huffing lightly. “Neither of us knew how to approach you,” he confessed quietly, “so we just kept going to the diner, kept getting to know you, and in the meantime, we kept you safe. Honestly, we never had to intervene until last night, and then…”

“We couldn’t leave you there to explain five dead bodies to the cops,” Dean finished.

That made sense, at the very least. You didn’t relish the thought of hours being grilled by the police when all the answers you had would probably lead to a psychiatric hold. “Okay,” you muttered. “So, say this is all real, and not some concussion-based fever dream - why am I special?”

They looked at each other, like they were holding a silent conversation. You sat back, folding your arms across your chest, watching them expectantly. The seconds ticked past and neither of them spoke, giving rise to a ball of frustration in your throat.

Dean clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and rolled his eyes. “You’re ours,” he stated firmly as Sam grunted his name in disagreement, earning himself a sharp look from his brother. “We said we’d tell her the truth, Sam, I’m just ripping the bandaid off.” His attention turned back to you, cutting off your confused questions before the first one could even make it out of your mouth. “Me and Sam, we’re not, uh, typical of vampires. Most vampires have a kindred spirit, someone who belongs to them, who they belong to.”

“Like soulmates?” you asked curiously, glancing between him and Sam.

Sam smirked, and Dean chuckled. “Something like that,” he agreed. “Except for us? That someone is just one person.” His eyes locked on yours, and a new, strange feeling slithered down your spine. “You.”

Your heart felt like it was pounding with the weight of his gaze. “How… how do you know that it’s me?”

“We just know,” Sam murmured solemnly.

“Like you knew those men would hurt me?” you whispered, letting your hands fall into your lap. “I’m really not dreaming, am I?”

Dean shook his head. “We’re not monsters, Y/N,” he said softly.

The recollection of the dead men made your stomach twist. “But you’ve killed people.”

“Not monsters,” Sam repeated. “But we are predators. Humans are our prey, we can’t survive without blood. Most of the time, it’s catch and release. They never remember a thing.”

You knew his justification didn’t make it right. Despite what those men had done, what they could have done, the guilt of their death was a weighted burden on your soul. “Do you…” Your lips were too dry, so you wet them, attempting your question again. “Do you feel bad about it?”

“About them?” Sam clarified, and you nodded. “No.”

“Others, yes,” Dean added cautiously. “We weren’t always as restrained, or as careful.”

At least they were honest about it, you mused, looking down at your hands, rubbing your thumb over the patch of damaged skin. “So what do you want from me?” you asked, lifting your eyes to them again. “If I’m… special. What does that mean? Are you going to keep me here?”

“No,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever happens next is your choice.”

“What do you want though?” you pressed, leaning forward. “Am I supposed to… to become like you?”

They shared another look, another silent conversation. Dean spoke first, turning his green gaze on you with a flash of the same hunger he’d shown you the night before. “We both want that - eventually. But it has to be your choice.”

“And you don’t have to make it right away,” Sam continued on quickly, his tone stressing his point. “Right now, we just want you to get to know us.” He smiled, resting his elbows on the table. “We waited a long time to find you, and we can wait for however long as you need.”

You stared at him, wondering if he sounded so confident about it because he was right. There had been an attraction to both of them the minute they’d walked into the diner, and you’d spent too many hours thinking about them, even sketching them, to dismiss the idea of belonging to them easily. But it was still overwhelming, a little hard to digest when you’d spent your whole life being told the supernatural didn’t exist. 

“I think, uh, I think maybe I should go home,” you finally decided. “This is… a lot.”

Sam nodded, getting to his feet. “Of course,” he agreed with a smile. “Lemme get your coat.”

He disappeared, leaving you alone with Dean, who was still watching you, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. You looked back at him nervously, unused to being under such scrutiny - the only person who’d ever told you that you were special was your grandmother, and she was gone now, along with the rest of your family. The idea of being important to someone was a far off memory; you hadn’t had a boyfriend in three years, and you spent most of your time alone or at work. Picking up your coffee, you drained it despite the heat, putting the cup down as something occurred to you.

“How old are you?” you asked suddenly.

Dean blinked, then smiled. “I was thirty-two when I turned,” he replied. “In 1759.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Wow. You’re -”

“Nearly three hundred,” he chuckled. “I know, I look great, right?”

The joke made you smile, and you ducked your head, feeling warmth in the tip of your ears. Sam returned, holding out your jacket and shoes as he placed your bag on the table. “We’re only a couple of blocks from your apartment,” he murmured. “I can call a cab if you like or -”

“I wanna ask how you know where I live,” you replied warily. “And how Dean knew exactly how I take my coffee.” You sighed, taking your shoes to drop them on the floor. “But I’m getting a headache so…” Fixing a smile on your face, you slipped your shoes on. “I can walk. It’s not raining or anything, right?”

“Nope,” Dean grumbled. “It’s a really nice sunny day.”

The penny dropped. “Right,” you breathed. “Because sunlight -”

“Does absolutely nothing,” Sam finished with a laugh. “There’s a lot of old wives tales that some authors like to spin.”

Your smile tightened. “Information for another time.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping back when you rose to put your jacket on. “Maybe take some Tylenol for your head,” he suggested. “I put our numbers in your phone.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sliding your phone into your bag. “I’m gonna go sleep this headache off and, uh, I’ll text, or something. Or you can text. I’m -” You sighed, dropping your shoulders. “I’m gonna go…”

Dean didn’t follow as Sam led you to the front door, which opened up to a set of stone steps directly onto the street. You recognized where you were as soon as you stepped out, and you turned to look back at Sam, realizing you hadn’t thanked them for saving you.

“Listen, I wanna -” Pausing, you clung to your bag, and he waited, giving you time to answer. “Thank you for saving me. I… I know I’d probably be dead or worse right now if -” The words trailed off, and you sighed, shaking your head. “Thank you.”

He watched you for a moment, then he smiled gently, bowing his head for a brief second. “Go get some rest,” he urged. “We’ll talk soon.”

It took all of twelve hours for your curiosity to get the better of you, and while a part of you thought there might be something otherworldly drawing you towards the brothers, you didn’t decline when Dean asked if you wanted to spend the evening with them. You weren’t sure what to expect when you returned to their strange underground home, so when you arrived to find they’d cooked dinner for you, you were pleasantly surprised.

The whole evening was bewildering. Just being around them put you at ease, and they answered every single one of your questions without hesitation, holding nothing back. They told you about their lives, before and after their turning, spinning one wild tale after another, with each brother often correcting the other when they didn’t recall things the same. You listened to everything they said, enjoying their company more as the evening progressed, eventually dozing off on their couch before they decided it was probably time you went home to your bed.

You returned the next night. When you had to go to work, you lamented not being able to see them, resorting to text messages that had you smiling to yourself behind the till. At the end of your Monday night shift, they appeared just as you were leaving, insistent on walking you home. They did the same the next morning, and the next, and it began to feel like a physical torment to separate yourself from them. Your next weekend off, you barely bothered to return home, finding better rest in their presence than you might have ever had in your life.

Every day, their belief that you were theirs seemed a little more true. You’d never been great at keeping relationships with people going, spending most of your time alone or in online communities. It had always been hard to form long lasting connections, something you’d always put down to your introverted nature, but with the brothers, it was like they drew out a person you’d never been before. They made you feel something new, something you didn’t want to let go of.

It was only natural when the relationship moved beyond just talk within a few weeks. You had stayed the night, or rather, the day after work, sharing a bed with both the brothers, and had woken up sandwiched between them. Vampires did sleep, albeit lightly, and they were surprisingly warm, though Sam had explained that they were only as warm as their surroundings. When Dean had stirred, face to face with you, the impulse to kiss him was too strong to ignore, and when he responded, it had escalated. Sam woke only seconds after, and soon you were dizzy and breathless from their attention.

As much as you wanted to take it further, you had to get to work. The whole night, you were antsy, glancing at the clock every five minutes and cursing the slowness of time. When the brothers arrived shortly before the end of your shift, you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face, even when Hugo teased you about it. Dean and Sam both waited patiently for you to finish up, ready to walk you home, but you stopped them just outside the diner, looking between them nervously.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you whispered shyly. “At least… not my home.”

They smirked at each other, and then Dean gestured down the sidewalk to a large black classic car. “Good thing I brought the car tonight,” he chuckled.

“Meet Dean’s pride and joy,” Sam sighed. “He’s talked about it enough.”

“Her,” Dean corrected. “Don’t bad mouth my Baby, Sammy.”

The car didn’t seem entirely practical, even if the leather upholstery was comfortable. You sat in the middle of the back, clutching the edge of the seat as Dean fired up the engine, obviously showing off just a little. “Humor him,” Sam laughed, and you gave a quick thumbs up of approval.

It was a quick drive back to their apartment, and you got more nervous the closer you got. If they noticed your apprehension, they didn’t draw attention to it, at least, not until you were inside, hovering anxiously in the lounge. Sam approached first, taking your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, running his hand along your arm up to your shoulder before stopping to cradle your cheek. You leaned into it, smiling as you met his gaze.

“It’s… I’m out of practice,” you admitted, covering his hand with your own. “And there’s two of you. And you’re vampires. Makes me… nervous.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “We only bite if you ask nicely,” he joked.

The ferocity of your body’s reaction to that thought took you off guard. Arousal pounded between your thighs, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to tear your gaze off of his. “I want it,” you whispered, moving closer to him. He groaned, leaning down to kiss you.

“Getting started without me?” Dean muttered in a good natured tone as he entered the room, loitering in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

You broke away from Sam sheepishly, and he stepped away, tugging you towards his brother. You followed, feeling your heart pound as they led you into the bedroom. Dean took Sam’s place and kissed you, guiding you down onto the bed. “I’m a little lost on the logistics,” you confessed quietly. “I’ve never - not with two -” You could feel a babble coming on, so you shut your mouth, hoping your inexperience wasn’t a problem.

Dean’s thumb swiped across your cheek before his fingers curled under your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “That’s pretty much the dealer's choice,” he murmured. “You being the dealer, darlin’.”

“Oh.” You inhaled sharply as Sam moved to sit on your other side. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“Being naked is a good start,” Dean suggested lewdly, stripping his shirt over his head. For a second, you could only stare at his bare chest, feeling your mouth getting dry as your core started to throb. On your other side, Sam was now shirtless too, and you felt a little self-conscious in the low bedroom light.

Sam moved so quickly, you didn’t realize he’d done anything until the light went off and the dim lamps came on. You inhaled sharply, steeling yourself before unbuttoning your shirt, sliding it off shyly. As if sensing your apprehension, Dean pulled you into a kiss as Sam tugged your shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it, immediately putting his mouth on your bare shoulder.

“D-do we need anything?” you gasped as Dean’s fingers explored underneath your bra, pulling down the cups until he could thumb at your nipples. “Condoms?”

With a low chuckle, Sam shook his head. “No need,” he promised softly, letting his hand drop to the fastening of your pants.

You nodded listlessly, moving when Dean snapped the fastening on your bra to get rid of it entirely. He pushed you backwards until you were laying across the bed, laying beside you while Sam dragged your pants down your legs, leaving you in only your panties. They went next, sliding off under nimble fingers that returned to pry your knees apart, and you gasped when Sam’s lips brushed against your sensitive inner thigh. Before you could make a sound, Dean kissed you, thrusting his tongue against yours as his brother’s mouth descended on your cunt.

All your earlier nerves were all but obliterated, and when Dean turned his attention to your breasts, you could only just about remember to breathe. He sucked one hard nipple between his lips, and you thread your fingers through his short hair, moaning as Sam’s tongue teased your clit. It was deliriously pleasurable, but you wanted more, managing to whimper as Dean lifted his head to look at you. “Bite me,” you begged, watching the edges of his eyes begin to darken as his fangs descended.

He glanced at Sam, who only shrugged, intent on keeping up the torment on your clit. Your hips rocked against his touch, tightening your fingers in Dean’s hair.

“Please,” you whispered desperately.

Lowering his head again, he ran his tongue around your hardened peak, then lower, pressing his mouth to the swell of your breasts. There was a tiny prick of pain as his fangs pierced your skin, but the first slight pull on your blood had your eyes rolling back. Sam groaned as you shuddered, shifting to press two fingers against your entrance, sinking them in without stopping his assault on your clit.

You came within seconds, crying out with your fingers in Dean’s hair, writhing desperately as Sam pushed you higher. Dean groaned as he stopped feeding from you, dragging his tongue over the wound before lifting his head to crush his mouth against yours, cutting off your cries. The taste of your own blood invaded your mouth, startlingly not unpleasant, and when you nipped at Dean’s lip, he pulled back in surprise, a smile spreading across his lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as Sam kept nuzzling into you, using his tongue in slow strokes right through your swollen lips. The bed shifted when Dean got up to remove the rest of his clothing, and when it dipped under his weight, you opened your eyes to his glorious nudity, and new desire pooled in your belly.

“C’mere,” he beckoned, moving up the bed to sit at the headboard. Lust drove your movements as Sam withdrew, and you heard him shedding his pants behind you as you crawled towards Dean, stopping short of straddling him as his cock caught your attention. His head thudded against the headboard when you dipped to lick at him, moaning when you wrapped your fingers around the shaft and squeezed.

The bed moved by your feet, and you glanced back to see Sam, now as naked as you and Dean. You couldn’t resist wiggling your rear in his direction, only for him to grab at it with one meaty hand, holding you in place as he positioned himself behind you. Dean’s cock twitched in your hand, and you turned your attention back to him, using your tongue to circle his tip while Sam ground his length against your bare cunt. You responded by pressing back into him, eager for him to fill you, but he resisted, continuing to tease you as you teased Dean.

Dean’s fingers tickled along the side of your head, encouraging you to take him into your mouth. He moaned decadently, and Sam chose that moment to thumb the tip of his generous cock into you, penetrating just enough for you to feel the stretch around his girth. You tried to focus, emitting muffled little whimpers as Sam rocked back and forth, filling you a little more at a time.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean groaned, tightening his hold on your head. “Stop teasing her and give her what she wants.”

The other brother laughed under his breath, then thrust forward, burying every inch inside you. You felt like the air was punched from your lungs, so you lifted your head, keeping hold of Dean with one hand while you caught your breath, gasping loudly as pleasure buzzed outwards from where Sam was throbbing deep in your cunt. “Oh god,” you whined. “Fuck.”

It felt different than any other lover you’d had before. Maybe it was because Sam wasn’t quite as warm as you; the only warmth his skin held was what he leeched from you and the air around him. He was definitely bigger, thicker, pushing the limits of what you felt you could take.

Seconds ticked by, and Dean’s hips jerked slightly, reminding you of what you had been doing. Giving him a shy grin, you dragged your tongue up his length, then slid your lips over him; Sam started to move with shallow thrusts, holding your hips in place with ease. You lost yourself in both of them, moaning around Dean’s cock when Sam started to fuck you harder, and when a hand slipped underneath you, long fingers easily finding your clit, you responded by taking Dean deeper.

You’d never been so aroused in your life. Sucking cock had always been a favor, but somehow with them, you felt a desperate need to please, growing wetter with every impact of Sam’s hips against yours, with every twitch of Dean’s dick in your mouth. Your first climax shuddered through you, and they kept going, pushing you higher until you were almost dizzy with pleasure.

Sam’s enthusiasm grew when he felt your cunt squeeze him; he dragged you away from Dean and upright, holding you with one hand loosely around your throat. You gasped, looking at Dean as he watched, one hand wrapped around his dick, eyes heavy and hungry. 

“You want me to bite you too?” Sam grunted, right against your ear. All you could do was nod eagerly, still trembling from the orgasm he’d fucked you through. He growled, slamming into you harder until you were crying out, and with one last powerful thrust, he came, sinking his fangs into your throat as he filled you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, a low whimper falling from your lips when fresh pleasure blossomed in your gut.

He didn’t take too much, releasing you gently when he was done, and you dropped onto your hands, gasping as he withdrew. You couldn’t think through the flood of bliss in your veins, so when Dean pulled you towards him, you went willingly, straddling him as he lined up and tugged you down onto his cock. One hand held you down, full to the brim again, and the other cupped your breast, guiding your nipple to his mouth.

Instinct made you grind down onto him, and he growled, fucking up into you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, throwing your head back as he filled you over and over, riding the wave of ecstasy until you were trembling from head to toe. He didn’t stop until he was spilling into you, abandoning your breast to kiss you again. When he stilled, you felt like you were floating, and your whole body shook as you reluctantly lifted yourself off.

You landed on your back, gasping for breath as you came down from the high they’d driven you to. “Is it too soon to say I’m falling head over heels?” you laughed, feeling them press in close on either side of you.

“You know,” Dean mumbled against your bare shoulder, “when you’re like us, this will feel a million times more intense.”

You should have been perturbed at how comfortable you were with the idea of being like them when he mentioned it; you’d figured that eternity was their end game early on, but you had never imagined your own easy acceptance of it. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted it, and that alone should have frightened you. “It does?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmhmm,” Sam hummed, one hand sliding over your hip. “Everything’s more intense.”

By the time you pulled yourself away from their bed that evening, you’d all but decided you were done with the mortal coil. The brothers had been right about where you belonged, and more than that, you wanted it. Forever didn’t sound so scary if you got to spend it with them.

You felt like you were floating as you walked to work, replaying moments with them over and over, smiling to yourself. Hugo was the first to comment when you made it through the door at The Midnight Diner, but you were in too good a mood to let it bother you. Even folding napkins couldn’t dampen your spirit.

Usually, you would pride yourself on your ability to read a customer. You could tell if someone was trouble, yet when he first walked in, nervously requesting a coffee to go, you didn’t pick up on the weird vibes he was giving you. With a smile on your face, you prepared his drink and rang him up on the till, only to realize he’d covered his face, and he was now holding a gun. You threw your hands up, and another customer noticed the exchange, screeching when she saw the gun.

The man instantly turned his weapon to her. “No!” you cried, getting his attention back on you. “You want money, right?”

“Empty the drawer,” he snapped, fingers shaking on the pistol.

You hit the button, opening the till drawer, pulling out everything in there. He grabbed for it, needing only one hand, and it was obvious he was unhappy. “T-that’s everything,” you stuttered, feeling sweat bead on your forehead.

“You’re lying,” he growled, pocketing the seventy-five bucks. “You gotta have more.”

“It’s emptied every day,” you shrieked when he thrust the gun closer, finger on the trigger.

“Hey!” Hugo’s voice made you turn your head to where he was standing with his own weapon brandished. The man twitched, and time seemed to slow to a near-stop.

The sound of a gunshot made you jump, and you stared at the man in the balaclava as his jaw went slack, gaze dropping to the blood slowly soaking through your shirt. You looked down, moving one hand to press at the wound to your stomach, vaguely registering the gunman’s departure as your knees grew weak. “Shit,” you whispered, crumbling to the ground.

Hugo was beside you in an instant, uselessly padding the wound with napkins as he yelled for someone to call an ambulance. You stared at the ceiling, tasting blood on your tongue, wondering why it didn’t hurt more, and you drifted, struggling to keep your eyes open as the chef begged you to stay with him.

The paramedics arrived in what felt like a blink. They asked questions, and you tried to pay attention, but all you could think about was that maybe you should have said yes to Sam and Dean while you could. It felt like the end, your end, at the hands of a stranger with a gun, on the faded linoleum tiles of The Midnight Diner.

Somewhere, you registered the concern of the medics attending to you. They chattered quickly, mentioning blood loss, words that sounded important but held no meaning to you. “My phone,” you choked out, tasting more blood as you tried to move, and then the pain kicked in. “Sam -”

One of the paramedics pressed against your shoulder, keeping you flat. “You need me to call somebody, hon?”

All you could manage was a nod. Everything was getting dim, becoming too hard to focus, so you closed your eyes, letting the sounds fade too. For a moment, the world was still, and quiet, peaceful. Something beckoned to you to let go, like a tug on your soul, and for a moment, you thought about how easy it would be.

A soft beeping infiltrated the darkness. Heaviness filled you, and you realized it was your own body weighing you down. The cold floor you’d been on was gone, replaced by softness, and with a low groan, you opened your eyes to see a strange woman in a white coat standing over you. She smiled sadly, and you felt the whisper of a touch on your arm.

“She’s awake,” she murmured, looking away from you, prompting you to follow her line of sight with a turn of your head.

Sam and Dean were standing in the shadows of the small room. You felt a sweeping relief when you saw them, even if the expressions on their faces matched the same sadness the woman seemed to have. She spoke your name softly, making you look back at her, and you knew that whatever she had to say wasn’t good.

“I’m Doctor Freely. Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

The man in the diner. The gun. You remembered it all. “I was shot,” you rasped, feeling moisture in your eyes.

She nodded. “The bullet did a lot of damage,” she explained hesitantly. “We’ve tried to repair it but it hit your liver.” You frowned at her, and her smile became sympathetic, the pity in her words palpable. “We did everything we could. Your only hope is a transplant but -” The implication was clear as she trailed off, and you clenched your jaw, tears clinging to your lashes.

You were going to die.

“We’re doing everything we can to make you comfortable,” she whispered, obvious distress on her face, though you imagined you were not the first person she’d ever told they were going to die.

“How long?” you asked, throat clogging with emotion.

“Hours,” she replied. “Maybe days.”

You nodded, blinking away tears as you turned your head away and closed your eyes. The doctor sighed, glancing at Sam and Dean before retreating without another word, and before the door could click shut, they were at your side. “We shoulda been there,” Dean murmured, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“You didn’t know,” you replied in a shaky voice, though you couldn’t open your eyes for fear that the tears would overwhelm you. The pain of your injury was beginning to push through the numb, heavy feeling; everything about your body felt wrong, which you guessed should be unsurprising if you were that badly hurt. “I don’t -” You swallowed, finally forcing yourself to look at them, and your fear was proved right when fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I don’t wanna die.”

Sam’s hand cupped your jaw. You looked up at him as he wiped your tears away with his thumb, smiling at you softly. “I know you wanted to wait,” he murmured, “but I don’t think that’s an option anymore.”

“W-will it work?” you asked. “You said that sometimes -”

He cut you off by shaking his head. “You’re strong enough,” he assured you. “You fought your way back to us once already.”

Dean’s voice was low when he spoke, drawing your gaze to him. “Your heart stopped in the diner,” he explained, taking hold of your hand. You could see the moisture in his eyes, so you gripped his hand back, ignoring the discomfort of the IV underneath your skin. “If we do this, we don’t have much time.”

Hours, you thought to yourself. Before all this, you’d been planning for weeks, months, and now, the choice had been taken away. You were surprised you didn’t feel more grief for the life you were leaving behind. “Who’s gonna -” Kill me, you finished in a thought, knowing they would understand.

“We agreed it should be Sam,” Dean replied, sharing a look with his brother. 

You nodded. “What happens next?”

They had already told you how vampires were made - you had to drink their blood and then, essentially, die. “Your heart will stop and the venom will change you,” Sam explained softly. “You’ll be out for around twelve hours. And then you’ll wake up.”

“We’ll make sure we’re there,” Dean added, still clinging to your hand. “We won’t leave you.”

“And then everyone will assume I’m dead, right? I can’t -” You sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t ever see anyone I know again.”

Sam smiled sadly. “They’ll think you died from your injuries. We can get your stuff from your apartment, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

The pain was getting stronger. Your chest hurt, and breathing was making your whole body ache. “It hurts,” you murmured. The machines registering your heart rate started to beep faster, and the brothers looked up in alarm. “I don’t -”

Yanking the plug from the wall, Dean silenced the alarm before it could start. “Now, Sam,” he ordered. “We can’t wait.” He released your hand, moving towards the door to keep a look out as Sam cradled your face again, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Don’t be frightened,” he soothed as you gasped for breath, nodding your consent. Your eyes filled with fresh tears as he bit into his wrist, sending crimson trickling over his pale skin, and when he offered the wound to you, you didn’t hesitate. His blood was cold, dribbling sluggishly into your throat until you couldn’t swallow anymore, and he pulled away, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips.

Just like in the diner, your vision began to gray and blur. Sam reached over to plug the machine back in, and instantly the monitors went wild. Dean opened the door, yelling for help, and Sam stepped back as medical staff flooded the room. Your eyes fluttered shut, and everything stopped as the machines let out one last long steady bleat.

One Week Later…

There was a vacant table in The Midnight Diner. In the middle, pushed up against the wall, was the last employee photo you had ever taken, surrounded by flowers and little notes from the regulars and other staff. You had read every single one as you stood on the other side of the road, giving one last goodbye to the life you were leaving behind. Dean and Sam had been sleeping when you left them, but they’d find you easily enough.

You’d never realized the need they felt for you was so deep, at least not until you’d woken up with the same insatiable pull, though it felt like something you couldn’t adequately put words to. It was a stronger sensation than anything you’d felt in your human life, giving you a deeper understanding of why they’d been so drawn to you.

“There you are,” Dean murmured, appearing in the shadows beside you. You smiled at him, then looked back at the diner, sighing softly as Sam appeared on your other side. “Are you ready?”

“I think so,” you replied, feeling a small measure of sadness for the person you’d been. You wished you could have told the ones who cared about you that you were okay, but it was far easier to disappear this way. There was a funeral with an empty casket to be held tomorrow - you weren’t sticking around for that weirdness.

They had closure, both with your burial, and the arrest of the man who had been responsible for shooting you. Dean had suggested finding him yourselves and dealing with it, but you didn’t feel any need for revenge when you’d been headed for this future one way or another.

Sam’s hand slipped into yours, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Where do you wanna go first?” he asked.

Your smile grew. “Anywhere,” you whispered, looking at him, then Dean, taking his hand too. “As long as it’s with you.”

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

[snakeunderyourboot]

Finished reading “Under the Whispering Door” by TJ Klune and I need to scream about it, so beware spoilers ESPECIALLY under the cut

okay, so I have read 2 other TJ Klune books - The House in Cerulean Sea and In the Lives of Puppets, and while the first was an easy and happy read, the second is my top 5 books EASILY. I love In the Lives of Puppets, I love the world-building, characters, narration, ending, every little thing that is there - I love it.

So I was looking into some other TJ Klune books and I was considering reading Under the Whispering Door before and the only thing stopping me was the premise. You see, when you read the short description of the book, the first impression you will get is that this book is about asshole character that died but then brought back to life and now has 7 days to become a better person while living in the tea shop with this strange guy. And you will think how now this asshole character would try to change his life in 7 days, but also will fall in love with this strange guy and its going to be very sad, because they cant be together and then something will happen and they will get a chance to live happily ever after. Also the asshole guy will change himself completely in just 7 days. The premise is sort of interesting, but also seems so unoriginal and predictable, that I pulled off reading it for a long time.

BUT I was going on a stressful trip and I needed some nice cute book, to better my mood and I knew that TJ Klune books are always very funny and have a good moments, so I decided fuck it. Even if plot was going to be predictable at least there are going to be cool characters and it would do a fine job of keeping me company during this trip.

LET ME TELL YA HOW WRONG I WAS

Not about the characters, they are amazing and I love all of them, but about the plot. The premise is totally lying, because the book does start with a main character death and he stays DEAD. The whole deal with “7 days to live” comes only in a second half of the book and I was so shocked when it happened, because I completely forgot about it.

In fact, we spend huge deal of first chapters just getting to know Wallace(main character) and how the death works(really cool concept by the way, love it). The other characters are also great and I loved each and every of them. From Hugo who is such a patient and nice and encouraging, but at the same time so troubled and hurt, but he cant afford himself to break because other depend on them; to Mei who is actually pretty funny and a deep character, who experienced a lot and it shaped how she behaves, but she still chooses to be better; to Nelson, who is the best old man ever, the guy made me laugh so many times and cry, like Nelson is such a cool grandad(I didnt met my grandad, he passed when I was little, so I got attached to Nelson so quickly); to Apollo who is the best boy ever, the best dog; and to every other small character that appeared in the book. TJ Klune always has great characters, but my god in this book they are all amazing.

Wallace was also interesting character, that I grew to love with every chapter. His change from asshole to an actually nice guy felt a little bit rushed? Honestly, I noticed in TJ Klune’s books, characters who start as assholes but then changed to a nice guys, always have a good start and good finish but a little meh middle? Like Wallace was presented as such a big jerk and by even a middle of the book he become a completely different character which threw me off a little. On the other hand, considering that he died and then put into an unknown situation for who knows how long, maybe it is understandable why he changed so much. Still, I would prefer if he stayed a little bit as a jerk, just a little. A nice amount. Still, I liked him and his progression.

Remember what I said about Nelson making me laugh? This book is so funny, I laughed so much. Genuinely, the jokes are almost always hitting right in the center, especially the running ones. People who read the book - Walce truly does have a legs for it;))

The only thing that I a little bit disappointed about was the ending AND HERE IS HUGE SPOILERS DONT READ IT IF YOU HAVENT READ THE BOOK GIVE IT A CHANCE PLEASE GO RIGHT NOW AND READ DO NOT LOOK FOR MORE EVEN IF SOMETHING THAT I SAID BEFORE INTERESTED YOU EVEN A LITTLE GO AND READ IT I PROMISE YOU ITS REALLY GOOD

okay okay here the ending

I knew that Wallace wasn’t going to really go, even if book truly tried so hard to make me feel like that(and did a very good job with it, BUT I JUST KNEW he is going to be alright) and I thought that by the end he is going to remain a ghost but will now be allowed to stay in Tea Shop.And it sort of happened, expect he was also resurrected and made into a ferryman. Which felt too good to be true. I think I would prefer if he stayed dead but was allowed to stay in Tea Shop and they still had a relationship with Hugo even without touching and kissinf. I dont know, I feel like it could have been interesting and not as nice as the actual ending is. For all the talk in this book how life is unfair and we need to deal with it and try to get the best if it, the ending kind of undermines it. Maybe thats just aroace talking in me._.

Also can I talk how amazingly Wallce and Hugo fot for each other? Hugo who always put everyone first and then himself, who never allows himself to have something good, sometimes that he truly wants and Wallace who always took everything for himself and never thought about anyone. And how with Wallace, Hugo allowed himself to care and fight and ask for nice things for himself and he still cares about people, but now he cares about himself too. And how with Hugo, Wallace learn to care about other people and putting their needs first and how it culminated into him basically sacrificing himself for the good of others, because he truly learned how to love. They are such a good fit together, perfectly combining their strengths and weaknesses, like damn, my poor babies

TL;DR this book is amazing, olease read it, I love it so much

[nsharks]

Whos hugo again

He is the one we saw torturing ghost but also snuck into where Twix was held to jerk off to them naked

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1 of bracket one

Propaganda:

For Felix:

Best sword fighting unit in the game outside of the MC. He cares so much about sword fighting it is almost his identity. 2 of is paired endings is basically “historians say they were great friends”. He died on the same day as his childhood best friend in one, in another he cried more than the kings wife when the king died .

He’s awful. Like actually so mean and that’s why we love him. But when push comes to shove he actually has one of the most unbreakable moral codes. Felix is bisexual in the most bisexual way possible. His three most popular ships include: a man he insists he hates but dies on the same day as because “they can’t live without each other”, a man who Felix insists he hates and after said man’s death Felix spends the rest of his life protecting his burial, and finally a nice woman that he really likes to hear sing and they become teachers together. He has brother trauma, after his brother’s death he HATES knights because of something his dad said. So he also daddy issues. In conclusion: Very mean, interesting taste in men, loves women, has daddy issues

For Alucard:

He has a sword that he can command to fly around. He's bisexual. He's depressed. He's both the direct opposite of his father and too much like him. He's part of the most disastrous polycule to ever exist. He's a jerk. I love him, he's very important to me.

Symphony of the Night has too much of a cultural impact to not have him be included here. He’s an aroace icon with a huge sword collection (he’s bisexual in the animated series). He has a flying sword familiar and a sword he can hold in his hands. Loves taking naps. 

[alchemicourtesy]

HEYEY! glad to see more people into vat7k!!! Would you mind sharing more of the insight n what your perceptions of the characters are? I saw your post about Hugo n Var as well as the involvement with Nuru in the tags and was wondering!!! No pressure ofc <3 also love your art it's REALLY AWESOME !

hi! thank you so much :] im rlly glad ur interested... as new as i am to this story and world i'm still ironing out my own opinions and headcanons and ideas so everything is in a rough place atm but i'd love to talk about what i Do have right now ^^

i'm sort of operating under the idea of what this would look like if it were a tv show rather than a comic only for the sake of structure and me being able to visualize it haha. doesnt mean anything beyond that.

i love the idea of there being 7 kingdoms, 7 alchemic laws, and 7 "lessons" for the characters to learn and id probably divide it through 3 seasons with the last season focusing on either 2 or 1 (heavy emphasis on what would be the "library arc") and allocating the extra "arcs" to s1. but anyways

mainly i like the idea of like. each of the group getting a chance to shine an equal amount. obviously they'd all have something to gain from every lesson but imo id put a particular emphasis on them all getting 2 each to hammer home their development and experiences. i havent ironed out who learns what and its not like...an exact science rn so thats a work in progress

nuru is interesting to me in particular bc i think theres a notable position she is in being a princess and wanting to be hands on. for her character particularly i feel like its important she be able to learn how to care for her subjects and hone the skills she needs for the responsibility she has but also allowing herself to understand herself as a person and an individual without having to sacrifice her duty to her people and her community. too many times i see in media where a character has this huge responsibility and they have to learn to care about and understand Themselves first and while thats important i feel like its not always possible or feasible and also it's hard. it's rlly hard to grapple with both of those things at the same time. and nuru being a princess she Wants to help her people. she Wants to have the responsibility to care for them but she still must learn what that will look like for her specifically and how she can be that person she wants to be without phoning it in or anything.

with yong i saw it was mentioned he has a huge loving family that supports him and wants to see him succeed, but he's just sort of wild and unpredictable in ways i think varian can relate to from when he was younger. there's nothing really "wrong" with yong, but he has to understand and learn balance and control where he struggles with it and that he can be the person he wants to be but there has to be instances where he takes his time and understands that progress isnt linear. which gives varian a good place to act as an older brother figure obviously bc thats shit he himself learned in tts lol

varian's arc Kind of began and ended in tts so i just see vat7k as a way of expanding on stuff he already has learned yet not rlly like. rehashing stuff he should already know

hugo is a little trickier for me bc i think there are a Lot of similarities he shares narratively with eugene (which makes sense given that he was said to have been acquainted with eugene in the past, at least somewhat). they're similar but they're not the Same, so i wouldnt want hugo to just be repeating the same beats that eugene already learned. in my opinion hugo is smug and he thinks somewhat highly of himself, but hes not a bragger. hes not snarky nor will he actively antagonize the group. what reason would he have to? he wants them to like and trust him and i dont rlly see that happening if hes always being a jerk to them haha.

thats all i got for now i think but feel free to ask me abt more stuff if ur interested : )

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #12 – What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher

I initially meant to read this back last year when it was up for a Hugo nomination, but well – honestly I forgot my copy in an airport waiting room and it’s presumably now living a good life somewhere in a New Jersey compose heap. But a friend had a copy and said they enjoyed it, so! Stole it for a few days, and very glad I did. It’s a quick, fun shot fungal gothic, great for stormy nights.

The basic plot is, well, it’s very explicitly Fall of the House of Usher with a slight admixture of Ruritanian Romance. The Ushers are a genteely impoverished family of minor aristocracy in Ruravia, a less than impressive principality in Eastern Europe. Alex Easton, Roderick Usher’s former commanding officer in some recent war (the Gallacian Army they served in having a habit of getting into these quite habitually) receives a letter from Roderick’s sister Madeline begging company and help, as she is deathly ill. Of course by the time Easton arrives the pair of them look like they’re one stiff wind away from dying, and the estate and the lands around it are both decaying and full of unnerving strangeness. The only person who seems happy to be there is Eugenia Potter, an Englishwoman and amateur mycologist studying the great variety of mushrooms and fungus to be found in the area.

So yes this is very much aiming to be Gothic Classic, at least in aesthetics and trappings. An overgrown and decaying estate several times too large for the last remnants of the family who now occupy it. Genteel madness and disease, hidden behind polite euphemisms and high walls. A deep, atavistic horror at parasitism and the desecration of the human (especially the well-bred, young and female) body by an alien presence. There’s even a cowboy for some reason. It definitely all works for me, but then my exposure to the genre is all a bit second hand.

Speaking of parasitism – mushrooms! The book expresses decay and desecration basically entirely through the idiom of fungal infections, both in terms of metaphor and imagery in descriptions and just in the actual source of the horror here. The lights in the tarn are fungal blooms, Madeline’s disease and her reanimation are both the result of almost drowning and inhaling that fungus into her lungs, and so on. There are two really effective horror beats in the book for me – the image of an infected hare which had just had its head shot off slowly jerking back to its feet as a dozen others placidly stood there and watched it be shot, and the moment of realization that Madeline’s oddly long and wispy body hair is in fact mycelia growing out of her skin – and both play off of this pretty directly.

I very awkwardly didn’t use any pronouns for Easton when giving the plot synopsis because the book actually plays around a bit with gender and pronouns in a way I’ve always loved and wish I saw more of. Easton is Gallacian (unrelated to the actually existing Galicia, I think), and the Gallacian language has a variety of pronoun sets beyond just he and she – one for children, one for God, and one (ka/kan) particularly for soldiers. Which, due to the exigencies of early modern warefare’s manpower requirements, eventually led to both men and women being perfectly eligible to become ‘sworn soldiers’. So y’know, Enlist today! Service guarantees citizen-transition!

(But actually I enjoy the thought and at least superficial sociological plausibility/consideration of what gender means in Gallacian society a lot more than how a lot of modern spec fic just kind of assues that every culture in the world has the perspective on gender of a well-educated 21st century progressive, material conditions be damned).

Anyway yeah, overall very entertaining read. Though Goodreads tells me it’s now the first in the series, which given how cleanly this one ended is not something that fills me with an abundance of faith.

[keithbutgay]

vat7k headcanons?

oh my gosh my time has come (you will probably regret this)

so first off imma reference my like three other posts i've made on the topic because i'm a nerd

starting with lgbt+ headcanons-

hugo is genderfluid and likes men i don't make the rules (he/she/they)

i am very much a trans varian truther. in my mind they use he/they pronouns and is also very biromantic

transing nuru's gender too- i love transfemme nuru (she/her) and also she's a lesbian definitely

yong gets the aroace nonbinary treatment

okay moving on to headcanons about languages-

its canon that varian speaks like three languages but i headcanon that he is fluent in coronan, saporian, and is learning the dark kingdom's language

hugo definitely knows so many languages because he gets around. i like to think he's fluent in ingvarran, coronan and bayangoran

i love the idea that yong is still learning coronan and that hugo sometimes has to translate for him or they repeat things for him sometimes because varian talks too fast or they use an unfamiliar word or like accents trip him up

on a seperate note in my mind coronan is german, bayangoran is mandarin, ingvarran is farsi (based on this post)

one of my favorite possible vat7k storylines is when hugo finds out about varian's past and i love the idea that he found out because of a wanted poster they found- perfect angst potential. on that note, i also believe that the rest of them would have heard about varian (the alchemist) when he was still wanted for example

hugo would have been told about him from donella, whether he was always told to be better and be like varian, or that he admired varian and thought he was really cool and dreamed of working with him

nuru had heard about him through horror stories about the kidnapping and attempted murder of the royal family. she most likely would have been scared of varian when she found out, not trusting him not to hurt her

i honestly think yong wouldn't understand. i don't think his parents would have told him if they even knew, and he would have been like seven at the time, so

hugo was varian's bi awakening except not really. he had liked guys before that but hadn't realized that was what he was feeling

they definitely met cass while on their adventures and she definitely had a girlfriend

ruddiger and prometheus hate each other

hugo is extremely jealous of ruddiger as well. ah yes him, his boyfriend, and his boyfriend's raccoon that's taking up all his attention

firmly believing in hugo showing up one day with period products because he might be a loser but he's not a jerk and nuru not knowing how to tell him she's trans while varian (also not out) comes up and just takes the pads being like 'thanks i needed these'

varigo-

t4t obviously

also they're both neurodivergent i dont make the rules

they hate each other but like not

like in the sense that, if they were asked if they liked each other, they would be like ew gross no i hate this man

and then at the end of the conversation varian kisses hugo on the cheek and is just like see you at home babe and everyone is like w h a t

they argue nonstop, to the point of being violent, and then someone changes the subject and hugo's in varian's lap

obsessed with that one au where they were in prison together

also obsessed with hugo dropping the piano on eugene's head

this entire post

might add to this later but here you go have fun!

[episims]

Hugo "Well, it was nice-"

Talia "It's not even late! Wanna watch stars for a while?"

Hugo "...Okay!"

Hugo "-I, uh, you caught me. I'm just trying to be cool, you know? But I don't know anything about stars."

Talia "Who wants to be cool, anyway? I think you're cute."

Hugo "Oh. Oh. I think you're, um, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Talia *giggles* "Thanks! I bet I'm turning blue from the cold, though. Do you mind if I warm up by you?"

Hugo "N-not at all!"

Hugo She's holding my hand! "...Is this better?"

Talia "It's warmer. But this bench is kinda hard, too."

Hugo "You could sit on my lap? I-if you want?"

Hugo Does it make me a jerk if I put my hand here??

Talia "You know... there's something I really want to try before I move away."

Hugo "Um. There is...?"

[mycroftrh]

Fun trivia time!

Select your answer, then look under the cut to see :)

It was Commissioner Gordon! This is the very first panel of the very first Batman comic, Detective Comics #27, in May 1939. While it does name Bruce (and "Bat-Man"), Gordon's name appears first. And yes, Bruce has been jerking poor Gordon around with his secret identity nonsense since his very first panel.

Alfred Pennyworth first appeared in Batman #16, in 1944. Interestingly, evidence suggests he was not actually originally created for comics, but for a weird film serial that had Batman and Robin as spies in WWII. Though the relevant episode of the serial came out slightly after Batman #16, the understanding is that his appearance in the film serial was already planned, and he was hastily shoved into the comics before the serial's release. He was originally portly and clean-shaven, but the actor in the serial was thin and had a pencil mustache, so in Detective Comics #83 Alfred went to a "health resort", lost weight, and grew a mustache, which is the look he's maintained ever since. Comics have been adapting to adaptations since the very beginning! The serial was also the first appearance of the Batcave.

Selina Kyle, as "the Cat", appeared in Batman #1, in April 1940.

Joe Chill technically first appeared in Detective Comics #33, in November 1939, but was at the time just a nameless mugger; he was first named in 1948.

Leslie Thompkins was a much later addition, first appearing in Detective Comics #457 in 1976.

Hugo Strange was Batman's first supervillain who still exists, first appearing in Detective Comics #36, in February 1940, then appearing again a couple months later in Batman #1 (alongside Selina, and also Joker, who wasn't in this poll).

[bratuntitled]

now playing: wicked smart

this track: 2. roll credits!

content warnings: light nomin! actual cw for classist bullshit, yn threatening violence lmfao, discussion of ayn rand ryan's notes: was too sick to go to classes today so you guys are being blessed w a double update <3 look out for the SUUUPER long (and probably cringe asf) written portion under the tweets lol... ignore timestamps as always, formatting is actually ass for this post i am So sorry!! but hopefully its enjoyable nonetheless :)

yn's friends always said that yn could spot a jerk from a mile away. it was a talent that they'd honed for years in the city's public school system, where getting bullied for living in the city's run-down areas was commonplace for both yn and jeno. yn was pretty good at brushing off nasty comments, and often openly acknowledged the fact that they've lived their whole life as little more than a gutter rat. when it came to jeno, however, it was different. kind, reliable jeno, who picked yn up each night to carpool to work while they worked at the same shitty bar. jeno, whose eyes crinkled into half-moons at yn's antics ever since they first met in kindergarten; whose shoulders - made strong by a couple years working in construction prior to becoming a bouncer - always slumped when his social efforts were shot down by some high-and-mighty prick.

that was why yn watched the conversation between jeno and the pretty guy he'd been making goo-goo eyes at with a slight smile tugging at their lips. it was also why yn's mood shifted into bone-deep annoyance once they heard some snide, nasally voice cut through the warm murmur of jeno and his new friend's conversation.

"hold this, and don't drink it," yn mutters, shoving their half-finished gin and tonic into hendery's hands. yn ignores yangyang's laugh as they push through the press of bodies gathered around the bar, choosing instead to focus in on whatever's going down between jeno, pretty guy, and the snob who's interrupting their moment.

"you don't exactly strike me as the literary type, uh..." the interlocutor trails off, waiting for jeno to supply his name.

"my name's jeno," jeno replies, his tone clipped. "and i'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, dude."

"chris..." the pretty guy sighs, clearly familiar with this man's antics, but this chris fellow continues anyways.

"no, i didn't think you would, jeno," chris replies, the words dripping with barely-concealed disdain. "that's a shame. i was hoping we could have a productive discussion on ayn rand's literary influences, especially since this is, y'know, a bar for college students."

yn can feel their facial expression pinch with irritation, but they're too thoroughly pissed off to care about what impression they're giving off. not when there's some asshole trying to make their best friend look like an idiot.

"rand, huh?" yn cuts in, setting a hand firmly on jeno's shoulder. "the moron who wrote atlas shrugged?" seeing chris nod, albeit warily at this newcomer to the conversation, yn continues.

"alright. she liked the moral core of works by of dostoyevsky, schiller, and hugo and tried to replicate it in her own writing. but, because she went around ripping the style of anyone she thought would make the best 'gotcha' towards the soviet union, her body of work consists entirely of shit that's more fit for use as toilet paper than it is as the focus of any sort of rigorous academic discussion."

chris fumbles over his words for a moment. "that's - ayn rand wrote some of the most intellectually challenging fiction of her time!" he protests, only to be cut off once again.

"... and now you're ripping john david lewis to defend her! like author, like fanboy, i guess," yn interrupts, pausing for a moment before leaning in slightly. "now, do you have anything original to contribute here, or are you gonna keep plagiarizing the idiots that came before you to try to make my friend look dumb? 'cause if it's the latter, y'know, i wouldn't mind taking this conversation outside."

chris blanches at the idea of a fight, and yn looks on with undisguised satisfaction once he finally fucks off. jeno's shoulders sag with relief as he watches chris' retreating form.

"thanks," jeno says, turning to look between yn and the cute guy. "jaemin, this is yn. yn, jaemin." jaemin looks like he's about to greet yn when a wobbly hendery drapes his arm around yn's shoulders, with yangyang giggling right behind him. he hiccups, sets the now-empty glass down on the bar counter, and leans his weight against yn.

"my buddy's wicked smart!" hendery chimes in, his words a bit slurred from drinking. "now, big brain, where's the bathroom? i gotta go piss."

yn shoots jaemin and jeno an apologetic look before focusing on scolding hendery for finishing their drink. yangyang, looking like he's having the time of his life, drags hendery towards the men's room, with yn still supporting him as he walks. they're too caught up with being the responsible adult to notice mark staring at them with open admiration as they walk by.

bonus!!!

jeno got jaemin's number right after that <3

the night's not quite over yet though....

anyways here are the drink orders!! hendery and yangyang got green tea shots (managed to order 4 rounds before the bartender got annoyed. rip bozos), yn got a gin and tonic obvi, jaemin and hyuck split a cheeky marg, jisung got a vodka redbull, mark got a beer.

jeno did not drink because he's a good designated driver; mark and co. all drank because they all live basically within walking distance of this bar :)

taglist (reply/ask to join!!): @iluv7tn

[cliozaur]

Hauteville House: Part 5 – Routine and Intimacy

While on Guernsey, Hugo followed a strict work routine that enabled him to write more than he ever had in Paris. He woke up early (around 6 a.m.), ate three eggs, drank cold coffee, and then worked until eleven. After his morning writing session, he would strip naked in his glass cage, which was quite visible from the street, and sponged himself down with cold water. Following lunch, he walked for two hours before working again until 6 p.m. In the evenings, he had dinner with Juliette Drouet (except when his wife was visiting), and then he played cards.

 Amazing Juliette Drouet, an actress who left her career to become his lover in 1833, was the one who secretly smuggled Hugo out of France and followed him to the Channel Islands. On Guernsey, she lived just a couple of houses down the street and could see Hugo in the mornings as he went about his daily routine. Living so close, they exchanged letters filled with affection. “Good morning, my dear little leap-out-of-bed. You seem in fine fettle this morning, judging by the energy with which you do your physical jerks… I was up before the cannon signal this morning and had already attended to my toilette when I spied you on your balcony.”  (30 October 1863)

And when in 1864 she moved to another house, still closer, she wrote: “I do not want to leave this poor little house—where we have loved for eight years—without kissing the threshold with gratitude… I would like to take away the walls against which you have leant, the floor on which you have walked, right to the dust that you have scorned…” (15 June 1864)

Hugo responded with equally passionate letters. It all seems lovely and sweet, however, he was never a faithful lover. While visiting the house, I asked a guide about the servants without a second thought. She explained that there were almost no servants living there; local people came during the day to cook and clean, and only a maidservant lived upstairs.

“Upstairs” was where Hugo's living space was. Maidservants regularly ended up in his bed. He documented his romantic escapades in his diary, writing about them in French, Latin, and Spanish. “16 November: She will come to my house, provisionally, from Monday 20. She will sleep at the top of the house. 23 November: E. G. Shoulders and knees. 24 November: E. G. This morning, all.”

Not a dream job, for sure. Hugo was a terrible and harassing employer.

[fallingblueroses]

Kurt wants to make another video, but isn't expecting VoicePlay's new allies.

***

Cesar's body ached like it did when he'd slept in a weird position as he woke up. His eyes were closed as he went to stretch, but flew open immediately when he realized he couldn't move.

His head spun as he looked around. He was tied to a chair by his wrists and ankles. A rope wrapped around his chest several times. He couldn't see behind him, but he could see the yellowish light coming from lamps that had to be back there. The room in front of him was empty except for five cameras set in a semi-circle. He stared at the cameras in wide-eyed panic. He was being watched like this? By who? Why?

A groan to his left told him he wasn't alone. He looked over to see Layne, who was tied to a chair like Cesar was. "Layne?"

Layne lifted his head, then froze. His eyes were wide with terror as they darted back and forth. "No. No..." He began to struggle against his bonds. "No. Not again. Oh God, no."

"Layne?!" What did he mean, "not again?" "Layne!"

"Cesar?" Layne looked over, his face milky white. His eyes widened as he looked past Cesar.

Cesar looked to his right and saw Eli, still unconscious and bound like they were. Beyond Eli was Geoff, also unconscious and bound. He turned back to Layne. "What's going on?"

Layne didn't answer him directly. "Kurt! Come out, you son of a bitch!"

"Kurt? Who's Kurt?"

"Get out here! Show yourself!" Layne stopped screaming and hung his head. Cesar heard him start to sob, and the sound only made Cesar's fear worse.

"What's all the screaming for?" Eli asked groggily. Cesar looked over in time to see Eli lift his head and then jerk hard in realization. His eyes met Cesar's. "Cesar...what..."

"I don't know." He remembered rehearsing for their new video at PattyCake Productions and smelling something strange. He remembered Geoff joking that something must have crawled into the air ducts and died, but nothing else.

"Layne!" Eli's sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "Layne! Listen to me! We have to keep calm!" Layne moaned as Eli kept talking. "Layne. Layne, look at me." Layne raised his head and looked at Eli with wet, streaming eyes. "There you go. Pull yourself together. Deep breaths."

Layne looked past Eli. "Why isn't Geoff waking up?"

"I don't know," Eli said. "But he will. Just stay calm."

Cesar turned to look at Eli. "Who's Kurt?"

Eli's eyes narrowed. "He's behind this?"

"I...I don't know. I haven't seen anyone else. But Layne mentioned him. Who is he?"

"Kurt Hugo Schneider." Eli's voice was grim. "...This does look like the same setup as last time."

Cesar knew who that was, for more reasons than one. He remembered Tony's very serious face as he'd talked to Cesar shortly after he'd joined VoicePlay. "There's three things you never, never, ever talk about. One, don't ask them where their scars came from. Two, don't mention Twenty One Pilots. Yes, the band. Three, never mention Kurt Hugo Schneider or the videos they made with him. Ever. Why doesn't matter. Just don't."

He glanced over at Geoff, and the way Geoff's head was hanging let him see the scar on his neck: vertical, straight, about an inch and a half long. Layne had a nearly identical one on his neck, but Eli's was on the back of his head. Of course Cesar had been curious but the seriousness of Tony's face and voice that day kept him from asking...until now. "What happened with him?"

Eli sighed. "You know those collaborations we did with him?"

"Yes...?"

Eli looked at him. "We were forced to make those videos."

Cesar's eyes widened in shock. "Forced? How? Why?"

"Kurt kidnapped us," Layne said in a despairing tone. Cesar turned to look at him, and his slumped body showed his defeat. "He put electrical plugs into us...hooked us up to machines..."

"He turned us into puppets," Eli said.

"Wait." Cesar looked between them. "Wait. That video...the mashup..."

"Real," Layne said. "Every bit."

Horror and guilt crept over Cesar. Like everyone else who had seen the Twenty One Pilots mashup video, he'd thought it was just a clever story idea. He'd had no idea he'd been watching..."Oh God, you guys. I'm sorry. I never realized..."

"No one did," Eli said.

"How did you get away?"

"Tony figured out where we were and rescued us," Layne said.

"Which he won't be doing again," a new voice said. All three men looked up as Kurt himself came through the door and closed it behind him. "I've seen to that."

"What did you do to Tony?" Eli demanded.

Kurt only smiled at that question.

***

Geoff gasped and blinked awake as cold water hit him in the face. When his eyes focused he saw he was lying on the floor in his living room. His own voice came to his ears. "He's awake."

"Finally," a woman's voice said.

Geoff pushed himself up on his elbows. Jeff, Goff, Jeoph, Daryl, and Frieda were surrounding him. Daryl held an empty glass, and they all looked agitated. Jeoph smiled sheepishly and waved. "Hi, Host."

Geoff sighed as he sat up. "All right. How did you guys get out this time?"

"We didn't," Jeff said. "You're in our house."

"What?" Geoff got to his feet and looked around. It looked exactly like his house. "How did I get here?"

"You were knocked out," Jeff said. "You're locked in here with us."

"And something weird's going on," Frieda said as she pushed her hair out of her face. "I think we're in trouble."

"The Command Center's out," Goff said.

Geoff blinked. "Command Center?"

"This way," Jeff said. They moved in a group to where Geoff's studio would have been. The monitor screens were blue with a bit of red text in the center, and when Geoff leaned down to read them he saw they both said the same thing: "SYSTEM OVERLOAD".

"What the hell is this?" Geoff asked.

"Like Jeff said, the Command Center," Frieda said. She kept pushing her loose hair out of her face, and Geoff had the sudden irritated urge to pin it back for her. "It's where we watch while you interact with the outside world. The system went down and you appeared in the living room."

Geoff decided to go with it. He'd ask questions later. "Who was watching when it went down?"

Jeoph raised his hand. "I was."

"So what happened?"

Jeoph frowned. "I...I think someone put knockout gas in PattyCake's vents."

Geoff blinked. "What?"

"You noticed a strange smell," Jeoph said. "Then the system went out."

"Which means you're unconscious," Jeff said. "We need to reboot the systems to wake you up. And we need you to let us out."

Geoff's eyes went wide. "Let you out? Why?"

"Because if you're in trouble, we can help," Frieda said.

"You can wake up and let us know what we're dealing with," Goff said.

"And then we can kick some ass," Daryl chimed in.

"But I'll pass out again, like I did the last time." Geoff frowned. "Won't I?"

"If you do, we'll protect you," Jeff said. "We should be able to take a lot of damage as long as you're all right."

"Oh good," Geoff said sarcastically. "And besides, how do I let you all out? The last time you got out was an accident."

"You should have the key," Jeff said.

"Key?"

Jeff pointed towards the living room. "To the door."

Geoff sighed and reached into his hip pockets. His eyes widened in surprise as the tips of his left fingers brushed metal, and he drew a long, silvery, old-fashioned key out of his pocket. "Well...I'll be damned."

Frieda took the key from him. "All right. Now reboot the system."

Geoff sighed. "All right. I assume I just restart the computer." He sat down at his console, then ducked under the desk and turned the power strip off and on again. The screens went dark, and he pressed the computer's power button.

***

Host vanished as the system rebooted. Jeff sat down at the console as it came online, and they all watched the monitors as Host woke up and began to look around.

"Well, Geoff. Glad you could join us." Host looked toward the sound, and all five clones snarled as they saw Kurt Hugo Schneider.

"Him again," Goff growled. Of course they remembered what Kurt had done to Host and the others. Host looked around, and they saw Eli, Cesar, and Layne were captive too. All of them were tied to chairs, and Layne looked like he was mid-panic attack, but they otherwise seemed unharmed.

"I don't see Tony," Jeoph said. "Wasn't he at PattyCake too?"

Jeff frowned deeply. "Schneider must have hidden him somewhere."

"Bastard," Frieda seethed. "Come on. Let's go." She began to head for the front door, key in hand.

"Wait," Jeff said, making her stop and turn to look at him. "We need to take him by surprise."

"How do we do that?" Jeoph asked.

"First, we have to wait until his attention is off of Host."

"That could take a while," Frieda said.

"And things might go to hell first," Daryl reminded them.

Jeff nodded. "For once you're right. Frieda, unlock the door, but don't open it yet. Be ready."

"Right." Frieda went to the door and unlocked it. She kept one hand on the doorknob and anxiously watched her brothers as they watched the monitors.

***

"What did you do with Tony?!" Eli demanded again.

Kurt smiled as he approached them. "He's not your problem anymore."

"What do you want?" Cesar asked.

"You can't guess? To make more videos."

Cesar stared incredulously. "What? That's all? You couldn't have thought to, I don't know, just ask us?"

"Well, that's not exactly all." Kurt walked over to Layne and leaned down in his face, making him draw back. "Tony stole all my research. I had to start over from square one, but I learned from that little incident. I improved my devices. You're not breaking free this time."

Cesar shook his head. "You think people aren't going to notice when we go missing and videos start popping up?"

Kurt looked at him, amused. "Did they notice last time?"

"They weren't reported missing last time," Cesar said. He realized how strange that was as the words left his mouth. Why hadn't...

"Yes, we were," Layne said. "Cyndi went to the police. So did Kathy and Ashley and Nick."

Cesar frowned. "But...then why..."

"Kurt got to the police first," Eli said as Kurt smirked smugly at them. "He told them that we were planning on going missing as a publicity stunt. So when our spouses went to report us missing, they were told to stop wasting police time. The cops actually threatened to arrest them for making false reports."

"And that's what the police will do this time," Kurt said. "I've made sure of it." He looked over at Geoff as the bass singer groaned. "Well, Geoff. Glad you could join us." Geoff jolted hard, and Kurt smiled. "I was just explaining to our friends here about how I've upgraded my devices. They're wireless now. I can turn you guys off and on with a push of a button. They also accept a wider range of signals. I can make you guys do anything I want. Or, anything your fans want." He walked over to Geoff and smiled down at him. "I'm sure you know what your fans will ask for."

Cesar jumped in surprise when Geoff spat in Kurt's face. Kurt stared in shock for a second, then punched Geoff in the mouth.

"Stop!" Layne cried. Geoff lifted his head, and Cesar saw blood drip from his lips.

Kurt leaned in. "Just for that--"

His words were cut off when hands grabbed him by the throat. At first Cesar thought that Geoff had gotten his hands free--but then he realized that Geoff's hands were still tied to the armrests. Geoff's eyes were wide in shock as Kurt grabbed the arms attacking him and stepped back. Geoff split into two people, and the attacker hit the ground with a thud as his hands came loose from Kurt's throat--No, Cesar realized as he saw the long hair and curved body. Not his hands. Her hands. It was Frieda.

Kurt kicked Frieda in the stomach as she tried to get to her feet. "What the hell are you!"

Frieda's back was to Cesar but he heard the snarl in her voice. "I'm Frieda Castellucci." She got to her knees. "And if you want Host and his friends, you'll have to go through me."

Kurt kicked her in the chest and sent her back to the floor. "I think I can handle that."

Four voices answered. "Can you handle us?"

Kurt looked up just in time to see the rest of the clones rushing him. Goff and Daryl grabbed Kurt's arms, and Jeff planted his fist in Kurt's gut. "You shouldn't have hit our Host." He hit Kurt in the chin with an uppercut. "And you definitely shouldn't have kicked our sister."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "She might be an annoying bitch, but she's our annoying bitch."

Frieda looked up. "I feel so loved."

Jeoph reached down and helped Frieda to her feet. "Are you all right?"

"I will be," she said, but held her stomach. "Let's get these guys untied."

Jeoph nodded and began to untie Geoff. Eli looked at Frieda as she worked on his ropes. "He did something to Tony."

Frieda turned and looked at Kurt. "Where's Tony?"

Kurt sneered. "I'm not telling you anything, you ugly bitch."

Frieda raised an eyebrow. "Really." When Kurt didn't answer, she made a beckoning motion. "Daryl, come with me."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, but handed Kurt's arm to Jeff before following Frieda. It was a bit unsettling to watch them slip into Geoff. There was a bit of silence as Jeoph finished untying Geoff, and then Daryl popped out with a saw in his hands and an excited look on his face. "Frieda said I could play with tools!"

Jeff, Goff, and Jeoph got identical looks of alarm on their faces. "Oh, no."

Frieda stepped away from Geoff. She held a cordless drill up for them all to see. "I said you could play if our friend Kurt there doesn't talk."

"Oh please don't talk right away," Daryl said with a sadistic grin. Frieda pressed the drill's trigger a couple of times, and Cesar couldn't help but jump at the sound. He wasn't sure if they were serious or putting on an act.

Frieda pulled Geoff away from the chair, then pointed to it. "Jeff. Goff. Tie him up." The two clones holding Kurt obeyed, their faces suddenly as serious as Frieda's, while Jeoph and Geoff began to untie Eli and Cesar. Once Kurt was secure Goff moved to untie Layne.

Kurt looked at Frieda, and Cesar heard the fear in his voice. "You can't do anything to me."

Frieda smiled easily. "We can't? Why? You'll tell the police? I don't think so. We can disappear back inside of Host. And if you try to blame Host himself...well..."

Jeff picked up as Frieda's voice trailed off. "Host might get into a little bit of trouble. But you'd be in for a world of hurt."

Goff went on. "There's no statute of limitations for kidnapping in Florida. So you'd finally go down for last time, on top of this one."

Jeoph smiled at Kurt. "Not to mention the civil lawsuits Host and his friends could bring against you."

Daryl approached Kurt. "So save yourself some pain and tell us where Tony is." He held Kurt's hand on the armrest while he put the saw blade to Kurt's wrist. "Or don't. I won't mind."

The next few seconds seemed to stretch out. Layne's breath was coming in harsh gasps, and Eli and Geoff were giving the clones wary looks. Cesar's stomach was twisting unpleasantly. He felt like he should say something, anything--

"Oh well," Daryl said calmly. "We tried."

Cesar saw Daryl's arm move, and he turned away and covered his face with his hands as Kurt screamed. "He's still at the studio!" Layne pulled Cesar into a hug as Kurt went on. "I tied him up and left him in the basement. In that room with all the pipes and the breaker box."

"Aw, phoo," Daryl grumbled. Cesar dared to look, but there was no blood and Kurt's hand still looked to be attached. He couldn't help but feel relieved at that.

Jeff looked over at VoicePlay. "Any of you have your phone?" A quick check of pockets turned up nothing, and Jeff patted Kurt down before pulling a phone out of his pants pocket and tossing it to Geoff. "Call Kath to go let Tony out."

"And the cops," Jeoph said.

Kurt glared at the clones. "I'll tell them about you."

"Sure," Daryl said mockingly. "Go ahead. Tell the cops you saw Host split into sextuplets. We'll be long gone by then."

"But don't worry," Frieda said. "We'll be watching the trial."

Jeff grinned at Kurt as Geoff made the phone call. "I hope you have a good lawyer. You'll need one.

***

Geoff's clones were all safely back home and VoicePlay had their story about how Geoff had wrestled free from his bonds and attacked Kurt by the time the police arrived. Fortunately Kurt's cameras hadn't been turned on yet, so there was no evidence otherwise. Kurt glared at VoicePlay as the officers cuffed him, but the only thing he said as he was led off was that he wanted a lawyer.

They were all taken down to the police station to give their statements. Kathy and Tony came to pick them up, and it turned out that Kurt hadn't been as smart as he'd thought he was. He hadn't accounted for PattyCake's security cameras, and although there was no footage of what had happened inside the outside cameras had caught Kurt dragging VoicePlay one by one to the U-haul he'd used to take them to the warehouse. Tony was more than happy to hand the video over to the police.

Once they were done at the police station and in the van heading back to Orlando they told Tony and Kathy the real story. Kathy glanced over at Geoff as she drove. "So...they can come and go as they want now?"

"I gave them the door key," Geoff said from the passenger seat as he rubbed his temples. "Hopefully they'll use it responsibly."

Cesar sat in the backseat next to Eli. "We'll have to throw them a thank-you party."

Geoff appeared to be listening, then sighed. "...Daryl wants paper hats and noisemakers. Frieda wants yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting."

"They got it. I'll even put sprinkles on them."

Eli looked over at Cesar. "You know how to make cupcakes?"

"I'll use a box mix. How hard can it be?"

Tony was sitting behind Kathy. "...So, Geoff, they can talk to you now?"

"Yeah," Geoff said. "Right now they're hyper from all the excitement. If it's like last time they'll calm down in a few days and my headache will go away."

"I wonder if I have clones in my head," Cesar asked.

"Be grateful you don't. It's weird having six different memories for the same thing." Geoff sighed.

"Just remember to use the right one when we go to testify against Kurt," Eli said. "Speaking of which, we'll have to let Earl know the cops might want to talk to him."

Tony glanced over at Layne, who was looking out the window. "You're awfully quiet. You OK?"

"Hmm?" Layne looked over. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"What would be happening right now if Geoff's clones hadn't been able to help us."

They all fell silent at that. After a few seconds Tony put a hand on Layne's arm. "Nothing like that is going to happen again."

Layne nodded slowly. "I know." He looked out the window again. The conversation died as they all became lost in their thoughts and processed what had happened.

***

The next morning Geoff woke up to the smell of cooking food and the sound of voices in his kitchen. He glanced over to where Kathy still slept and sighed. He had a feeling he knew exactly who was in his kitchen.

When he went downstairs he saw he was right. Frieda was scrambling eggs while Goff stood at the counter cutting fruit. Daryl was buttering a large stack of toast and Jeoph was setting the table for eight as Jeff carried in an extra chair.

Daryl saw him first. "Hi, Host! Breakfast for eight coming up!"

"Don't worry," Frieda said. Geoff saw she was wearing the key on a chain around her neck. "We brought the food."

Geoff wasn't even going to ask how that worked. "Uh...thanks. It's appreciated, but please clean up after."

"Don't worry," Jeoph said. "We will."

Geoff stepped to the table and poured himself some orange juice. "Guys, if you're going to be coming and going like this, we need some ground rules."

"Like what?" Jeff asked.

"First, I know where you guys are at all times. No sneaking off. Second, no popping out in public. Or in front of anyone not in VoicePlay, unless there's an emergency. Third, no pretending to be me. And other rules will pop up as they're needed." He took a drink of juice. "Any questions?"

"Can I have another spa day?" Jeff asked.

"Can I be in a music video?" Frieda asked.

"Can we do something about where the pull-up bar is?" Goff asked.

"Can I arrange 'Particle Man'?" Jeoph cut in.

"Can I start an Only Fans?" Daryl asked.

Geoff stared at them as the other four turned on Daryl. "No!"

Daryl drew himself up. "Why is it okay for her to be in a video but I can't have an Only Fans?"

"She's not going to be taking her clothes off in a music video," Jeff snapped.

"She would if Layne asked her to."

Frieda glared at Daryl. "Leave Layne out of this."

Goff looked at Jeoph. "Why 'Particle Man'?"

Jeoph shrugged. "I like the song."

Daryl looked over at them. "It's a stupid song."

"Then it should suit you just fine," Goff said.

Frieda gasped. "The eggs!" She quickly stirred them. "Oh, they're lumpy!"

"I told you to use a double boiler," Jeff sighed.

Geoff watched for a few more seconds as his clones argued and prepared the breakfast, then slowly went upstairs to wake up Kathy and William. He had the feeling it was going to be a long morning.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side A

Propaganda below ⬇️

Claude Frollo Propaganda:

This man got horny and his response was “that woman must burn”

I love him so much. More seriously Book Frollo is much more ambivalent than Disney Movie Frollo which makes sense because we're talking about Victor Hugo VS a children's movie. He didn't kill Quasimodo's mom, he took him in (when himself was only nineteen and already in charge of his own baby brother since their parents had died not long before) when he was left on the church's doorstep. I mean, he does quite a few reprehensible and slightly evil stuff afterwards but he had a good start, you know ? He taught Quasi to communicate by signs when he became deaf because of the bells. He was also very much into alchemy which was pretty cool. His behavior towards Esmeralda was still very much not okay but I'd like to point out that Phoebus is also a jerk in this one. And Quasi's quite a bit amoral because no intelligent enough to understand some stuff

I actually haven't gotten very far through the book yet but from the musical (not the disney one the other one it's SO GOOD) I can confirm he sucks at being catholic. literally tells a child over and over that he's ugly and unlovable until he fully believes it and won't let the kid go outside. https://genius.com/Alan-menken-out-there-lyrics (lyrics to the song in which frollo convinces quasimodo he's unlovable. ableist as hell and shitty in every way you can possibly imagine and it breaks my heart every time. feel free to listen to the actual track but it doesn’t get good until about 40 seconds in) frollo keeps saying it's good and right to punish sinners himself, and it's not right that the wicked go unpunished. there's a really satisfying moment in the musical where quasimodo sees him for what he is and repeats his words back to him (7:45 - 8:54, frollo is the one with the insanely deep voice) and it gives me goosebumps every time to hear that "yes you do" link to that video: https://youtu.be/HL7WZcTIgus

I honestly wrote this submission because I suffered from severe insomnia for being reminded that I might have poor taste when it comes to enjoying media since I enjoy Disney version of Frollo even after I watched other versions of this character. (I am so sorry the host yes I am that annoying anon lying in the dark little corner of your ask box. I have no other thing to do in my life so hello again) His character is different from the original novel version, and to be honest as an adoption, that is NOT necessarily WRONG. He had more struggles with his pride and his self-imagine in the Catholic framework. "Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man, of my virtue I am justly proud" as the opening line of his villain song, clearly states his main struggle throughout the movie--pride and self-imagine (super-ego) vs lust and instinct (id). Once his self-imagine in the Catholic framework was on shaking ground, he bent his twisted sense of "righteous" to make him less painful. Tbh, the novel version used the example of Bruno d’Ast to justify his hornyness, so it's just classical Frollo behaviour no matter which version it is. (SMASH THE TABLE) HAVE YOU READ~~THE NOVEL~~ I REPEAT: HIS CHARACTER IS NOT JUST "I HATE WITCHCRAFT AND I AM HORNY AND RACIST". I REPEAT: HIS CHARACTER IS NOT JUST "I HATE WITCHCRAFT AND I AM HORNY AND RACIST". I REPEAT: HIS CHARACTER IS NOT JUST "I HATE WITCHCRAFT AND I AM HORNY AND RACIST". I am sorry for the noise pollution in your submission Google form. I should have taken my sedatives regularly. I am truly sorry. Also please don't bully me in the debate, novel/musical enjoyers. LOOK, I AIN'T YOUR ENEMY. I LOVE NOVEL/MUSICAL FROLLO, I JUST LOVE DISNEY VERSION AS WELL, I AM AS TORMENTED AS YOUR FAVORITE CATHOLIC PRIEST. I am not a native tongue, so I tried my best to express my thoughts/feelings/justification why Disney version should be a qualified candidate as well. If you tried to debate with me, I would be drowned in my poor English. Sorry again.

Javert Propaganda:

His whole deal is like, “can someone still be good even if they’ve broken the law? Can you still be godly if you’re a felon” He really believes that by upholding the law, he is absolutely in the moral right all the time. And when he realizes that’s not true, it absolutely destroys him

he is the law and the law is not mocked <3 he is also. so gay. i'm sorry i refuse to believe you're even a little heterosexual if you chase jean valjean for like over 20 years for breaking parole and/or bread theft and recognise him by his muscles and have a major moral crisis as soon as he's nice to you one (1) time also he gets called out by a child that one time?? that was fun ALSO HE UHH???? THINKS HE SCREWED UP ONE TIME AND LIKE. ASKS HIS BOSS TO FIRE HIM???? (the boss is valjean he doesn't know that yet dw abt it) also uh uhm. he jumps into a river,,,, but before he does that he feels the need to put his hat on the fence nearby so it doesn't get wet lmao he's so silly goofy <3333