#i had to compensate for the awful shape of his head in the other one

[n4rval]

i lied. here's a bonus.

[barnesbabee]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ- ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ᴇɪɢʜᴛ-  ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST:

White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

“The stars sure look beautiful today.”

From that night on you and Seonghwa continuously exchanged shy glances, and even the simplest touch would make you blush, as you both reminisced what had happened that night. You anxiously waited for the day you would finally belong to each other, and as the night approached, the both of you started feeling butterflies all over your body.

You had decided the wedding would be small. Not because you weren't extravagant, but because none of you had friends, so it wouldn't make sense to throw a big party. Although the King, without your knowledge, had ordered the most beautiful wedding dress, and he couldn't wait for you to see it.

One day, you decided to take a peek at the ballroom, where the wedding would be taking place. You could see he tried to minimize the red and black, but it was stronger than him. It did look beautiful though... The gold chandelier lit up the sparkly room, decorated with rose petals cut in the shape of a heart, and several portraits of you and the King beside each other. You wondered when those had been painted, but you were honoured. Your heart was clenching in adoration as you noticed the contrast between the portraits all around the castle compared to those. Every painting of the King you had seen so far was of him with a stone-cold expression, but in all of these you were both smiling, laughing, or looking at each other lovingly. The King make sure to capture his favourite moments in all of these paintings, from the day you met, to the picnic in the garden.

"Thank you, Miss."

You were startled to hear a voice behind you while you peeked through the barely opened door. You jumped slightly and turned around, but calmed down once you saw it was one of the maids. She was looking at you with her big, sparkly frog eyes. At some point, it freaked you out, but after seeing them every day you got used to the frog people.

"You're welcome ma'am, but what might you be thanking me for?" You asked, quite confused.

"You've made our lives infinitely better with your presence. Our King has really changed... He said 'thank you' the other day. I have worked for him for a decade and not once had I heard those words from him. He treats us like people, not like servants. You are a blessing, Miss."

You smiled at the maid, a sad yet sympathetic smile.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I beg of you, give him another chance. Seonghwa is but a neglected, traumatized child in an adult man's body, and I'm trying to help him become a better person."

"I cannot promise anything Miss, but if he truly shows the people mercy and compensates them for all we've been through, the people might give him another chance."

You gave her a slight nod, and thanked the maid for her honesty.

"Hey!" A voice called from up the stairs.

The maid excused herself, and you looked at the staircase, to find a distressed Seonghwa running down towards you.

"Did you see the room?" He asked arms crossed over his chest.

You stayed quiet for a second and looked away from the man who stood apprehensively in front of you.

"No?" You lied.

"Aw come on! I wanted it to be a surprise! I knew I should've covered that paintings."

The image of a sulking Seonghwa was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. You wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his chest.

"I'm sorry, but I was too curious..." You paused and looked up at the man "If it serves any consolation, I was very surprised, and I loved it."

"Really?" He happily asked, flashing you his pearly whites.

You hummed in agreement, earning a small kiss from the man.

"Well, the surprises aren't over. There's a couple more, starting with tonight's dinner."

Before you could ask what he meant, Seonghwa grabbed your hand and dragged you towards a small room in the attic. It took a while to go up all of the marble stairs, and you were out of breath once you reached the room, but it was worth it.

The King gripped the golden handle of the red, wooden door, while looking at you with a big grin. Once he pushed it open, the most beautiful sight was prepared for you. The roof of the small room had a beautiful glass skylight, and the stars looked down at you as you stepped inside. There were white rose petals scattered all over the dark wooden floor, and a small table with two chairs sat in the middle. On the wall right in front of you was a lit fireplace, and the table was set for two, with the most beautiful cutlery you had ever seen. You noticed a letter sitting on one of the dishes, that you assumed was directed at you.

"I, uh... I learned to like white roses." Seonghwa said, embarrassed.

You remember the first time you met when he freaked out over the white roses in the garden. He moved to stand behind one of the chairs, and pulled it back.

"Come, sit down."

You obliged and sat down on the chair he held out of you The male sat in front of you and motioned towards the letter.

"Tomorrow we get married, and there are many things I want to tell you, but I can't. So I wrote it down."

You grabbed the letter and opened it. The King's calligraphy was beautiful and easy to read, but it didn't surprise you: everything about him was very neat.

'Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you have to read this, instead of hearing me say it, but I know that if I were to tell you how I feel, half of my sentiments would be left unsaid. I have lived a short life that felt very, very long. These years have dragged on relentlessly, but ever since you arrived, time flies. I hate going to sleep and I can't wait to wake up, to be with you, to look at you, to kiss you... I have had many experiences that I thought were love, but the second I laid eyes on you, I knew all of those previous times were wrong, I finally knew what love was. And recently I've come to find that love isn't only one thing, because somehow my love for you grows in many ways every day I spend with you. You may call me crazy, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, and I will keep my promise of changing to be a better King. Even if you stop loving me, even if you leave me, I will hold up my promise as proof of my everlasting love for you. But I must confess, I've imagined us growing old together, and one day, when I pass the crown onto my future child, I hope it is your child as well.

Forever yours,

Seonghwa.'

Tears streamed down your cheeks like two rivers and your bottom lip trembled as you read the letter.

"Ah, those are happy tears! Correct?"

You set down the letter and wiped away said tears with your wrists.

"Yes, yes they are. This was beautiful, Seonghwa, thank you."

"I'm afraid that's as far as the surprises go today, because when it comes to dinner," Seonghwa paused, revealing two sandwiches that would be your meal "I'm afraid it's mediocre. I tried my best but everything I made came out raw or burned, I'm afraid this is as far as my cooking abilities go."

You were surprised and very touched that he had done it all by himself, even if it were just some lousy sandwiches.

"You made dinner by yourself? Well, my good Sir, they must be delicious." You joked as you took one of them.

They weren't good, but they weren't bad either, and you appreciated the effort that had gotten into them. You imagined what kind of King Seonghwa would have been if the previous King had chosen to raise Seonghwa instead of his sister... Surely a kind, caring King that everyone looked up to, one every eligible young woman (and man) would bad their eyelashes at. It was truly a shame... But it wasn't too late for a change, you were hopeful.

You spent that night together, cuddling and telling stories while looking at the starry sky, and you eventually fell asleep on the many pillows Seonghwa had sprawled on the floor.

The next day, you woke up with a smile, remembering that your wedding was in a few hours.

You laid on top of Seonghwa and kissed him.

"Wake up sleepy head."

Seonghwa smiled, wrapped his arms around you and flipped the two of you, so you'd be under him.

"Good morning princess."

You help his face in your hands and smiled.

"After today I'll be a Queen."

"My Queen."

Your sappy moment was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Sir, Miss, I'm afraid we must commence dressing you for the wedding."

The King peeled himself off of you with a groan (but not before kissing you). He helped you get up, and the two of you followed the maid that took you both to your assigned fitting rooms. Seonghwa had picked his own suit, but you had no idea what he had in store for you. The second you opened the door, you were met with the most beautiful dress you had ever even imagined. It was white, with a tight corset that expanded into a glamorous princess-like puffy tulle. The tulle had many layers, and its bottom was decorated with pearls. The corset, while sleeveless and heart-shaped, had lace appliques that covered your chest and arms, and the torso was decorated with many sparky stones. The veil was equally decorated with pearls and had a tiara attached to it.

Attached to the dress there was a letter.

'They say white symbolizes faith. I have faith in you and in our marriage. Much love, Seonghwa.'

The maids helped you dress, very carefully and with care. They truly seemed to like you. One of them even fixed your hair in a pretty bun and attached the veil to it.

They had spent around an hour fixing everything, and when you were almost done, the door opened.

"The King is waiting for Miss Y/N."

And that was your queue to leave the room. You carefully walked down the stairs and made your way to the big ballroom, once the doors opened, with the announcement of your name, your eyes fell on Seonghwa, who was staring at you happily, in his new look. His hair was slicked back, no longer covering his eye, displaying it proudly, no longer ashamed of his past. His suit matched your dress: it was white and fit him neatly, and it only served as proof that Seonghwa looked good in any colour.

You noticed the crowd in the room, but you weren't too surprised. Although you had decided to hold a small wedding and not invite anyone, you two knew the people would want to see who was brave enough to marry their King, so the man opened the castle doors for anyone who wanted to witness the wedding.

To say the people were surprised to see the King smile was an understatement, but the fact was that he was smiling, and the smile grew wider for every step you took towards him.

The ceremony went beautifully. There were tears in your eyes and in Seonghwa's eyes, and as you celebrated and sealed the marriage, everyone clapped (to you and Seonghwa's surprise).

Everything went perfectly, until the toast. Seonghwa suggested a toast in your behalf after the maids handed every citizen a glass, and when you took a sip, your body felt weird, and you started shrinking, and shrinking, and shrinking until you looked like Thumbelina.

"Y-Y/N!?" Seonghwa asked frantically, as he looked at tiny you standing on the table.

"Tweedles, now!" Someone roared from the crowd.

The Tweedles grabbed you and tossed you over to the Hatter, who had been concealed in the crowd this whole time. After hearing about the wedding, the Hatter decided he would use the certain crowd and commotion to blend in and enter the castle. Without anyone noticing, Cheshire sprinkled some of Absolem's shrinking cake into your drink.

The Hatter grabbed you gently and Bayard came running in. He placed you on the dog and reached for his pocket to retrieve some cake as well.

The King, noticing what was happening before his very eyes, panicked. Tears streamed down his eyes and his bottom lip quivered.

"No! Please don't steal her away! Please!" He begged, running towards the group with one hand stretched out, hoping he could get to the dog before they left but to no avail.

The Hatter just laughed and shrunk himself, giving Bayard the signal to leave. The card knights tried to follow the dog but he was too fast, and there was no time to get the horses before losing sight of the dog. You were gone.

The King fell to his knees, and cried, as he stopped seeing you from the distance.

"Please, don't take her away from me..."

[shoichee]

teiko manager anon back ~ my juicy part 2 will disappoint bc guess what: we're skipping two years into the future. akashi never found out what happened, and by third year the gom were the epitome of cruelty. so reader picks a fight with them after meiko game, only to collapse out of stress after. they graduate, she follows kuroko to seirin and they train to defeat gom. but why is she so insecure and easily sad when gom is mentioned? they get their answer when they catch her overworking

oh teiko anon, so so bold.... really out here stirring the pot of chaos with this part 2 huh KEK alright folks BUCKLE IN YOUR SEATBELTS IT”S TIME FOR PART 2 and part 1 is right here ! part 3 will be here ! update: part 4 is here !

Akashi x Reader

Part 2

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

remember how I said in part 1 how Akashi would find out sooner or later? this would normally be the case, but in this exception…

you came back to school pretty quickly and restored, only to be in shock when Akashi himself confronts you about where you’ve been… like hello? YOUR CRUSH?? is? talking? to you? about your wellbeing?

here’s the thing, Akashi can easily detect lies through body language because he has an extraordinary sense of kinetic vision and critical thinking, but he’s still a human, not to mention… a middle schooler, and he’s not a true mind reader as some teammates would wholeheartedly believe

still, after some easy sleuthing he easily drew out confessions from some teammates who badmouthed you, although every single one were some type of half-truths and inconsistent testimonies that didn’t really make sense in painting a big picture

instead of incorrectly assuming things, he wanted to hear what’s been going on from your own mouth (keep in mind, this is still Oreshi, the guy who’s still cordial and wants to confirm this with you out of respect)

when he asks you some questions, he doesn’t detect any physical signs of lying from you, which only makes him believe that there wasn’t anything wrong to begin with other than you being under the weather and the other teammates saying utter nonsense either out of fear in his presence or using you as a scapegoat to cover up other delinquencies that he may have yet to discover

“(l/n)-san, I take it that you’ve been resting well? I heard from Kuroko that you were absent due to the seasonal flu.”

“Ah, y-yes! I’ve actually gotten plenty of rest and proper meals, so I’m back on my feet quicker than expected.”

“I actually also wanted to ask you something, if you don’t mind?”

“What is it?”

“Has anything odd happening to you lately? Anyone who has given you trouble or has been uncooperative with you as head manager as of late?”

at the question, you only frown in genuine confusion before you answer no; you genuinely believed that these teammates weren’t in the wrong for “speaking their mind” and if anything, you felt like you were the problem in not being capable enough in managing your own job and your health in the process (despite being knowledgeable in health yourself)

because Akashi saw that you weren’t lying, he dropped it completely out of respect and asked you that if there was anything troubling you that you could reach out to him

oh how he was so, so close to finding out the truth

this wouldn’t be brought up ever again because you and Akashi only continued to grow busier and busier with your own duties; eventually, your fears came true when the Generation of Miracles had in fact “left” you behind when their talents blossomed too fast and left unchecked

honestly, you developed a horrible habit of overworking despite Kuroko’s and Kise’s constant checks on you

what do you know? of course the coaches and faculty members would ignore your opposition against putting the GoMs in every game; after all some of them had been quite dismissive of you already

it’s kind of ironic because if Bokukashi was the one interrogating you back then, he would’ve either easily (correctly) assume based off of the teammates’ testimonies alone, or he’d be a lot more insistent in discerning the truth of the situation and nipping it right in the bud to stop the “nonsense”

but at the same time, Bokukashi has a lot more pressing priorities than a few poor-attitude teammates when he has the entire reputation of Tekio’s legacy on his shoulders; anything pertaining to you never crossed his mind ever since his domineering side emerged

you were really excited for Kuroko since he was gushing about playing against his old friend, since his friend couldn’t make it to finals the first time // needless to say, you were also Kuroko’s mental support when he felt really down at that time

after Kuroko sustained an injury in the game before Meiko, you immediately accompanied him to the infirmary

there, Kuroko requests you to go watch the game and you only reluctantly agree because you wanted to see the game just to relay back to Kuroko just in case if he couldn’t make it, and you were still a manager with a job to fulfill; you’d figure leaving Momoi to watch over was sufficient enough

when you walk out the door though… you bump into Akashi, which is the first time in a while where you two were face-to-face like this; your heart sank when you realize that you had to accept the fact that he’s changed and allowed the distance to grow between you two

but a small part of denial makes you quickly turn and flee out the hallway, but you really begin to evaluate your crush on him as you scurry away; Akashi just stares at you for a moment before he enters into the infirmary where Kuroko is

you’ve distanced yourself from other people (GoMs in particular) in basketball out of denial of the fact you were really left behind (plus, you already dread attending to their games because it’s always a cruel reminder that you’re not working hard enough to achieve results of the same level), which is why reality slapped you in the face after the aftermath of the Meiko game… when you witnessed the full extent of their cruelty on the court

you were really hurt—in fact, you looked more distraught than the Meiko teammates themselves

especially, since the fact that Kise himself, who you thought of him as someone you can trust in, partook in this as well (this is actually your first time in seeing his cruel side in action, since he’s always been very sweet and helpful to you because he respects you)

you first confronted Kise when he was alone for a bit, sounding absolutely heartbroken and on the verge of tears; you shocked him out of his cold side and he immediately becomes a mother hen and asking if you needed water or a seat to calm down before you overexert yourself

after telling him your feelings about the game and your growing distance in the friendship, he sincerely apologizes for making you feel in such an awful way and tells you to let him know next time before a game, so that he wouldn’t suggest this type of entertainment for the game again.

you were in complete disbelief… the fact that your best friend suggested this himself? You dumbly asked for his reason, and he only says that you wouldn’t understand it because no one ever gives the GoM a proper challenge

even though he didn’t intend anything bad when he said this, it just made you feel worse, but you still accepted the apology to get it over with

the other GoMs come and you immediately become angry again and tension just skyrockets; Midorima simply looks away and says nothing, and Murasakibara and Aomine do most of the talking back/arguing… and Akashi only impassively stares at you

later, when Kuroko himself confronts them while everyone was walking in the hallway, you completely lagged behind on the group, tearfully staring at the backs of the GoMs and how you felt really alienated and unmotivated to continue being a manager for a team you don’t even recognize anymore

you grew dizzy again, and you knew your body was dealing with too much at once but you willed your body to at least last the trip

at least you gave a warning when you assumed that you were away from the GoMs at Teiko before you went unconscious; Kise happens to catch you before he brings you to the school infirmary

he does stay with you the entire time, knowing the reason for your collapse was all the extreme emotional and mental toll accumulated in such a short time; he feels absolutely guilty, and when you were about to stir awake, he simply leaves a lighthearted note and a cutely shaped bread before he leaves, knowing that you’d be stressed again if you saw him (around this time is when Kuroko confronts Akashi to quit the team, which is why he was nowhere near you at the time of your collapse/rest)

you felt better that at least Kise still sees you as a close friend when you see what he left behind

you still feel awful, to say the least

it felt wrong of you to quit mid-season, since you felt that you were simply giving up and further perpetuating the fact that you weren’t doing the most that you could

but you didn’t feel like staying for the rest of the season, so you decided to overwork yourself again to get the rest of the paperwork and training plans out of the way for the remainder of the games; you even left detailed instructions to Momoi in how to relieve certain pressure points and muscles for instant relief in case someone hurts themselves

a little timeskip where you decided to tag along Kuroko in attending Seirin High, but you were more reluctant in joining basketball again because you didn’t want to re-experience the stress and burdens in Teiko

well, until you made friends with Riko, and her story in how she was skeptical about basketball at first too inspires you to give it a try again

Kuroko feels really happy that you’re at ease again for the first time, but he definitely notices how you grow gloomy when the Seirin teammates praise the GoMs

you slowly relapse into the habit of overworking to “compensate” for your lack of contributions to Seirin’s team, but this time, every member DROPKICKS you to stop working and relax sometimes (Riko and Hyuuga are the main culprits)

even though you never tell them the reason for your poor habits, the Seirin team members just SENSE and KNOW what to say to make you feel like you’re doing more than enough to support the team in their own unique ways (Mitobe giving really cute shoulder pats and thumbs-ups… Koganei giving you slaps on the back and high-fives… Riko bluntly telling you to relax and giving you encouraging winks… Hyuuga being a roundabout in his praises… Teppei openly praising you… and Kagami telling you that you were doing too much LOL)

Kuroko gives you the SOFTEST SMILES (everyone freaks out every time he does that, it’s hilarious)

however, wounds slowly reopen more once again every time Seirin goes against schools that the respective GoM plays for

after every win Seirin achieves against the GoM’s respective school, each GoM would eventually learn a little tidbits here and there about your tendency to overwork and collapse and possible speculations of why, but you never confirm anything with them

even though you easily forgive Kise after the Seirin vs. Kaijo match (seeing how he interacted with Kagami and Kuroko in the park), for the others… you weren’t so ready to confront…

… particularly with Akashi

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million CH 5

Ok ok it’s here!! Once again, thank you @knittingdreams and @inloveoknutzy for being such amazing betas ❤️ And thank you @wonder-womans-ex for the idea of Sirius making awful cookies haha @donttouchmycarrots @sunflowerfox87 @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @whataboutmyfries Please let me know if I forgot anyone that wanted to be tagged! :)

And of course, the lovely characters are from @lumosinlove ‘s world 

Thank you so much for reading y’all! ❤️

Masterlist

Chapter 5 - Making amends

Sirius had a plan.

It was very simple. He wanted to clear the air with Remus, show him he wasn’t a horrible person. And to do that, he needed to stop being an ass.

Sirius had never been more self-conscious of how much his family affected his moods. He hated the idea of them having that kind of power over him. After all, he’d escaped that house years ago to avoid precisely that: having no control over his own life.

He had a tendency to go on a self-destructive streak whenever he felt overwhelmed by his parents' demands, it was the only way he knew how to cope with it. It was unhealthy, he was perfectly aware of that, and he was tired of not being able to find another way. Yeah, he wanted to do something nice for Remus to compensate for his behaviour, but he also wanted to do this for himself. So, now that he was feeling like his own person again, Sirius was going to fix all of his bad habits, go back to being a decent human being, and apologize to Remus. 

It was going to work.

“That’s not gonna work.”

Sirius stared at Finn. He was sprawled on the couch, carding his fingers through Logan’s hair, who was sitting between his legs. Sirius would never admit it, but sometimes he was jealous of the relationship they had. He yearned for something like that.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, you can do all of that, but it will all be for nothing if he still refuses to even look at your face.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re Padfoot?” James asked as he walked into the room with two bowls of snacks in his hands, before he plopped down on the floor. “D’you think he’d tell?”

“No, I don’t believe Remus would do something like that. He would definitely try to keep Padfoot’s identity. I just…” Sirius trailed off and stared down at his hands, fiddling with them on his lap. Then he lifted his head to look at James’ confused expression. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen again. Not that I think Remus would try to take advantage of my popularity, but I…” he heaved a sigh, “I don’t want him to like me just because I’m Padfoot. I want him to like me because of me.”

There was a short silence as his three friends glanced at each other, and then Logan snorted.

“You big softie,” he said with a smirk. Sirius threw a cushion to his face.

He didn’t tell them the other reason why he was reluctant to tell Remus the truth: he was scared he would disappoint him.

The man thought so highly of Padfoot, it was so obvious by the way he spoke of him and how his eyes shone when he did. But would he still think the same if he knew that Padfoot was in fact his annoying neighbour? It seemed so important to him, for reasons Sirius didn’t understand, but still. He didn’t want to ruin that for Remus.

“So what are you going to do?” James said through a mouthful of chips.

Sirius perked up and smiled wickedly at his friends, making them groan even before he started talking.

“I’m glad you asked, Prongs. I’m gonna start by soundproofing my recording room. Which is why you lot are here today.”

James let out an audible gasp, “and here I thought you actually enjoyed our company. You were planning on using us all along!” he tilted his head up, placing his wrist on his forehead like he was about to faint.

“Outrageous.”

“I’m shocked.”

“I never expected this of you, Sirius,” Finn added, pretending to wipe the corner of his eyes.

“D’accord, d’accord!” Sirius huffed. “Dinner’s on me, oui? Don’t look at me like that, Prongs. I know you’ll be recording in here as well, so you might as well stop complaining and help.”

“Why are we here then?” Logan grumbled as he burrowed closer to Finn’s front, searching for his warmth.

“Cause you love me too much, and cause me and James alone would probably end up building a fort instead.”

James grinned cheekily at him, like he hadn’t dismissed that idea yet, but he got up. The four of them went to the room at the end of the hall, where Sirius had a couple of computers, lots of collectibles, and piles of acoustic foam and command strips to do the job.

“You know, you could probably teach Remus a thing or two about video editing. Leo showed us some of them and they’re good, but they are missing a little something,” Finn said offhandedly.

Sirius tripped over a chair, sending it wheeling against the desk.

“You...you saw the videos?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but the effect was completely ruined with Logan snickering in the background. 

“Wait, since when are you friends with Leo?” James raised his eyebrows as he stared suspiciously from Logan to Finn.

Finn blushed slightly, but it was Logan who answered. “Oh, you know... we hung out a couple of times after the party. He’s cool.”

“He’s cool,” Sirius snorted. He hadn’t missed the way all three of them had thrown glances at each other all night at Halloween. There was something going on that he didn’t quite understand yet, but he wanted to give them the space they needed to talk about it if they wanted to.

Besides, there were other things on his mind as of then.

He’d completely forgotten about the existence of those videos. How that had happened after the display he saw on the balcony the other day was beyond him. Working on the room and waiting for the guys to be distracted enough was torture for Sirius. He had to keep reminding himself it was for a good cause, that Remus and his other neighbours would appreciate it.

But as soon as the food arrived and the guys sat down in the living room to watch TV, Sirius disappeared back into his recording room.

Finding the videos wasn’t hard. Apparently, there weren’t that many Remuses out there that were yoga instructors. Shocking, he knew. He pulled up the first video that appeared and almost choked on his breath.

There was Remus, bent backwards in the air over another man’s feet. Sirius registered at the back of his mind that the man was Leo, but he was more focused on the way Remus seemed to be flying as Leo, who was lying on the floor, kept him up by pressing his feet at Remus’ lower back and curve of his ass. A pop-up note at the bottom of the screen said the pose was called “back bow”. Sirius could understand why Finn thought he could use some help with editing, but right then, he didn’t really give a crap about that. Not with Remus’ muscles stretched taught to keep himself balanced and in shape, the tights he was wearing hugging the length of his legs and hips snugly, leaving very little to the imagination.

Sirius watched, transfixed, at the way Remus bent gracefully, his lean body arching and flipping in the air before Leo caught him. It was fucking gorgeous.

At the end of the video, a link was dropped that Sirius clicked almost on instinct. He was led to a website that offered all sorts of merchandise: mats, t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, leggings, and a few more things. Before Sirius could stop to analyse his fanboy (and slightly stalkerish) behaviour, he started adding stuff to the cart.

“Sirius, what the hell are you doing? Your food is getting cold.” James entered the room but stopped short when Sirius hastily got up and stood in front of the computer screen. He raised an eyebrow and glanced around his best friend, surprise marking his features when he got a look at what he was doing. “You really are smitten, aren’t you?”

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face, dropping himself back on the chair. He could talk about it with James, James wouldn’t make fun of him. “I...I don’t know. I’m just so curious about him. Like...I really want to talk to him more? Is that weird?”

“Nah, it’s not.” He walked over and propped himself on the desk next to Sirius, “I think it’s great that you’re actually trying. Don’t…” he sighed, “don’t close yourself off. You don’t need to do that anymore.”

Finn and Logan’s laughs drifted in through the door, breaking the haze in Sirius’ thoughts.

“Yeah...Yeah, thanks Potts.”

James bumped his fist against Sirius’ shoulder, smiling fondly at him. “No problem. Now get your ass there and eat your food.” He slung an arm around Sirius’ neck and started dragging him to the living room.

Sirius laughed and let himself be steered into a chair as he stole a glance at his two other friends, who were stealing kisses and food from each other, thinking that maybe James had a point. Maybe it was ok for him to want this.

***

Standing in front of the door with the number ten on it, Sirius felt a bit like an idiot. He was there, with a canvas painting -wrapped neatly in parchment paper- under one arm, and a box of homemade cookies in his hand.

Lily had mentioned what it was exactly that Sirius had broken, and Sirius had looked at many local artists until he found one he thought was perfect.

The cookies had been Sirius’ idea. He’d made them himself and vowed to never let any of his friends find out about it or he wouldn’t be able to live it down. 

Pumping himself up, Sirius plastered his best smile on his face and knocked on the door. A few moments later it swung open, and then Remus was in front of him, still looking back into his apartment with a smile.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, but when he turned around and looked at Sirius, his smile faltered. The waver of those lips made Sirius’ heart tremble too. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Sirius breathed. After a few seconds of both of them just staring at each other, Sirius cleared his throat. “Can I...um...Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” Remus seemed surprised, but he crossed his arms and stared at him, waiting.

Oh, this is worse than I thought. Sirius shifted his weight. “Is it ok if I come in?” he asked, and then he thought about Remus’ first words. “Or..oh shit, do you have company?”

“No,” Remus frowned. He glanced suspiciously at the stuff on Sirius’ hands before he heaved a sigh and stepped back to let him through.

Sirius’ first impression of Remus’ flat was that it suited him. It was warm, just like Remus seemed to be with anyone that wasn’t Sirius. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by him in the past few weeks how sweet and kind he was, always smiling and helping others. Sirius really wanted to be his friend. Ok, maybe more than friends, but right now, he would be happy with just that.

“What do you need?” Remus asked in an uninterested tone. He didn’t invite Sirius to sit down, and instead just stood there in the middle of the living room.

Sirius turned to look at him, his mouth opening to start apologising, but his attention was drawn to something behind the other man. Cocoa was approaching them slowly, placing one paw in front of the other without making a sound, his yellow eyes focused on Sirius’ face and his lips slightly pulled up.

A wide smile pulled at Sirius’ mouth, his eyes lighting up. “Hey doggy!” He crouched, extending a hand towards the animal.

“Sirius, don’t!” Remus tried to stop the dog, but Cocoa was already onto Sirius. And then he froze altogether at what he saw. Cocoa merely sniffed Sirius’ hand, sat down, and started wagging his tail.

Sirius laughed, “whoa, you’re even larger up close.” His eyes found Remus’. “Why are you so jumpy? He’s such a good dog,” he said as he started scratching Cocoa’s ears, “aren’t you?”

The wolfdog barked once and leaned into Sirius’ hand with its tongue hanging out.

“I...I don’t get it,” Remus was staring at him in awe, his mouth hanging open as his dog got closer to Sirius.

“What?”

“Cocoa is never so friendly with strangers. It usually takes him a long time to stop being alert and wary...but he seems to like you.”

Cocoa licked Sirius’ face as if to confirm that statement, making Sirius laugh again.

“Of course he does. We’re the same, aren’t we boy?”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, still looking slightly disoriented.

“Well, I’m named after the dog star, aren’t I? And I’m a Black,” he gestured between himself and Cocoa as if he was stating something obvious.

The corners of Remus’ lips lifted up like he was trying really hard not to smile.

“Oh my God, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” he said, covering his mouth with a hand.

“You can deny it all you want, but he loves me.”

Cocoa inched even closer to Sirius and put his nose on the box that was still in his hand.

“Oh no, that’s not for you. Sorry, boy.”

“I’ve actually been meaning to ask, but what exactly is that?” Remus frowned.

“Oh, right.” Sirius petted Cocoa one last time and got up, fidgeting with the paper covering the present he’d brought. “Well, this is why I wanted to talk to you. I um…I only found out a few days ago that you were the person I bumped into that day. I just wanted to make amends.”

He handed Remus the big square package and waited anxiously as the other man narrowed his eyes at him and started ripping the paper off. He was pretty confident in the choice he’d made, but he hoped Remus would like it.

“What the hell is this?”

Remus was staring down at the landscape peeking out of the torn paper: a beautiful impressionist rendition of a full moon over a waterfall, with a pack of wolves peeking out of a forest. It was very well done, and not at all deserving of the glare Remus was throwing its way. Sirius’ head was reeling. How did he manage to make someone so kind and polite react in this way every time?

“I know it’s not the same as the one I broke, but I-”

“Damn right it’s not!” Remus snapped. His hands were shaking. Cocoa seemed to sense something was wrong, cause he was there in an instant, standing in front of Remus, trying to find where the threat was. Remus plunged on, his voice rising with an emotion Sirius couldn’t place, “My mum made that for me! You think you can just replace it with any expensive crap? You can’t possibly believe this is the same as something that meant so much to me, something that kept me going during-” Remus cut himself off and looked up to the ceiling. He was breathing hard, rubbing his temple with one hand while he held the painting in the other.

“I...I didn’t know. I… fuck,” Sirius closed his eyes, cursing himself, before looking pleadingly at Remus, trying to convey his emotions properly. “I’m so, so sorry. I never intended it to be a replacement. I...I just wanted to apologise.”

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up royally before he’d even properly met the guy, all because he couldn’t control his bad temper. He should probably go before making things worse. But he didn’t want to. He’d come here to make everything better, not to leave things like this. Glancing around to buy some time, he tried to think of a way to reverse the situation.

His eyes found something and, without even thinking about it, he blurted, “oh, so you bought the game?”

“What?” 

Sirius pointed awkwardly to the NHL game box sitting on top of the coffee table. “I know we started on the wrong foot, but maybe we can have a rematch? Break the ice with something we’re both comfortable with?”

Remus stared at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was right, but Sirius was anything if not determined.

“Remus, I’m trying, ok? Just...I have cookies?” He shook the box hopefully, making the cookies rattle inside.

Remus took a deep breath, thinking it over as he stared at Sirius. He heaved a sigh when he reached a conclusion, his chest deflating as some of the anger left his body. "Fine."

He gestured for Sirius to take a seat while he went over to place the half-opened package in another room. Sirius opened the box of cookies and left it on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, tapping his fingers over his legs as he waited.

The couch was probably big enough for three people, but when Remus walked over, he eyed the free spot next to Sirius and sat on the floor in front of the table instead.

Well, their thighs were definitely not touching this time.

The air was so tense as Remus started up the game, that Sirius thought it would snap and hit them both in the face.

Cocoa padded over and jumped onto the sofa, placing his head on Sirius' lap.

"Traitor," Remus muttered, making Sirius snort despite the heavy atmosphere. From where he was sitting, Sirius could only see his profile, but he was sure he saw the man throw a sideway glance at him and purse his lips. He reached over to grab a cookie, biting into it with extra force, and he instantly pulled a face. "These cookies suck."

Sirius was surprised by such a blatant answer. He leaned forward on his elbows, placing his chin on his hands to try and hide the blush he could feel creeping up his neck.

"They can't be that bad." He snatched one from the box, propping it in his mouth under Remus' attentive eyes, and instantly started coughing. "Oh my god."

"Where the hell did you buy them?"

"How did they turn out so bad?!"

"Wait…" Remus turned to look at him fully, his lips pressed in a thin line to suppress a smile, "did you make these?"

"No," Sirius replied instantly.

"Oh God, you did!"

"Très bien, je les ai faits! I'm sorry I offended you with my awful cooking skills, I just wanted to give you the neighbourly welcome I owed you, d'accord?"

"What are you, 60? Minnie from the floor below made biscuits for me when I moved in."

Sirius sputtered, placing a hand over his heart, "what?! She never made cookies for me!"

“It’s not a competition, jeez.”

“But I wanted cookies,” Sirius pouted.

“You can have these,” Remus deadpanned as he flicked the box.

“Ugh, stop that. That’s the last time I try doing something nice for you,” he grumbled. Remus looked stunned for a second before he turned away.

It was quiet while each of them chose their team and started playing. They were a lot more relaxed in their game than they'd been last time, although that didn't mean they weren't giving it their best.

After a while of being absolutely silent, Sirius sighed. He felt Remus throw a quick side glance at him before looking back at the front.

"I owe you another apology."

The sound of the buttons being pressed and the low noises from the TV were the only things that could be heard as they both stared stubbornly at the screen.

"What for?"

"I've been an ass."

"Yeah, you have."

Sirius chuckled once, "yeah, I have," he said softly. He ran a hand through his hair, checking the score. He was winning, but he didn't really care this time around. "My family...they don't approve of my line of work. I'm not trying to make excuses for my behavior or anything, I just...I was having a really rough time that day." Remus raised an eyebrow at the TV, making Sirius laugh again, "and the days after that too. Damn, my friends had to check up on me every day to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.” He glanced down nervously, afraid that he’d said too much, but Remus was still staring at the tiny players. “I just needed to get out of the flat as fast as possible. I wanted to apologise afterwards, but I didn't even know it was you. Bottom line is, I am on edge whenever they get involved in my life, and I act stupidly, and I am sorry you got caught up in that. I promise I am working on it."

Remus was silent for a few minutes, mulling something over in his head.

"Hospital," he whispered finally.

"What?"

"I was in the hospital when my mum gave me that." He hesitated before saying more. Sirius wanted to see what expression he was making. "I was stuck there for a long time, alone, and that painting was the only thing that kept me from feeling trapped. It helped me calm down."

Sirius’ heart gave a painful tug at the desolation in Remus’ voice. He had no idea how they’d gotten into this heart-to-heart moment, but his hand instinctively left the controller as he bent down to place it on top of Remus’, giving it a light squeeze.

Remus was startled, finally turning to look at Sirius. The sounds from the game kept ringing in the background, but none of them were looking at it anymore.

“I really am sorry,” he said, gazing intently at him. Remus’ eyes were the richest shade of gold he’d ever seen, glowing warmly, and Sirius was sure that he could light up even the darkest corners of his being. How had he not noticed this before?

The room went a bit colder when those eyes left his to glance at their hands.

“Are you ok?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, I just-” Remus removed his hand to rub at his neck. “I have things to do. You should go.”

It was clearly a lie, and Sirius knew not to push it.

As he made his way back to his own flat, he had no idea if he’d fixed anything or if he’d just made everything worse.

[doctor-jon-crane]

written for @jovialjuggernaut-draws and their recent art

now i’ve never written nygma before except in rp so you can be brutal if need be

i’ve also never written riddlebat but there’s a first for everything i guess

I can only speak so slow, idiots. [Riddlebat]

Edward Nygma had met a lot of stupid people. Living in Gotham it was almost an inevitability. He swore the citizens got stupider by the day, although it could be the amount of lead and toxins in the water causing their braincells to flee to Metropolis. Last he checked online there was a Joker fan club with almost an alarming amount of people in it. The henchmen seemed to get stupider too, although that was most likely caused by the amount of brain damage caused by Bruce connecting his fist to their skull. The villains seemed to manage avoiding whatever was creating the lack of intellect in the city, but that wasn't saying much. For God's sake, there was someone who's theme was based around condiments, and Valentin doing whatever he did in that disgusting basement of his. Truly, there was no intelligence in Gotham, and every day he saw examples of people being morons.

This, however, was the stupidest thing he had seen to date.

Someone had dared to capture him. He would have loved to learn who to pay them a visit when Bruce wasn't looking later, but it seemed these morons barely knew what to call themselves either. They were even doing the cliché tactic of keeping one light pointed in his face so he couldn't see, all while attempting to deepen their voices in a rather pathetic display.

"Tell us what we want to know!"

Edward rolled his eyes for what felt like the 100th time this night, although one throbbed from the forming black eye. They had done a number on him, but it was nothing worse than what he used to get. If anything it was like they were going easy on him, although they probably thought they had him scared shitless.

"And I keep telling you morons I don't even know what you want!"

They kept demanding information on Batman but they wouldn't even go into specifics. They just kept growling 'tell us about Batman' like they were wild animals with no other way to communicate.

"What do you want to know about him, pray tell? His identity, what gadgets he stores, the size of his dick?"

"Yes! Wait, no, I mean - " He couldn't see much past the light but they were all looking at each other slightly confused. "Just tell us about the Bat!"

He was going to write Crane a strongly worded letter about poisoning the water supply again, this was getting too much to bare.

"Oh, it's like shouting into space. Let me explain this to you all in a way your small, near nonexistent brains can comprehend. I don't know what you want to know about the Batman, and even if you did manage to crack open a dictionary and find more words than the select few you seem capable of speaking tonight, I would not tell you. Not because I don't want to, because at this point I would happily tell you anything you want to know so I didn't have to deal with your painful stupidity, but because I simply don't think you would understand. You brainless monkeys probably don't even understand half of what I'm saying and I'm trying to use the smallest words available to drill through your thick skulls."

"Shut up!" The leader of the group stepped forward and hit him smack across the cheek, head turning from the force as he winced, blinking in pain, face flushed from the blood rushing upwards.

"Well, am I supposed to shut up or am I supposed to tell you Batman fun facts?"

The man grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him up off the ground, chair following along with as the two entered a glaring match. "You talk way too fucking much."

"Isn't that what you wanted, you moron?"

The oversized idiot let out a snarl of rage, prepared to do something to surely show how much he needed to compensate for, before the familiar sound of shattering glass caught the attention of all involved. The leader clearly couldn't focus on two things at once, dropping Edward back on the ground as he turned and watched a bat-shaped bastard fly though the window. He would have loved to watch what would happen next, but unfortunately his chair didn't prefer being dropped and tipped over, taking the genius with it.

He sighed, his everything hurting as he heard the familiar sounds of fighting and Batman shattering bones. That sound used to be so exhilarating, because then he knew his match had finally arrived. Now it was simply annoying because he just wanted to be let out of this damn chair.

The fight died out quickly to no one's surprise, and the chair was being righted with careful grace, Edward following familiar hands as they cut the ropes with a batarang.

"Sorry I couldn't be here sooner. I didn't realize you were gone until after I finished clearing out the warehouse by the docks."

Edward resisted the urge to roll his eye simply because it hurt to do so, standing on his own despite Bruce's offering. "Just take me home. I need extra strength everything to deal with the headache these jackasses have given me."

Bruce simply raised an eyebrow at him, and Edward was very tempted to hit him, if he knew Bruce wouldn't catch his hand. "Get a smarter fan club next time."

Bruce just smiled that awful, annoying smile that Edward swore up and down he hated, at least in the moment, and reached out to grip his forearm reassuringly. "I'm glad you're okay, Eddie."

Edward scoffed, but he didn't move to push the oversized bat off. "Yes, yes, you can pamper me and apologize for you negligence when we get home. For now I just want a very fast ride in your car."

He paused, frowning. "And some paper and pens."

"Why?"

"I have a letter to write to a luddite who still doesn't own a phone in this day and age about putting too many chemicals in the watering hole of Gotham."

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 6 - Going Home

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, bitter to bittersweet, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is my bestie who makes me these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The next morning was uncharacteristically cloudy. It took the boys a long time to climb out of bed. Reggie was sprawled over most of the larger bed, and Bobby seemed to have stolen the covers (and Reggie’s teddy bear) to compensate for being curled up into one corner. Luke was face down on the couch and somehow not suffocating to death. Alex had lain awake for a while, staring out the window and watching the light slowly creep further into the room. He’d tried sleeping more and eventually his head was buzzing with too many thoughts to keep it up any longer.

It already felt like years from yesterday. Everything was this image of beautiful long hair and dark brown eyes that were a world away, and yet they had more gravity in them than he’d ever seen. Alex was ruined for tie-dye and puka shells for the rest of his life. He knew he’d see nothing else but Willie in them. Skateboards were in a whole other category. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just attached himself to another person besides Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

He heard Reggie roll out of bed and enter the bathroom, and the motion caused the whole room to stir. Luke lifted his head, and after some confused staring at the arm of the couch, turned on his side and sighed heavily. A tired smile came across his face, and he had that besotted sort of look to him - the one the rest of the guys had associated with ‘Julie on the mind’ - and Alex finally understood. Did he look like that now, too?

Bobby sat up abruptly, a look of sleepy disorientation on his face. Reggie’s bear was clutched tightly to his chest, and he had to look down and realize it was there before gently setting it down on Reggie’s side. Luke simply gave him a puzzled look as he wordlessly climbed out of the bed and went to push Reggie over and share the bathroom sink to shave. Alex absent-mindedly ran his hand over the bottom half of his face, feeling the still-smooth skin underneath his fingers.

The morning was full of light chatter, most of them still too tired to gush about the night before. It was already too late to enjoy the continental breakfast the hotel served, and after each of them finished getting ready and packing, they all looked around at each other.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, boys?” Luke said. Reggie’s stomach growled loudly in the pause that followed.

“I’m gonna guess we find food?” Reggie responded.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I’m pretty sure he’s talking about where.”

All three of them looked at Alex expectantly and he blinked back at them.

“Are you guys just gonna stare or are we gonna eat?” he joked dryly.

They all headed down to the lobby and checked out, dumping their luggage in the van. Even though no one had mentioned the diner, there seemed to be the silent agreement that that’s where they were going. Alex briefly considered suggesting that the guys go to the arcade again, but thought better of it. They were all chill with Willie; he didn’t have to hide anything. Sitting at the same table they had the day before, Alex noticed the place was busy this time around.

A tall man with dark hair approached their table. Alex recognized him from the brief peek out the kitchen door, and the reminder from Willie later: Caleb. He had a clean look to him - pristine was perhaps a better word - and he smiled widely.

“Welcome boys! How are we this morning!” he greeted cheerfully. It greatly contrasted Alex’s first impression, but he thought to keep an open mind. Willie hadn’t really said anything bad about him, only admitted that he sometimes put people off, which Alex could understand if he was running a diner. The charisma was unexpected.

“Oh, we could eat!” Reggie said excitedly.

“Music to my ears,” Caleb said, clapping his hands together. “Anything I can get started for you?”

Alex didn’t pay attention to what everyone else said as he skimmed the diner for signs of Willie. Two other servers were going around but neither of them were him. There wasn’t a proper way to peek into the kitchen either, so if Willie were to show up he’d come through the door. The image of him skating up to them instead of walking nearly made Alex laugh aloud. Luke elbowed him in the arm. Looking up, he saw Caleb waiting for him to order.

“Sorry, uh,” he sputtered. “Toast and eggs, with the banana.”

Caleb merely nodded, as if he had expected as much.

“Wonderful. I’ll have those out for you boys in the blink of an eye.” He turned neatly on his heel. Alex tried not to be too obvious as he attempted to glimpse through the doorway as Caleb entered the kitchen.

“He was nice!” Reggie said.

“Doesn’t count,” Alex told him. “He’s the boss.” It hadn’t meant to slip out sounding that way, but there was likely a bit of truth to it. He was just...disappointed he wasn’t who he’d hoped to see. Alex guessed after so many chance meetings yesterday, reality had to resurface somehow.

Bobby shot him a worried look, but got distracted by Reggie pulling out a napkin and trying to make it into some sort of shape. Alex recalled the frog and wished he had kept it. Reggie’s turned out to be a fortune teller, but since he couldn’t write anything inside he simply used it as a goofy sort of puppet and kept trying to snap at everyone’s fingers.

Luke sat up in that way he usually did like a lightbulb had come on in his head, and he grabbed a napkin as well. Then he looked around, grabbed a pen from the host’s counter, and began scribbling words on the napkin as best he could.

“Got some inspiration?” Alex teased.

Luke shushed him as he focused on getting everything down, and then began humming a melody in a low voice, repeating it to himself. Caleb came back with their plates as he did so. As he carefully laid their orders before them, he eyed Luke in curiosity.

“Are we musicians, here?” he asked with piqued interest.

“Yeah, actually we’re Sunset Curve,” Bobby told him.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie added.

“Well, I certainly have friends to tell,” Caleb mentioned. “You wouldn’t happen to have done any gigs around here, would you?”

“We just played at the Pearl last night,” Luke said proudly.

Caleb raised his eyebrows with a slight smile.

“Impressive,” he mused. “Something tells me you could become big. Consider your meal on the house, courtesy of Caleb Covington.”

All of them looked at him in awe.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Luke said incredulously.

“Oh, of course!” Caleb assured. “You boys deserve all the help you can get to make it in the big leagues. If you ever pass this way again, you can count on us to serve you here and have a place in my hotel.”

“Wait, you own the hotel too?” Reggie asked.

“Just a small monopoly in the market,” Caleb shrugged. “All to serve rockstars like you.”

“”Right on!” Luke smiled, digging into his plate.

“You boys call me if you need anything else,” Caleb insisted as he made off with his empty tray.

All of them ate with enthusiasm. Alex tried to shut up the battle in his mind about how he felt over the whole interaction. Caleb was so generous, how could his first impression have been so wrong? Was he irrationally holding it against Caleb that Willie was nowhere to be seen and that was the only thing bothering him? It didn’t matter, he guessed. They had free food and guaranteed lodging any time they were in Vegas now. That was an investment in the future.

Luke continued to hum and tap and write the whole time, which only bothered the couple sitting behind him. Reggie was bobbing his head along and Alex could see the bassline forming in his head by the concentration on his face.

“Okay, I’m guessing we’re gonna jam this one out on the way back, so who’s driving?” Bobby wondered.

“Trick question,” Alex said. “It’s gonna be me so I don’t get carsick again.”

When they all finished eating Caleb came to clear away their plates.

“I rarely see plates this clean,” he commented. “Looks like you enjoyed yourselves!”

“Compliments to the cook,” Luke said. “They make some gnarly pancakes.”

“I hire the best,” Caleb told him. He rested their plates with one arm as they each got up to leave. “Safe travels, boys. And remember, I’m always looking out for you.”

Alex was the last to leave the booth and took a moment as the other three bounded outside. Caleb raised an eyebrow, waiting to listen.

“Um,” Alex hesitated, wringing his hands. “I met Willie yesterday. Could you just tell him Alex said goodbye? I’d appreciate it.” It wasn't even close to what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to go about explaining the entirety of the day before to this man.

Caleb gave a strange half nod, saying nothing in return. Alex guessed it was a silent promise - maybe he knew what Alex was actually talking about and wasn’t about to broadcast it to the whole restaurant? He didn’t necessarily come off as straight himself, now that Alex thought about it. It was slightly comforting. Returning a small smile to say thank you, he ran to catch up with the boys.

Bobby tossed him the keys to the van and they all climbed in.

“Okay, let’s get to jamming that song before I forget the best part!” Luke cried.

Alex started the ignition and felt his chest weigh a hundred pounds as he pulled away from the diner. Everything inside wanted to stay. Or find Willie and take him along. He peeked at intervals through the rearview mirror, hoping to see him running out from the diner to say goodbye. A hand grasped his shoulder and he turned to see Reggie looking at him sympathetically. He’d caught onto more than Alex had noticed. They only heaved a quick sigh as Alex felt his body begin to shake slightly and he focused his eyes on the road. It was going to be a long four hours.

Much later, the guys were gathered again at the hospital Julie’s mom, Rose, was at. The rest of them had their acoustics while Alex carried a cheap little djembe drum. They were dog-tired but Luke was pulling every ounce of his energy forward to keep all of them hyped. Currently, he was on the phone with Julie, verifying how soon she would be there with them.

“Hey, Alex,” Bobby nudged him as they sat in the waiting room. “Ballroom Blitz?”

“Now?” Alex said, looking around at the gloomy nurses and residents shuffling about their business.

“Yeah, as a warm up.”

He couldn’t help the smile growing on his lips.

“Okay, we just gotta keep Reggie in check.”

Bobby chuckled and shook his head, knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

Alex started up the beat on his djembe as Bobby grinned. Reggie sat up as he tried to figure out what they were doing.

“Are you ready Steve?” Bobby began, trying to stay soft so it wasn’t too alarming. Reggie beamed as he realized what was happening. “Andy? Mick? Alright fellas! Let’s goooooo!” He came in with the main riff as residents’ and patients’ heads turned to see what was happening. Luke had gotten off the phone and was already grabbing his guitar

They managed to get calmly through the verse before Reggie couldn’t help but let the energy take over.

“I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes were as red as the sun! And a girl in the corner, let no one ignore her ‘cuz she thinks she’s the passionate one! OOHH YEEAAH!”

All four of them came together for the chorus.

“And the man at the back said ‘Everyone attack’ and it turned into a ballroom blitz! And the girl in the corner said ‘Boy, I wanna warn ya it’ll turn into a ballroom blitz! Ballroom blitz!” They were all getting into jamming now, and Alex was lost in the rhythm with the rest of them.

A nurse finally approached them with a loud voice.

“OKAY BOYS!” she cried, an expression on her face that meant serious business. Each of them faltered in the middle of playing and looked at her like chastised puppies. “Thank you, you sound lovely. Unfortunately, there’s a few patients we don’t wanna disturb, so if you could please save it for your little thing later, we would like that very much.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all murmured sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she smiled exaggeratedly and went on with her business. Once her back was turned, Reggie pulled a funny face and shrugged, causing them all to suppress their laughter.

“You guys, we could hear you from the elevator,” they all heard. Turning around, Julie stood behind them shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Ray and her brother Carlos were only a few steps behind. Luke bounded over a chair, guitar in hand, to meet her.

“We ready boss?” he enthused.

“Yeah, we just need to check in. We told her we were coming, but not you guys.”

Like the dork he was, Luke simply made the shaka sign with his hand in excitement. Alex felt newly energized from the song, and knew that what they were doing meant so much to Julie and her family. Everything that had been weighing on him all day could be set aside for this.

Shortly, they followed the Molinas to Rose’s room.

“Hey, mom,” Julie said tenderly. The woman had a scarf on her head, and she looked so tired and weak everywhere except in her eyes.

“Sweetheart, who’s this?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.

“These are my friends, Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby,” Julie introduced. “They’re a band called Sunset Curve, and they wanted to do something special for you today.”

She looked back at Luke and gave him a nod. He began strumming the intro to Your Song by Elton John and happy tears immediately welled in Rose’s eyes. She looked at her daughter and pride emanated from her being.

“It’s a little bit funny, these feelings inside,” Luke sang. “I’m not one of those who can easily hide….” 

Each of them continued to join in as Ray, Julie and Carlos all took turns embracing Rose. She whispered things to them in Spanish and kissed each of their heads, keeping hold of Ray’s hand as the boys continued playing. She couldn’t sing along as she wished, but she mouthed the words to every single song they played. The boys played for only an hour, but it felt like its own little bubble of time. Alex didn’t want to leave by the time it was over.

They had saved Yellow Submarine for last, and it came as a suckerpunch. Even though the song was supposed to be silly and Carlos was doing all the echoes at the end, they could all feel the undercurrent of grief wash through. The words became a metaphor for some fantastical land where nothing was wrong - where Rose was healthy, where each of their lives were fixed, where Willie was with them - a land of simplicity that didn’t exist. But they had created a moment in that tiny hospital room that felt so close to it, and they could all tell.

Alex felt strange that while everyone else had tears in their eyes at this point, he remained dry. He was moved, of course. There was something about meeting Julie’s family and doing this little performance that made him feel warmth greater than anything he’d known in his whole life. It made him wonder what was wrong with him. He watched as Reggie, who was a sniffling mess, tried to comfort a slightly tearful Bobby (which was a rare sight in itself). Luke wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulders, smiling even with glistening eyes. For what it was worth, the guys made him feel at home and he knew he’d been a part of this just as much as them.

As everyone said their goodbyes back in the waiting room, Julie held out her arms and all the guys came to her at once in a giant group hug.

“You guys, I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” she said, words saturated with gratitude. “I will never forget this. My mom will never forget this.”

They all squeezed tightly before letting go. Luke and Julie’s hands took just a little too long to separate as she followed her dad and brother out of the hospital. Sighing wistfully, Luke watched her go until she was out of sight completely. The image of Willie skating along the street crossed Alex’s mind in a rueful memory. He was definitely going to hammer it out on his drums when he got home.

“Alright, boys,” Luke was saying. “Let’s head out.”

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 1

Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,500

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Eventual Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: The teeniest bit of swearing, slight food mention, Remus is mentioned briefly

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Summary: “Oh shut up,” he grumbled to it as he turned off the alarm before checking the date and sighing lowly.

It was exactly the day he had been thinking. The first day of school.

(Don’t miss the notes I have at the end of this post if you’d like to hear some additional details! There is a prologue to this story by the way, be sure to check it out!)

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The alarm blared loudly from across Virgil’s room. He tried hard to the best of his abilities to ignore it but he did make it loud for a reason.

One of those reasons being that he knew himself well enough to know that he would ignore it if he could and shut it off and go back to bed if he couldn’t. Going across the room to get it had always proved to have a higher chance of success in his experience so he had gone for that option last night.

The second reason though was because of today. Virgil shot up upon remembering and went over to his phone charging across his room, squinting at the screen.

“Oh shut up,” he grumbled to it as he turned off the alarm before checking the date and sighing lowly.

It was exactly the day he had been thinking. The first day of school.

The first day of high school in fact, the event of the decade that he and Roman had been waiting for in anticipation. Well, that was being generous but either way, they were both anticipating it for different reasons as they always seemed to do.

Virgil was not thrilled at the prospect of a new school. He would be required to learn a new campus, new classrooms, new classmates, and new teachers. Within the first week, he knew he’d be accustomed to at least the rooms for his classes but the other ones could take some getting used to. He knew that either way, he wasn’t going to get along with a majority of his classmates and he’d be too nervous to get to know any teachers or do much more than answer the occasional question or take role until they’d learned their students’ names. The campus was another issue too. Where would he be waiting in the morning? Where would he eat lunch? Did he and Roman even have the same brunch schedule? How was he getting home again? What time did his day end?

After shooting a text to Roman about one of those questions, namely in terms of the schedule, he got ready. After pulling his hoodie on over his head, he brushed a hand through his bangs to push them back before frowning at his reflection, letting them fall over his face again. He didn’t look better per say but he could see less which was always a plus in situations he was dreading. His mom had come in at some point to make sure he had actually gotten up and he was out of the house with his backpack and phone as soon as Roman bounded up his driveway.

“Virgil, it’s finally happening!” his best friend squealed, linking their arms as Virgil was tugged along down the route to their new school. “Finally, we’re high schoolers now, can you believe it?”

Virgil snorted, feeling a weight lift off his chest. One of them at least. “Can I believe it? Yeah. Do I want to? Hell no,” he muttered out with an edge of grumpiness to his voice only to have Roman laugh.

“I promise that I’ll be with you as much as I can the whole day! We’re going to have brunch and lunch together too and then I’ll take you over to my place after school!” Roman explained. He honestly made it sound so simple but really, he usually did. It even usually was, at least when Roman told him so. He just always knew how to make awful situations... easier.

“Eh, I guess I’ll take it. Though I’ve gotten a horrible end of the deal for compensation,” Virgil jeered a little, laughing to himself as Roman gasped and shoved him with an obvious smile.

“Shut up, you love me and you know it!”

Virgil’s smile came easily as they kept walking. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say,” he snorted.

Roman talked about theater, asking what productions Virgil thought they should put on, how he hoped to get some good roles this year, and then listed off some of his personal favorite musicals that he hoped he’d get to do at some point. Virgil filled in the gaps and spaces of the conversations and Roman did the rest. It was comfortable, it didn’t seem like this year would feel so bad now with things going just as they always had.

The day started off pretty alright honestly, much better than Virgil would’ve expected. Luckily he’d done a walkthrough of his schedule during registration so he knew vaguely where to go and he made it to his second period class early.

A lot of them were standard class introductions, icebreakers, and syllabuses. It seemed like exactly what he was used to in junior high, just at a different school. Some of his classes seemed pretty boring but he knew he didn’t have much of an option on the basic ones he had to take. He texted Roman between classes to see how he was fairing. He wasn’t very surprised that it was going off without a hitch.

It was a relief by the time that Virgil got to his English class right before lunch, the one class he and Roman shared together. Roman rushed in right as the bell rang and collapsed into the seat next to him, breathing out with a smile.

“Cutting it close, huh?” Virgil whispered.

“Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied,” Roman merely offered as explanation before the teacher got up and started talking, cutting their conversation short.

“Man, I am so excited for theater today! I can already tell it’s going to be so amazing!” Roman chattered excitedly as they walked out of English, making their way over to one of the more secluded areas of the campus Virgil had been able to find, setting up to eat lunch.

“Yeah, totally didn’t see that coming,” Virgil said with a slight shake of his head, smirking a bit. “It’s not like you’ve been talking about it all day. Oh wait! You have.”

“Alright alright so I will admit that I might be a little more excited than one would expect!” Roman relented, shrugging. “But! It’s just so amazing, I got into 7th period theater, Virge! I’m going to be in the actual productions!! That’s a big deal for a freshman, usually people don’t make it until maybe sophomore year, you know?”

“Well the director would’ve been an idiot if he didn’t want to put you in them, yeah? I think so anyways,” Virgil said as he took out his sketchbook.

“I suppose but still, I’m just...” Roman laughed to himself, bouncing in place. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to meet all the new people there,” he giggled.

Virgil nodded, starting a sketch of Roman which Roman immediately posed for, knowing the drill.

“Soooo, have you met anyone interesting today?” Roman asked as Virgil was working out the shape of Roman’s nose, their eyes making contact for a second before Virgil was back to sketching.

“Nah, not really. Though somebody just kinda... Gave me a cookie during art. He said I looked like I needed it. He’s my table partner now so there’s that, you know?” Virgil said with a shrug. “He’s pretty cool I guess. Liked one of my drawings of you.”

“And you didn’t strike up a conversation? C’mon Virgil, you could be set on baked goods and a person with great taste for the rest of your life!” Roman exclaimed, shifting out of position as he threw his arms out to which Virgil gave a half-hearted glare.

“You’re dumber than I gave you credit for if you believe I can talk to people.”

“Well I may be dumb but I take it with pride like a Prince should!”

“Your brother is the smarter of the two of you,” Virgil mused.

Roman pouted. “He is not!”

“Pretty sure he is,” Virgil hummed out.

As the two conversed a little more, Virgil didn’t feel up to eating anything.

Lunch ended and the day finished up with Virgil waiting outside the auditorium for Roman to be done with theater. The two walked home with Roman going on and on about the rest of his day, telling him about all the people he had met and all the things that he had gotten up to. Apparently there was already some idea of what the fall play would be so Roman talked about it at length.

“But seriously Virgil, it was so nice of them! Two of the juniors gave me a card to welcome me, it had my name on it and everything, I can’t wait!”

Virgil merely nodded as Roman continued.

Virgil didn’t have much to say at that point, just letting Roman keep going. Virgil just listened on, focusing silently on his best friend as they made their way home.

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A/N: Hey hey hey guys, here is the first official chapter of Prom Queen! I don’t have an especially strict schedule for this story but I do try to post every other day and it works out fairly well! I’ll try not to make it be more than a couple weeks between chapters but life might get funky so if anything happens, I’ll try my best to handle it and get more chapters out!

That being said, I hope you are enjoying the story and are excited for future chapters! Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglists, either this one or my writing/art taglists in general and I’ll catch you guys next time!

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Taglist: @spookijam, @its-the-cat-queen, @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars

[soupfiction]

The Discovery of the Chamber of Secrets

A/N: I wrote this for my creative writing class and figured I’d post it here!

Synopsis: After the discovery of his lineage, Tom Riddle searches for the entrance of the infamous Chamber of Secrets.

Word Count: 2.8K

Tom Riddle’s POV

Horace Slughorn was everything I disliked about a person. Incompetent, overly cheerful, and above all, hopelessly vain.

He was an aged man with more strands of greying hair than ounces of wit, and yet he seemed completely oblivious to how faux his personality came off as—especially right now.

A dark brown suit covered his out of shape body, the seams of it stretched thin to compensate a large stomach that pressed up against the dark, wooden table next to me. His scraggly eyebrows were raised until his eyelids sat unnaturally high over his bloodshot, darting eyes. ”Merlin, Tom!” He praised, wrinkled hand slapping my shoulder. “Good job!”

I feigned a smile, resisting the urge to move out from under his overly warm palm. “All thanks to your teaching, of course, Professor,” I reply. It was a false statement, as most were in response to such a man. The task of producing a top-grade anti-paralysis potion was as simple as sleeping. I did not require watered down teaching to make one.

He, as always, remained unaware to the sarcasm that underlined each word, announcing, “Ten points to Slytherin!” With slow movements, he removed his hand from off of my uniform and grabbed the silver cauldron, raising it up and turning around to face the rest of the class. “This is quite the example of an anti-paralysis potion! Excellent work, truly. Gather around, yes, come and see how precise the amber color is to my own!”

Both Slytherins and Gryffindors dragged their feet closer and closer until they all grouped together, peaking over each other’s heads to see the swirling contents inside the cauldron. I raised from my own seat, coming to tower next to Slughorn. My classmates faces ranged from confusion to amazement; from envy to awe. I suppressed a chuckle that rose from my chest, instead letting it show in the form of a tight-lipped smirk.

Of course, I was the only one to successfully produce the potion. It was no surprise when they all mimicked the Potions professor in incompetence.

After a few excruciating minutes of Slughorn mewling over the complexity of what I would refer to as a simple concoction, the class was set free.

A flew of red, black and green rushed out the heavy door, but I lingered behind. I grabbed hold of my wand, twirling it around a couple of times before approaching Slughorn, who was still marveling periodically between my own potion and his.

“Professor,” I say, watching him jump slightly. He hadn’t known I was even here, the fool. “I have a question for you.”

“Of course, Tom! What can I do for you?” From behind his desk, straightens his spine as much as he can, but he has gained a hunch over the years of teaching.

I lean against the potions cabinet that sets just to the left of the front of his desk, pocketing my wand in the sleeve of my robes. “I’ve heard a rumor. Just talk, of course, but I’ve came to seek your knowledge on something.” I pause momentarily, searching his face for any hints that might point to his knowing of what I was going to ask. “Have you heard of The Chamber of Secrets?”

His confident façade crumbles. Nervousness seeps through the cracks, and I keep my face straight despite this clear confirmation of my suspicions. Of all the professors, he was the most likely to succumb to questioning, especially from a student he so dearly approved of. But he was also annoyingly close to Dumbledore.

Anything Dumbledore knew about me…he was likely to tell Slughorn, which meant the old oaf could know of my lineage, and of my ties to the supposed chamber that Salazar Slytherin had built. If he was aware, he might try to hold back valuable information—stuff that I couldn’t locate in any book in the Hogwarts library. I had to hear it from him, or else I might be rid of this horrid school before I actually find it.

Just as I thought, Slughorn fumbled, blubbering out, “My, Tom! That’s such an old rumor. I can’t possibly—give you anything you surely don’t already know!” A poor excuse. He would never willingly stop talking unless he truly had something to hide.

“I know it’s a silly thought,” I press, “something of that…power could never be hidden from such talented professors as yourselves.” I let him simmer in the compliment for a moment before continuing. “Yet, I cannot help worrying for those who think it is real. They could get hurt searching after a rumor, and I want to do my best to educate them so that they won’t find harm.”

Truthfully, any talk of the Chamber was nonexistent, to my dismay. Even the students, as insatiably curious as they are, steered clear of the idea. To most, Salazar’s ideas of blood purity was a taboo—something to be avoided even at the cost of filth entering the school. It seemed even the head of the house of Slytherin was indoctrinated with these pathetic views.

“Who could possibly be interested in such a thing?” Slughorn nervously laughs, busying himself by organizing the already put together papers on his desk.

I cross my arms over my chest and sigh out, “I don’t want to put suspicion on anyone, Professor, but I heard Rubeus Hagrid was asking around about the Chamber. I just want to ensure I’m educated so that I can properly deal with the situation. Us students should help each other, especially when one of us threatens the ideals of this school.”

My words seem to be working as he stops his frantic hand movements and stands up as tall as he can. Dismay is evident on his features. “I will have to report this, you know. We can’t have a student speaking of such—things.” Eyes the color of gooseberry meet my own. I can see the broken veins in his worn eyes from here. “But, if you really wish to help, I suppose I could tell you all that I know.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I reply, letting false concern intertwine with my speech.

He gives a small smile. “Promise me that if this continues, you will tell me about it, won’t you, Tom?”

I nod. “Of course.”

Slughorn goes on to explain a basic history of Salazar Slytherin’s whereabouts and actions. It was stuff I already knew, but I listen intently, dissecting each sentence for a clue as to where the entrance could be located. I’ve already deducted that it wasn’t in the Slytherin common room as I’ve combed over every inch of it by now.

I’m beginning to think he knows less than I originally thought when he says, “—disapproval of their previous agreement. Nevertheless, it is said that he built something below the dungeons, where we are, to ensure that, one day, his ideas would be…both shared and continued.”

I can’t help but to stop him, asking, “Right below here? Surely we would know if that were to be true.”

He lets out a boisterous laugh, nodding. “That’s true. Yet even our dear Dumbledore used to suspect it as true. He was worried during construction that something might be revealed! To think, after all these years, the head professor still hasn’t discovered all there is to Hogwarts.”

That’s it! I feel the corners of my lips twitching upwards, and I force them down.

The old fool seems to realize his mistake immediately. “Of course, that was quickly disproven!” He squawks.

It’s obvious he knows something about me. The hurried pace of his words and fidgeting tells me as much, but he’s either too stupid or too uninformed to realize that he shouldn’t have told me any of this. There’s a reason it was kept out any wizarding book accessible to the students. Too bad for Dumbledore that one of his own is too useless to keep such information to themself.

I hold a pale hand up. His eyes are drawn to the movement, and he immediately stops his nervous twitching. “It’s okay,” I lament. “I’m sorry to have brought this up…forgive me. I understand it’s all hearsay, I just do not want anyone hurt over it.”

He needs to think that I believe this is all false. If he doesn’t, I fear he might ramble about our little conversation to Dumbledore. Even if he doesn’t know everything about me, he clearly knows enough to get on edge at the mere topic. I don’t need the headmaster trailing me when I’m so close to fixing this schools problem.

“It’s quite alright, Tom!” He waves five chubby fingers around in the air as if dismissing any worry. “As you said, it’s all rumors! I’m glad to have such a brilliant student as yourself on the case. In any scenario, though, I must still notify Dumbledore of these things…I trust that any curious student would listen to him!”

I nearly scoff. If anyone was as brilliant as the old man thinks then they’d ignore Dumbledore, just as I have. He was no more a wizard than Slughorn was. Still, I nod in what he thinks is agreement.

That seems to squash any reminisce of worry. Just as usual, he beams with crooked teeth at the mere sight of my approval. Pitiful.

Before he can go on, I push off from the potions cabinet and announce, “I regret to inform you, but I must be on my way now. An astronomy parchment has been calling my name for quite some time.” There was no work I could not get done in whatever allotted time was allowed, but Slughorn was not aware of that. Besides, I had to get a head start before he decides to waddle his way up to the headmaster.

After he squalls out his goodbyes, stretching out the conversation as much as he can, I take my leave, rounding past the door with a flutter of my robes behind me.

I have done ample amount of research on the history of this Merlin forsaken school to know exactly what has been done in the past years—which was not much. A couple of repairs due to idiotic accidents by lesser students, mostly, but one thing that sticks out is the construction of the girl’s bathroom a few years back.

It’s the one located directly above the great hall, and one of the less used ones. It is prominent in my mind because, as far as I know, there was no need for the repairs done. Nothing was listed out as to why exactly they’d need to work on it, plus, the other restrooms seem to need more attention than one that was and is barely ever used.

So, that’s where I head. My walk is quicker than usual but contained. Every passing moment is another chance for Slughorn to tell Dumbledore everything, however I have to act as if everything is normal. I can’t raise suspicion now.

In a couple excruciating minutes, I arrive at a halt in front of the wooden door of the restroom. A group of Hufflepuffs passed me by a little bit ago, but now no one is in sight. I can only hope that no girl lingers in the bathroom as I glance around before quickly entering the room.

The bright rays of the sun beam in through the quarter round windows. Wooden stalls line both of the walls, all of the swinging doors wide open. To the far side of the area are the sinks. Polished ivory and stone glow in the light like a beacon. I find myself gravitating towards them, wholly skipping past the other half of the bathroom.

I run my hand over the grey stone, then over the white of the ivory. It’s as if magic is radiating off of it. My fingers are buzzing with it as they slide over to a particular tap on one of the sinks. It’s as the others are at first glance, but as I lean over to inspect it I notice an engraving on it.

A snake.

I brush my fingertips over it once, twice, then grin. Slughorn has no idea what he’s done. Now I can do exactly what Salazar Slytherin has intended.

My mouth opens as if on command. “Open,” I say. They are not words, instead a hiss of parseltongue.

If there were any doubt of my lineage, they instantly fall away as something shifts from inside the sink. Rock rumbles against rock, sliding and moving until the sink disappears, leaving a dark opening in its wake.

A descending tunnel of stone winds down into the darkness. I do not think twice before stepping into it. A loud click follows me into the pathway, the light from the bathroom cut off by the tunnel closing. The air is stale and thick to breathe in. My polished shoes step down slowly, pebbles sliding underneath and trickling down the pathway ahead of me.

It is not long before everything opens up into a cave. Stalagmites connect from the floor to the ceiling like teeth of a mouth. A particularly large one hangs down beside me as I walk to a large circular door that is centered on a rock wall in front of me.

It is as wide as it is tall. Although I am nearly six feet, it towers over me with ease. Engraved on it is seven snakes; each of them are combined on the left, only to disconnect into separate snakes that each turn a different direction. I marvel at it for only a moment, aware of the dwindling time frame that hangs above my head.

Soon, Slughorn would tell Dumbledore and surely he would seek me out. I could not be here when he searches.

Familiarity tugs at me like before, and I hiss, “Open up.”. Immediately, another stone snake begins to slither around the edges, the other stone reptiles receding as it passes. Soon, the door clicks and begins to open outward. I take a step back, watching as the thick rock reveals another smaller tunnel dipped in a dim, green light. This time, though, I am able to see past it.

A pathway of stone stretches out before me. Gigantic statues of snakes with open mouths and glaring fangs line the pathway on each side, each as menacing as the next. The taps of my shoes on the rock are the only noise as I continue on, staring ahead at something I have only dreamed of seeing.

Chiseled onto the far wall is the face of Salazar Slytherin. It is impressively detailed; lines mark just below a bald head showing his age and tendrils of a beard climb on the wall below and on either side of him. Stone lips are closed below a mustache, until they aren’t.

They open with a great rumbling. It shakes the floor below me as they widen, revealing a dark hole. From inside a loud hiss could be heard. It echoed around the chamber as goosebumps rose up on my skin.

I knew what it had to be. It was no surprised one lurked in Salazar’s hall, as the Basilisk had been notoriously bred by dark wizards. However, no reading could prepare for the absolute size of the beast as it slithered out into the feeble light.

It was ginormous and easily dwarfed the size of the snake statues. Dark green scales flashed in the light as it approached, sending out shimmering rays into the air. Large, yellow eyes stared ahead, and I knew enough not to look back. I set my eyes on its body, instead.

Only meters away, it raised up. Its underbelly was a slightly lighter shade of green with the same glistening scales. Something from within seemed to be awoken in its presence. My hands raised upwards, palms facing the great snake.

“You’re mine,” I state, voice confident but breathless. I knew the creature would not harm me. It was Salazar Slytherins, that I was confident of, and I was his descendant. It would be as loyal to me as it was to him.

And together we would show this school the true power of magic. One that was not tainted with the blood of muggles.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

35. “Why are you looking at me like that” i want to see what you do with this one

Anon, give me free reign, and I will return with some of the nichest interests to fandom. Another sourdough starter! This is for a time-travel AU with Yoichi/Sorahiko (Yoihiko) for end-game. Sorahiko's canon is set after Nana dies, and before Toshinori heads to the States.

//

So Sorahiko got punched some thirty-plus years into the past.

Fine. Typical One for All bullshit.

(He is going to punch Toshinori so hard if he ever gets back to the present. Regardless of how much Gran Torino deserved a humbling, Sorahiko did not sign up for this.)

It’s a nightmare of a time period, especially because pro-heroes aren’t exactly a concept yet. Sorahiko is unlucky enough to be picked up by some kind of guerrilla faction, and even more unlucky when he finds out they are connected to All for One. Not in a friendly way, mind.

The leader of the resistance and his right-hand man interfered before Sorahiko could be summarily interrogated and killed. To be fair to the guerrilla faction, Sorahiko had been shooting his mouth off left and right, because this whole situation was awful, and he wasn’t shy about taking his frustration out on assholes.

Things that alarmed them: his gear, his hair, and his unheard-of Quirk.

“Are you related to Shigaraki?” the leader had asked, suspicion written all over his face.

“Who the hell is Shigaraki,” Sorahiko had answered, eyeing the leader’s gauntlets.

Talks are, believe it or not, uphill from there. Once Sorahiko is confirmed to be thoroughly, passionately agreeable to using violence against All for One, he is more or less folded into the resistance. And before long, the resistance launches an all-out assault on All for One’s base.

Gran Torino is mercilessly placed on the front lines, nearly shoulder to shoulder with the leader (determinedly nameless) and his right-hand man (Sanjuro Yojimbo).

“Easier ways to take me out of the game,” says Sorahiko, checking the suction seals of his gloves. He grimaces at the loosening fit; although his time hadn’t been the best with the daily grind of patrol - villain - paperwork, its miserable characteristics did not hold a candle to the present.

These are lean times.

“Gran Torino, you’re the one who wanted to wear your shining beacon of a costume,” says Sanjuro. The man adjusts his bandana, fussing with fraying seams.

“I wasn’t going to repaint my gloves and boots.”

“And now you’ll attract all sorts of attention,” sighs the leader. The three of them are sharing one last quiet moment, staring at the hastily-scrawled map Sorahiko managed to draw up. Honestly, he has no idea if the resistance would have managed this fight without his help.

They certainly aren’t in any records.

“Sure you won’t tell me your name?” Sorahiko needles. “Dead man’s request.”

“As you like to remind us, it’s hard to kill you,” the leader says. He folds the map into squares, slides it into his jacket, and cracks his neck from side to side. “Send the signal.”

A red flare shoots up into the sky.

Gran Torino, as the fastest, hurtles himself over the gates and dodges the first slew of projectile Quirks. Nothing particularly dangerous, nothing tricky. However much All for One is in his prime, the Quirks of this era are… lacking in potency.

That, or All for One has already snatched the strongest of them up.

He supposes the real nightmare is that All for One’s followers are simply that. Followers, willing to do what the man wants, in broad daylight. Vicious, vindictive, villainous. The civilians can’t fight back, because the ban on public Quirk usage affects them the hardest. The government flounders, still is floundering by the time Gran Torino had hit the streets, so… it makes sense that this resistance appeared to fill the gap.

His entrance into the building is preceded by an unconscious woman’s body, thrown through a window. Presumably, the leader’s gauntlets will blow open the front doors, but once Gran Torino is on the move, he tries not to stop.

“Get him!”

“What the hell is he wearing?”

Gran Torino kicks that commenter in the face. He moves on. One, two, five, ten--there are more guards than he anticipated. Further down: a stairway, a hallway, a large heavy door with a spinning handle attached.

Despite knowing of the smart thing to do (wait for reinforcements), Gran Torino sets on to open this door.

It does not turn easy. But it does turn, and the door does open.

He shoves it, steadies his footing, and braces himself for a surprise attack. The light from the hallway floods into a dark room, and Sorahiko can barely discern a cowering figure on the floor, pale-haired and green-eyed.

“N-nii-san?”

Sorahiko blanches as the sound of an explosion shakes the floor above. He knows of very few people with hair like theirs, and this trembling voice does not sound like All for One. Stumbling back so his shadow doesn’t fall over the other man’s, Sorahiko has a crazy thought: whoever this relative of All for One is, he looks--kind.

“You’re not my brother,” says the man, green eyes going wide. “You--”

“Do you want out?” Gran Torino demands.

“I…”

“This estate is being attacked,” he says, trying to pick his words carefully. Shimura was always better at reassuring terrified civilians, or de-escalating emotional spirals on the verge of a panic attack. “If you need help, then… the people I’m with can provide it.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

Gran Torino exhales, sharp, and stalks into the vault. The man stays on the floor, staring up and up, except his eyes hold less fear and more fascination. They follow Gran Torino as he crouches, and then they skitter to gaze at the outstretched hand.

“I don’t need to know who you are,” Sorahiko says. “I wasn’t sent here to find you. All I know is that you’ve been trapped in this room, guarded by more goons than feasible for a hallway patrol.” He tilts his head. “Makes for easy lines of attack, I gotta say.”

“... Your Quirk?”

“Trade secret,” says Sorahiko simply. He wiggles his fingers. “This is an offer. Get out of jail free card, you could say.”

The man hesitates, but he reaches back, thin fingers ever smaller against the size of Gran Torino’s glove. They curl into a surprisingly strong grip as Gran Torino levers them back up.

“Can you run?”

“I’m not in the best of shape,” says the man, sheepish.

He considers his options. Escorting a malnourished unarmed civilian will turn them both into sitting ducks. Carrying him? That’s doable. It may also deter Sanjuro and the leader from automatically killing the man.

“Ever get motion sickness?”

“Never had the opportunity.”

Gran Torino nods and says, “I can carry you. In my arms or over my shoulder, pick your poison.” Upon seeing the flustered expression bloom, Sorahiko rolls his eyes. The man won’t see; the lenses are opaque. “If it helps, it will be faster if you’re in my arms. I can compensate for the extra weight easier.”

Not that you look like you weigh much, Sorahiko adds silently.

“Whatever works,” says the man, faint, and Gran Torino hooks one twiggy arm around his much broader shoulders and scoops him up off the floor by the knees. He’s right. The man doesn’t weigh much at all. Fingers curl in, grabbing a handful of his cape.

“This’ll work,” he confirms, and turns smartly on his heel to exit the vault. Before Gran Torino reenters the hallway, he stops and warns, “Bodies up ahead.”

The fingers tighten. “You killed them?” the man asks woodenly.

“Mine will wake up with a severe migraine.”

“Ah.”

That’s about as much as Gran Torino’s willing to throw his comrades under the bus. He forges on into the light, picking his way past the fallen unconscious bodies. Being in the past has turned him more cutthroat, but… he’s been hardwired to perform swift knock-outs. For most wannabe villains, getting kicked unconscious once is embarrassing enough to turn them onto milder paths.

Better a shoplifter than a mugger, in Gran Torino’s eyes.

These ‘guards’ had been pretty pathetic. Supposing the resistance doesn’t send a ‘clean-up’ squad, the idiots might be able to turn over a new leaf.

He would use Jet, but the hallway is kind of tight. So Gran Torino is stuck walking until he reaches the stairs, and he tries not to jostle his passenger. This effort does not go unrecognized, a fact Sorahiko realizes when he glances down to check in.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, unsettled by the shining green irises.

It looks uncannily like when Toshinori actually respected Gran Torino, instead of hating him to the point of sending him far into the past.

“You’re a hero,” the man whispers, almost giddy with the naming. “You’ve got to be.”

Sorahiko bites the inside of his cheek. His face feels too warm, a fact that he will have to blame on the floor being heavily insulated. Slowly, to better communicate a disbelief that he doesn’t actually feel, Sorahiko says, “And what makes you think that?”

“Your suit. The cape. A refraining from meting out ‘righteous justice.’” The man layers the sarcasm thick on the last two words, like he’s quoting some egotistical asshole.

“Some villains make the cut,” mutters Gran Torino.

“Exceptions to the rule?”

They’re at the bottom of the staircase. Sorahiko can hear the resistance wrecking shop upstairs, and he is keenly aware that he will be entering the fray with another man in his arms, in a one-person lift more commonly associated with bridal carries.

“When a villain promises to destroy your whole world,” he says, “when they already have destroyed a crucial part of it, with no remorse, no intention to atone... I think…”

This is hardly the time to indulge his grieving heart.

Nevertheless, the man presses his hand against Sorahiko’s chest. Sorahiko, startled, meets those fascinated, fascinating green eyes.

“I hear you,” he says, quiet in his empathy. A quick breath. “My name is Shigaraki Yoichi. It’s nice to meet you…?”

Sorahiko swallows past his trepidation.

“Call me Gran Torino, Yoichi-san,” he says.

[butterflies-dragons]

Hey! There was a giant lemon cake with phallic image in alayne chapter. Do you think it some coincidence or it means something? Especially it's presented by petyr. Also Sansa and her enemies giving her lemoncakes give same vibes as Hansel&gretel story.

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

Petyr Baelish is grooming Sansa, that’s the awful truth. And he has studied Sansa, he knows what she likes/wants and he will use that knowledge in his favor.

He knows she had a distant relationship with Ned, so he becomes Alayne’s father.

He knows that Ned neglected her and that she always craved for her father’s validation, so he gives her that, he praised her wits for example, and called her clever and smart. 

If Sansa says something like “I can’t” or “I don’t know”, he is there to encourage and support and tell her “you can do it” & “you know it”.  

He knows she loves knights and tourneys, so he allows her to organize a tournament, whose winners will belong to a kind of “Kingsguard” for Sweetrobin, based on the child’s favorite hero of the legends: The Winged Knight, Ser Artys Arryn.

He knows she loves lemon cakes, so he gives her a giant lemon cake.    

The Tyrells has used the same strategy:

"Sansa," Lady Alerie broke in, "you must be very hungry. Shall we have a bite of boar together, and some lemon cakes?"

"Lemon cakes are my favorite," Sansa admitted.

"So we have been told," declared Lady Olenna, who obviously had no intention of being hushed. "That Varys creature seemed to think we should be grateful for the information. I've never been quite sure what the point of a eunuch is, if truth be told. It seems to me they're only men with the useful bits cut off. Alerie, will you have them bring the food, or do you mean to starve me to death? Here, Sansa, sit here next to me, I'm much less boring than these others. I hope that you're fond of fools."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

We all know how much Sansa loves her lemon cakes, but the Tyrells and Littlefinger really treat her as if she were a child like Sweetrobin:

"Will they be lemon cakes?" Lord Robert loved lemon cakes, perhaps because Alayne did.

"Lemony lemony lemon cakes," she assured him, "and you can have as many as you like."

"A hundred?" he wanted to know. "Could I have a hundred?"

"If it please you." She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair. He does have pretty hair. Lady Lysa had brushed it herself every night, and cut it when it wanted cutting. After she had fallen Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so Petyr had commanded that his hair be allowed to grow. Alayne wound a lock around her finger, and said, "Now, will you get out of bed and let us dress you?"

"I want a hundred lemon cakes and five tales!"

I'd like to give you a hundred spankings and five slaps. You would not dare behave like this if Petyr were here. The little lord had a good healthy fear of his stepfather. Alayne forced a smile. "As my lord desires. But nothing till you're washed and dressed and on your way. Come, before the morning's gone." She took him firmly by the hand, and drew him out of bed.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

The lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance

The Giant's Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon within the Vale of Arryn, extending three and a half miles above the the valley below.

The great-grandfather of Petyr Baelish was a Braavosi sellsword that came into the Vale of Arryn at the service of Lord Corbray. His line was continued by his son, who became a hedge knight and took the head of the Titan of Braavos as his sigil.

As I mentioned in this post, a sword, Ice in particular, works as a phallic symbol in Sansa’s chapters. 

So, we can also make this association:

The Titan of Braavos = A Giant

The Giant’s Lance = Tallest Peak

Lance & Peak = phallic symbols 

Lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance = I don’t want to write it 

We can also say that Petyr Baelish is “compensating” his “shortfalls”, after all he is a short man called Littlefinger.  

Yes, I think this giant lemon cake could be seen as a phallic symbol and it makes sense with Littlefinger grooming her... yikes

¡¡¡SOMEONE SAVE HER PLEASE!!!   

My friend @lostlittlesatellites has already wrote about these subjects, giant lemon cake as phallic symbol and Hansel and Gretel story: 

I argued that lemon cakes in Sansa’s arc actually spell people trying to exploit Sansa’s weakness in an almost Hansel & Gretel way and a betrayal that follows.

“Interestingly Sansa’s first chapter in AGOT poses questions that will drive majority of her arc. Her desire for a courtly life in the South will not only prove to be hollow but worse a dream that turns into nightmare. Sansa asks two questions: “What could you want to see? It’s just fields and farms and holdfasts” and “Why would you want to ride a smelly old horse and get all sore and sweaty when you could recline on feather pillows and eat cakes with the queen?”

The world is larger than Sansa has been taught to believe, reclining more inward into her dreams with the strict regime that she taught to look away from the window. She doesn’t think she is prepared enough and that she needs more training. Yes, she doesn’t know enough but neither does Arya or Bran or Jon. Having Sansa finally leave her cage after completing her tutelage under Littlefinger is continuing that student-teacher dynamic she has had since Septa Mordane. People come to love the security of the cage they live in too long. This is why it takes so long to take out the fear of the outside from Sansa because the fact that she has barely any experience keeps her thinking she needs someone to rely on.

[…]

The “Feather pillows and cakes with the queen” part represents the glamour that attracts little boys and girls like Sansa. However, it is hollow as Sansa comes to realise about many things. In fact, people offering Sansa lemon cakes in Sansa’s storyline often forebodes a betrayal from the person offering it. Cersei offers her lemon cakes and a few chapters later she has Lady executed and even later, she has Ned arrested. Olenna offers Sansa lemon cakes, which Varys offers as valuable information to bring her guard down in order to lure her into her trap of marrying her to Wilas and getting hold of Winterfell and the North. They have her wear the murder weapon, which could implicate her for Joffrey’s murder even if their target is Tyrion. Littlefinger is offering her a 12 foot phallic shaped lemon cake in Sansa’s TWOW chapter. Given how happy Sansa is in this chapter that she is almost forgetting that she isn’t Alayne, the food is way too lavish when Winter is coming and along with this trend with lemon cakes, the clock is going to strike 12 and the illusion is going to break very soon. Soon Sansa will prefer riding those “smelly horses” and getting sweaty and sore in order to escape over those lemon cakes and feather beds offered by untrustworthy people. For Sansa’s arc to be fulfilling she has to experience the lives of small folk up close before she helps them. As a character whose view range is often myopic, she has to be put in the middle of the lives of the small folk to truly understand them.”

I highly recommend you to check @lostlittlesatellites blog, she’s a great ASOIAF meta writer, you can read more about these subjects here and here. She covered a lot of themes and symbolisms around Sansa in the Vale, some of them very disturbing regarding Littlefinger’s present and future actions against Sansa...   

But despite all that, since GRRM is a writer that likes to give different meanings to a same thing, there are also some very interesting details that are worthy to mention about the real Giant’s Lance:

So lovely. The snow-clad summit of the Giant's Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa's Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well. 

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King.  

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

I can see strong dragon imagery here... 

I already wrote about how Sansa wishing falcon wings could be foreshadowing of her getting dragon wings.  

Here I also listed all the similarities between Jon and Sweetrobin.

But the most interesting detail is that the real Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow. 

Sansa’s Vale arc has a lot of connections with Jon Snow, like this parallel that I called “Children of the Mountains”.

There is also the names of the waycastles Stone (Alayne) and Snow (Jon).

And one of my favorite Jon Snow reference in Sansa’s chapters, the ghost wolf, big as mountains:

All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

So, 

The Giant’s Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon.

The Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow.

Sansa compared those mountains with a giant Ghost Wolf.  

I’m sorry Littlefinger, you can’t touch this girl!

Thanks for your message.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, art-in-the-sunlight!

For @art-in-the-sunlight. I hope you enjoy! Happy holidays :)

*****

Home For Christmas

“Help! Thief!”

Alec and Magnus turn in a synchronized movement at the outburst from a nearby vendor’s stall, finding a seelie pointing after a small figure bolting away from the booth. With barely a glance at his husband, Alec takes off after the figure, trusting Magnus to be at his side. He hadn’t thought to activate his speed rune, hadn’t seen the need for it during a leisurely trip to the Shadow Markets to stock up on Magnus’ potion supplies, but years of training and staying in peak physical shape enables him to quickly gain ground in pursuit of the thief, Magnus’ footsteps ringing out beside his own. Downworlders leap out of their way, recognizing them, and it isn’t long before they’re right on the heels of someone either very short- or very young.

They turn down an alleyway and, as the thief makes to turn the corner, Magnus throws up a shield of blue magic. The figure hits it head on, stumbling back and landing on their butt in a thump, a loaf of bread flying out of their hands, onto the dirty alley.

The person- a kid- Alec realizes with a twist in his heart, recovers quickly, but Alec and Magnus are already in front of them by the time they get back to their feet.

Alec glances over the kid, his stomach aching at what he finds. He can’t tell if the child is a boy or a girl, dressed in baggy clothes, skin smeared with dirt, dark hair in tangles. What he can see is the fear that’s apparent in the wide blue eyes staring back at him. They can’t be older than twelve.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Alec breathes, dropping down into a crouch to appear less intimidating, while still blocking the kid’s path. He’s more worried about the clearly neglected child now than the seelie who’d had one loaf of bread stolen. It takes him back to finding Rafael in a similar state in Brazil and he shudders to think of either of his children- currently safe and warm at Aunt Izzy’s- in this kind of desperation ever again.

The kid wraps dirty hands around themself, looking quickly between Magnus and Alec, likely on the verge of running.

Magnus offers them a soft smile. “You’re not in trouble. Were you hungry?”

The kid nods, glancing at the bread like they might try to pick it up and make off with it again. Before they can, Magnus snaps his fingers and the bread vanishes. “It’s no good now,” the warlock explains. “But we’ll get you some food, whatever you want.”

“Magic,” the child whispers, fingers twitching with red sparks. A warlock- of course.

“That’s right, I’ve got magic like you.”

The kid stares at him until Alec gently clears his throat. “I’m Alec and this is Magnus. We didn’t mean to scare you and we’re going to make sure you get some food, alright?” When there’s no response, Alec continues, “What’s your name?”

“Abigail,” comes a whispered response, fingers still sparking with magic.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Magnus says lightly. “Are you here alone?”

The girl nods, magic vanishing as she tugs at the torn scarf hanging from her shoulders.

“How did you find the Shadow Market?” Alec asks, wondering if she’s escaped from somewhere like Iris’ or if she’d stumbled in from the mundane world.

“The magic,” Abigail answers. “It brought me here. Am I in trouble?”

“No, sweet pea, you’re not in trouble, we just want to help you. Why don’t we go get you some food and maybe a warm drink.”

Abigail’s eyes are still wide and frightened, but she nods. Alec rises to his feet. “What’s your favorite food?”

There’s a moment of pause as the three of them head back towards the stalls. They’re almost back when Abigail speaks again. “Pizza.”

“Delicious,” Magnus agrees. “What kind?”

“Um… cheese?” She sounds uncertain and Alec exchanges a look with his husband.

Magnus smiles sadly. “Why don’t you apologize to Shelly and then we’ll sit down and eat some pizza, okay?”

“Shelly?”

Magnus nods towards the stall where the seelie is watching them with arms crossed over her chest. Alec wants to step between her and Abigail, wants to block the child from the seelie’s harsh gaze. Abigail shrinks back. “Do I have to?”

“I already paid her back for the bread, she isn’t going to hurt you.”

Abigail nods, brushes back a tangle of hair from her face and squares her shoulders with a seriousness no child should know, before marching like a soldier going to war. Magnus and Alec follow her back to the booth where she looks up at the seelie. “I’m sorry.”

Shelly goes to open her mouth and Alec can feel the seething response before it comes so he hurries to glare, letting a hand hover protectively over the child’s shoulder. “You’ve been compensated and we’ll make sure she doesn’t take anything else.”

The seelie huffs. “Fine, go away, you’re scaring my customers.”

Alec resists the urge to roll his eyes as they turn and follow Magnus down the road to where it spills into a park-like space, complete with several wooden picnic tables. Magnus finds an empty one and slides onto the bench on one side. Alec sits beside him, letting Abigail take the bench on the other side, watching the way her magic begins to cut grooves in the surface of the wooden tabletop.

Magnus waves a hand and a cheese pizza on a paper plate appears in front of the girl. A steaming mug appears next to it a moment later. “Hot cocoa?”

She blinks at him. “What?”

“Hot chocolate,” Magnus clarifies, nodding to the drink.

Abigail eyes it with distrust, but slides it closer to sip from it. Her eyes go wide with something other than fear and Alec’s heart clenches in his chest. “I love it!” She takes a few more sips before turning to devour her pizza.

Alec presses his shoulder to Magnus’, keeping his voice low, “Catarina?”

“Already texted her,” Magnus assures him. Alec feels sufficiently calmer, knowing they’ll figure out what had led Abigail to this state and that they would, quite quickly, fix it. “She’ll come over as soon as she can.”

Alec nods, relieved, before refocusing on Abigail who’s shoveling down the pizza with a ferocity that would be adorable if it weren’t for the severity of the situation. “Abigail, do your parents know where you are?”

She stops eating, sets the pizza down, and rubs her hands together, eyes going to the table. She doesn’t answer.

“It’s okay, if they don’t. Or if you don’t have any,” Alec says gently. “We’re just trying to figure out how to help you.”

“I… I have a mom,” she says quietly. “She doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t get in trouble or use my magic.”

It’s better than it could be, Alec supposes, but negligent parenting is far from ideal. “Well you can use your magic here, no one will be upset if you do.”

“Quite the opposite,” Magnus assures, snapping his fingers and adding a large helping of whipped cream to her hot chocolate. Alec gives him a look, but Magnus shrugs it off. “There are a lot of people here that can help you learn to control it.”

“Like you do?” Abigail asks as she finishes the pizza, wiping her greasy hands on her jacket.

“Exactly. Now that you’ve been fed, what do you say to getting cleaned up? If you’re okay with it, we can show you where we live and get you some clean clothes. You can meet our sons, one of them has magic like us,” Magnus tells her.

Abigail nods eagerly. “Okay!”

Alec feels a little sick, knowing that the girl’s mother had clearly never cared to warn her of strangers, but it helps them now so he forces the emotion down. “Do you want to see what a portal is like? Magnus helped invent them.”

“A portal?” There’s clear awe in her voice as she finishes the hot chocolate and sets the empty cup on the picnic table. “Yes please!”

“To the loft it is!” Magnus announces, moving his hands with exaggerated motions to swirl a portal into existence. “You’ll want to hold my sleeve or Alec’s, so you don’t get lost, alright?”

Abigail glances between them and Alec is about to suggest they walk instead, but then she nods and reaches to curl a small hand into the sleeve of Alec’s jacket, and they’re stepping through the portal.

When they get back to the loft, Magnus summons up some clean clothes for Abigail and while she showers, they discuss what to do. It makes sense to contact her mother, but neither of them is comfortable returning Abigail to the woman’s custody. This leaves them with two options - letting Abigail go with Catarina or letting her stay at the loft.

“I think it should be the boys’ decision,” Magnus says carefully. “To suddenly introduce a new child when they might not get along could be… incisive”

Alec is quick to agree, putting the comfort of their sons first, knowing Abigail will get good care with Catarina even if Alec would prefer to have her stay with them.

“Izzy’s bringing them home soon. We’ll see what they think.”

Alec nods, closing the space between them to rest his head against his husband’s shoulder, murmuring an “I love you” into the warlock’s hair. Magnus’ arms come up to wrap around him and they stay like that in the peaceful quiet of their kitchen until the pitter patter of small feet draws them apart.

Alec turns to find Abigail standing in the doorway, looking sufficiently less despairing. Her skin has been scrubbed clean, still slightly pink from warmth, and she looks adequately bundled in the cozy sweater and jeans Magnus had summoned. Her hair, however, is another matter, still in dark tangles. A brush dangles from her hand. “I couldn’t clean my hair. I tried with magic too, but it just made it worse.” Abigail says quietly, picking at the brush. “So I tried to brush it, but it was too knotted.”

“That’s alright,” Alec says quickly. “I have a younger sister, I used to do her hair all the time, do you want me to wash yours?”

Abigail nods, holding out the brush. Alec herds her back towards the bathroom which Magnus quickly snaps to resemble a salon, allowing Abigail to sit in a comfy chair, hair falling into a basin behind her. Alec works efficiently, careful not to tug at her scalp as he rinses her hair. It’s a long process, but he’d gotten ichor out of Izzy’s hair enough times to be familiar with it. He’s surprised to see Abigail’s hair turning blonde as he cleans it, what he’d thought were dark strands had apparently just been blonde hair so dirty they’d looked brown.

It’s after he’s washed her hair and is putting it up in a braid that Isabelle shows up. Magnus goes to answer the door while Alec finishes the braid. “Rafael and Max are home now, they’re mine and Magnus’ kids and younger than you. They can be a little hyper sometimes, but no one here is going to hurt you, alright?”

Abigail nods as she stands up, fiddling with her braid, but looking measures less afraid than when they’d cornered her. Alec leads her out to the living room where Rafael and Max are sitting cross-legged on the floor, pulling things out of their backpacks. Magnus is watching over them with a fond smile. All of them turn to look when Alec and Abigail step into the room.

“Daddy!” Max trills, leaping to his feet before freezing, expression turning guilty as his eyes go to Magnus. “Sorry.”

“We talked about trying to be a bit calmer tonight,” Magnus informs him quickly. Alec nods, going to pick up his son because, after the day he’s had, he needs the reminder that his own children are okay.

“Max, Rafe, this is Abigail.”

Both boys peek around Alec at the small warlock as she curls in on herself. The adults wait with bated breath.

“A sister?” Max asks, clapping his little blue hands together in excitement. He’d taken to having a brother like a fish took to water and, in the last year, had begun asking for another sibling as if one was as easily as obtained as adopting a puppy. Alec supposes that, for them, that did often appear to be the case.

Alec suppresses  a smile at Max’s enthusiasm. “Not yet, Maxie. Is it okay with you and Rafe if she stays with us for a little while though?”

Rafe nods, still quiet, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. Despite his quietness, he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. Max, on the other hand, looks ecstatic. “She can stay forever,” he says with utter seriousness before walking, extra slowly, to stand in front of Abigail. “I’m Max!”

“You’re blue,” she murmurs, eyes wide.

“I’m a warlock!”

Abigail’s eyes narrow. “What’s a warlock?”

“Magic users,” Magnus quickly steps in. “Max has magic like you and I.”

Max claps and butterflies made of magic explode from his hands, fluttering around him before fading away. Alec barely resists the urge to roll his eyes at Max’s obvious showing off, but Abigail looks intrigued. “Can you show me how to do that?”

“Yeah!” Max nods excitedly. “It’s easy!”

Before Max can launch into a full magic lesson, Magnus intercedes, ruffling the young boy’s hair. “Why don’t you show her your room first?”

“Do you like swords?” Rafe asks, finally speaking up, approaching the other two children. “We have lots of play swords.”

Abigail nods. “I used to play swords with pool noodles.”

“A pool noodle?” Max’s face scrunches in confusion as he leads his older brother and their guest down the hallway to the room he and Rafe share. While Abigail attempts to explain whatever a pool noodle is, their voices drifting off down the hall, Alec turns to his husband and finds the warlock already smiling at him.

“I think they adore her,” Magnus states, stepping closer to wrap his arms around Alec’s waist. Alec returns the hug easily, pressing his face into his husband’s hair.

“They’re never going to let her leave,” Alec agrees, silently adding that he feels the same way. He’s already protective of the young girl and he’s terrified to let her back into whatever situation had led her to this.

Magnus hums in agreement. “I guess this is a good time to ask how you feel about adding another child to our household.”

Alec grins, hearing his own longing echoed in Magnus’ tone, despite the other man’s casual words. “Of course I want her to stay.”

Magnus nuzzles into Alec’s shoulder. “Good. Me too.”

When Catarina comes by, she determines that Abigail is perfectly healthy aside from being a bit undernourished. After a rough conversation, they learn that Abigail had been living with her neglectful mother- a woman who had stopped caring for Abigail less and less as she grew.

Unfortunately, because Abigail’s mother- a woman she said was named Alice- was alive, adopting her without talking to her legal guardian would technically be kidnapping and neither Alec nor Magnus wanted to explain that to Luke.

So, while Catarina watches over the kids, they take a trip upstate to a crumbling house with an overgrown yard and a broken windowpane. Alec thinks, right away, that this is not the kind of place a child could get a good upbringing.

“Maybe you should let me do the talking,” Magnus says as they approach the door.

Alec raises an eyebrow at him. “Why?

“You’re angry and the last thing we want to do is scare her.” Alec disagrees. He thinks scaring her wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. His thoughts must show on his face because Magnus shakes his head. “I understand, Alexander, I’m upset too. But this woman went through a traumatic experience and raising a warlock as a mundane can’t be easy. Most women don’t even try.”

Alec shrugs. “She failed, Magnus.”

“I know.” Magnus’ voice is pained. “But we need to have a conversation with Alice, not an argument. We can’t go in there just throwing around not just accusations.”

Alec forces himself to pause, to breathe in and out. Of course Magnus knows the pain of being neglected by mundane parents because of his parentage. He fishes out his stele and glamours his runes. “Fine, you can do the talking.”

“Thank you.”

The woman who answers the door a moment later looks to be in almost as poor a state as Abigail had been when they’d found her. Alice has bags under her eyes, her hair tied in a messy bun, clothing stained and torn. She glances between them with fear evident in her eyes and Alec is struck by how young she looks.

“Are you Alice?” Magnus asks, making her look over at him, glancing between his makeup and shiny jacket.

“Yes, who are you?”

“I’m Magnus, this is Alec. We wanted to talk to you about Abigail.”

Alice’s eyes widen, hands curling into her shirt, picking at the fabric. “Abby? Is she okay? What happened?” At least she seems to care.

“She’s fine,” Magnus assures her. “She’s with our own children and a nurse friend of mine. However, the state that we found her in was troubling.”

Alice casts her eyes down. “She gets into trouble sometimes.”

Alec bites back a harsh response, letting Magnus answer instead. “We’re worried about her and the care she’s getting. She told us you let her do as she likes as long as she doesn’t use her magic.”

“Magic? She-she’s very imaginative-”

“Not to worry, I know all about warlocks,” Magnus interrupts, letting his magic twist between his fingers. “Considering I am one.”

Alice stumbles backwards, hands flying up as if to defend herself. “Why are you here?”

“We just want to talk so we can figure out the best way to help Abigail,” Magnus says calmly, letting his magic fade.

It takes a bit more convincing, but once they get Alice to realize she’s not in any harm, she hesitantly invites them in and, sitting on opposite couches in the living room, she tells them her story. The demon that had found her when she was sixteen. The unexpected pregnancy. Being cast out by her parents. “I tried,” Alice stresses, picking at the pillow she’s holding in her lap. “I tried to give her a good home, a good life. Even with the- the claws and the skin thing. I tried.”

Alec exchanges a glance with Magnus. Warlock marks. Warlock marks that Abigail had learned to glamor despite her clear inexperience and lack of knowledge about magic.

“I couldn’t do it anymore,” Alice continues, on the verge of tears. “Every time I look at her, I remember it and the- the magic and the claws and the skin thing. I love her, I do, she’s my daughter, but it’s too hard.”

“Alright,” Magnus says, gently as possible, hand finding Alec’s, fingers threading together. “Like I said, we want to help. Abigail is welcome to stay with us as long as she likes. We don’t want her to lose you, but this clearly isn’t an environment that’s conducive to the best future for either of you.”

Alice nods, tears streaming down her face now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Alec finally speaks, his voice raw. Magnus gives him a warning look, but Alec’s anger has been momentarily subdued. “You clearly love her. And you can change and be good for her, but you need to put in the work.”

Alice sniffles, wiping at her face. “I want to do that.”

“Then we’ll be here to help,” Magnus assures her with a soft, sad smile.

Abigail moves in with them, officially, that day. They bring what little she owns from Alice’s house and make plans to meet with the woman weekly, with Abigail- if she agrees.

She settles into their lives so quickly it’s as if she’s always been there. The boys adore her and she seems to love them just as much and Magnus begins giving her the magic lessons he’d long since been giving Max.

Alice slowly begins to get her life together, but there’s a clear distance between her and Abigail. The younger girl walks on eggshells around her mother and Alice seems reluctant to so much as touch her daughter.

It’s several months before Alice tells them, crying, that she can’t take care of Abigail the way they have been; she can’t foster the growth that’s become apparent as she lived with them.

It’s Christmas Day when they sign the adoption papers, Alice takes the photo and spends the day with them and Alec thinks they’ve gained two new family members, in an odd way.

[jaskierswolf]

The Shape of Love Pt.4/6

Previous

Geralt tugged at the ropes that were holding him captive and growled in frustration. He tried to remember the fight that had led to this cave. The farmer, the crops… the sylvan. He groaned and pulled harder but it was no use. He was stuck.

“This is the part where we escape.” Jaskier half laughed behind him, sounding far too calm for someone who had been captured by a devil and their elves.

“Jaskier.” Geralt growled. “Why are you still here?”

The shifter could have escaped. The ropes weren’t made from dimeritium so Jaskier could have shifted into something smaller and ran away. The blithering idiot was still here because he wanted to be. No wonder he sounded like a cat that had gotten the cream.

Geralt decided that he needed to reevaluate his choice in friends.

“Well as a human, I couldn’t possibly break free.” Jaskier said pointedly. “Oh hello, who are—”

Jaskier’s cheery greeting was cut off by the she-elf punching him in the gut. She spat out angrily in Elder.

“Beast? Really? Wow.” Jaskier muttered. “Never heard that one before. Oi! That’s my lute. Give that back. Quick. Geralt. Do your, your witchering-”

A second elf had Jaskier’s lute and by the sounds of it was starting to strum haphazardly on the strings. Jaskier was squirming against the ties but still not shifting.

Geralt knew that Jaskier was cautious about his abilities. As far as Geralt was aware, no one else knew that Jaskier was a shifter, apart from his estranged family. Geralt supposed that Jaskier’s childhood had taught him that his abilities were something to be feared, that humans would see him as a freak, that he would be hurt and imprisoned.

So why had Jaskier shown Geralt so easily?

Why had he trusted a monster slayer of all people?

Maybe his self-preservation instinct was just that low. He could save himself and his lute by shifting. He could probably save Geralt too.

Bloody bard.

“Does Mister Fuzzball not want to help?” Geralt muttered.

Jaskier grumbled something under his breath and elbowed Geralt in the back.

The elf had had enough of their bickering and yelled at them to shut up, so naturally Jaskier just had to talk back. Geralt was losing his patience with the bard, this would have all been so much easier if he would just shift! He silently vowed to only let Jaskier join him on hunts again if he was in a less fragile form. Fighting monsters as a wolf was one thing but as a human bard? Not so useful.

“Do you want to die right now?” The elf asked bitterly.

“As opposed to later?” Geralt shot back.

“No, please, not the lu —” Jaskier grunted as the she-elf kicked him in the chest. Geralt felt the impact and Jaskier pushed against his back. The sound of lute strings twanged in the cave in time with the kick.

“Leave off!” Geralt growled, pulling again at the ropes. If Jaskier wasn’t going to help himself then it was up to Geralt to defend them. “He’s just a bard.” He lied.

It didn’t help, much. The elf turned her attacks on Geralt but at least she was leaving Jaskier alone. The same could not be said about the bard’s lute, the first fatality of their adventure.

Jaskier, forgetting his reluctance to shift, decided to challenge the elf. The feral little shit.

He was far too chatty as a human. Geralt really should have expected that. Even as an animal he was constantly purring, or whining, or chattering away as whatever animal he’d decided on. If he wasn’t vocalising his thoughts then he would let Geralt know what he was thinking by clawing, biting, flicking his ears or tail, or licking him in the face. There was rarely a moment where the shifter was still, not whilst he was awake.

Geralt didn’t mind… when they weren’t fighting for their lives.

“You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!” Jaskier yelled at the elf.

“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped but it was too late.

“Do you like my place? Hmm?” The elf knelt down next to Geralt. She smirked as she tucked a finger under his chin. “Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?”

Geralt seized the opportunity and head butted her. She fell back and Jaskier cheered, cackling as he threw insults back at the elf, but the ferocious elf stayed down. Geralt hadn’t been expecting that. He’d hit her hard enough to knock her away but not hard enough to seriously damage her. It had been self-defence. He wasn’t in the habit of hunting elves.

“Wait, what’s wrong with her?” Jaskier’s voice changed from jeering to concerned in a heartbeat.

Geralt smiled faintly at that. Of course Jaskier would feel sympathy for their captures.

“She’s sick.” A new voice spat, instantly commanding the room.

He was in charge then.

Filavandrel. He was an interesting person, Geralt thought. He cared deeply for those under his protection but his own pride stopped him from really being able to help them. He let the sylvan steal grain for them but did nothing to save his species in the long term, and for elves, long term was what mattered. Human lifespans were but a heartbeat to them.

Torque was ironically the most human out of all them. He displayed compassion, the best side of humanity. He cared for both the elves and the humans that they stole from. He protested at Toruviel’s attacks and Geralt almost felt bad for breaking one of his horns… almost. The act had been to defend both his life and Jaskier’s. He wouldn’t regret that.

“What’s two humans in the ground when countless elves have died?” Toruviel spat.

Jaskier’s melodic laugh rang out in the cave, silencing her bitter words.

“Right well. You have something to learn about making assumptions, elf.” Jaskier’s said cheerfully.

The bastard was enjoying this.

“This one” Geralt felt Jaskier wiggle behind him. “is a witcher, Geralt of Rivia.”

“Shut up, human.” Toruviel snapped.

“And I!” Jaskier ignored her “am only human-ish.”

“Human-ish?” The she-elf hissed.

Geralt smirked. “Finally going to lend a hand, bard?”

“Honestly, dear witcher, I thought you would have gotten us out by now. Clearly I overestimated your abilities.” Jaskier teased him with laughter in his voice.

“Just fucking shift.” Geralt groaned. Once Jaskier was loose, Geralt would be able to free himself.

There was a familiar crack of bones and the ropes went slack around his chest. The elves in the room were visibly shocked as Jaskier shifted. Geralt was finally able to turn around to check on his friend, he laughed when he saw the pile of clothes where Jaskier had once sat. He reached out to help Jaskier out of the pile but found a blade at his throat instead.

“Where is he?” Filavandrel asked calmly.

Geralt looked up at the blond elf and slowly reached out a hand into the pile of clothes. He heard a squeak as he gripped the small bundle of fur. He pulled Jaskier out of the bundle of blue fabric by his tail and the red squirrel scurried up his arm and then leapt to land on Filavandrel’s shoulder.

The elf seemed taken aback but gently petted Jaskier on the head. “Maybe I should have asked, what is he?” He mused with a gentle laugh.

Geralt smirked. Of course Jaskier would have the elf king wrapped around his little tiny squirrel fingers in an instant.

“Not really sure.” Geralt answered, staying sat on the ground even as Filavandrel moved his sword from Geralt’s neck. “A shifter of some kind, but he’s more powerful than any one I’ve ever met.”

Toruviel snorted. “He’s a squirrel.”

Jaskier barked and leapt onto her head, shifted mid-air into a swallow.

Geralt hummed as he watched the shock and awe on the elves’s faces. Jaskier chirped and ruffled his feathers on top of Toruviel’s head.

“Impressive.” Filavandrel noted and then sighed. “But I can’t let you go. Posada will learn that we’ve been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die… on both sides.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at the elf and growled. Filavandrel had his blade back at Geralt’s throat.  He didn’t flinch. He felt lighter now that Jaskier was free. Even if he got killed he knew that Jaskier would escape. The elves would no doubt underestimate Jaskier’s shifting ability.

His only hope was to try and talk Filavandrel down, show that he wasn’t a threat. Maybe he could even convince the elves to stop their self imposed segregation and help them to survive.

He didn’t get a chance.

Jaskier had pounced at Filavandrel, a large russet wolf with bright shining blue eyes, baring his teeth and a growl rumbling in his chest. Filavandrel’s sword clattered on the ground and the other two elves suddenly had weapons drawn and pointed at the wolf.

“Jaskier, stand down!” Geralt yelled.

The wolf continued to growl at the elf beneath his paws, but his ears flicked so Geralt knew the shifter had heard him, fucking stubborn ass.

Geralt slowly stood up and ran his hands through Jaskier’s thick fur. “Jask, let him go.” He murmured softly.

The wolf whined but sat down on his haunches, releasing the elf king.

Geralt helped Filavandrel to his feet. He hoped the gesture would earn the elf’s trust. He could still negotiate a way out of this cave with no one getting hurt. He just had to keep Jaskier in check.

He kept a hand in Jaskier’s fur as he spoke with Filavandrel. The elf was infuriating. If only he could see the damage he was doing to his people by refusing to mix with the humans. They were going to starve if they kept up like this. The sylvan was stealing too much as it was, the humans were getting suspicious and if the crop yield didn’t improve then the villagers would know that Geralt had failed his contract and they would hire another witcher to go after the Devil of Posada, or rally up a troop of reckless humans to do a witcher’s job.

Filavandrel didn’t listen to Geralt’s reason but the presence of Jaskier in wolf form was enough to stop them from attacking again.

Geralt eventually gave up and just slung the full coin purse that the farmer had given him into the elf’s hands. Filavandrel seemed surprised by his generosity but repaid the favour by handing Geralt a lute, compensation for Jaskier’s broken one. There was an uneasy truce made between them and Filavandrel finally stepped aside to let Geralt and Jaskier go. Geralt scooped up Jaskier’s clothes and they headed out into the bright sunlight.

______________

Jaskier strummed his lute thoughtfully as they strode back towards Posada. Geralt had stood guard whilst Jaskier had shifted back to human form and gotten changed, and by standing guard he meant that Geralt and stood with his back to him and grumbled about how reckless Jaskier had been and that they were both lucky to be alive.

“Stop your moaning, Geralt.” Jaskier sighed as he thought about their adventure, wondering what ballad he could pull from the experience.

“You’re lucky Filavandrel didn’t drive his blade through your heart, Jaskier.” Geralt huffed.

“I. Am. Fine.” Jaskier accentuated each word with a strum of his lute.

“You should have run.” Geralt insisted.

“And leave you? Oh no. No. no. no. Not happening.” Jaskier walked closer to Roach to prove his point. “You know, you’re much less grumpy when I’m in animal form?”

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted.

“It’s easier for you then, isn’t it? To show affection?” Jaskier guessed.

Geralt didn’t reply. He just kicked Roach into a canter and flew off down the path.

Jaskier sighed.

He could catch up with Geralt easily but it would mean dumping his lute and ruining his clothes.

“Oi! Geralt!” He called after the witcher and ran after him. “I’m sorry!” Geralt slowed to a walk to allow Jaskier to catch up, thank fuck, but still didn’t respond. So Jaskier chattered away about their adventure. He hadn’t realised how rough the elves had it. He felt slightly guilty about that. He really should have known. He knew first hand how humans treated those who were different. Geralt stayed silent but made no more effort to run off on him. Eventually Jaskier got bored of his monologue so he began to sing. He had a few false starts but eventually he found an idea that he liked.

Geralt wasn’t so sure.

“That’s not what happened.” He grumbled.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and turned to face Geralt. There was a trace of a smile dancing on the witcher’s lips.

“Where’s your newfound respect?” Geralt asked with a slight tilt of his head.

Jaskier smirked, so the witcher had been listening to him after all.

“Respect doesn’t make history.” He answered, blinking against the bright sunlight, then he continued to work on his composition as he strolled down the path.

Geralt would follow him. He knew that. He may have worried at first what Geralt thought of his human form but the witcher had had plenty of opportunities to leave him throughout their quest.

He suspected that Geralt had grown fond of his company, even if the grumpy bastard wouldn’t admit it.

Sure enough he heard the trot of Roach’s hooves follow him and he smiled as he sang.

__________

Next

[letterstomilen]

the death of rex lapis (hopefully)

Zhongli, Vampire Alternative Universe (warning: this is mainly expositional bc ive had fun playing around w the idea of how zhongli would be if he was a vampire so idk where this’ll go! there is some childe/zhongli but not much!! anyways happy birthday zhongli i love you :) Zhongli does not make a good vampire. 

Immortality is meant to make you smart.

But what people forget is that you don’t live that long because of wits. Immortality does not mean you are capable; it means that you were foolish enough to get bitten and didn’t think much of it later.

He wasn’t clever when he was held by Guizhong, who smiled sweetly at him as she looked at him, her hair brushing against his skin and cold hands curling the ends of his hair. And certainly not sharp when he failed to notice that her heart wasn’t beating and she seemed to look more at his neck— ”You have a very fine neck,” she informed him when he asked, and he nodded, assuming that it was one of those things sculptors just happened to notice—than his eyes for the majority of the night.

Whether it was out of guilt or disinterest, he doesn’t know. Zhongli would like to think that it was out of guilt, because prior to the night, they were friends. And after she bit his neck, she held him in her arms, whispering story after story as he stuck by fever.

The pain was unimaginable. First—there was shock. And then minutes later, while he wondered why the room smelled more like sweat and blood than incense, he realized that he was still held down.

This must be what quarry feels like, he thought then. But now he knows otherwise; prey would never be held so gently and lay there limply if they could help it. He, while being drained every bit of life, was a willing, sitting duck.

That was before the pain, of course. When she finally let go of him to wash her face—he recalls this clearly: her wiping her face, then licking the blood off her hands with the relish of a child on her birthday, before leaving to the bathroom—he laid there paralyzed. It was, he’s discovered, a bit like being drunk.

Only that the alcohol left his insides in unimaginable pain for days on end. He stumbled when he tried to stand; babbled as he struggled to speak. Even now he only remembers brief flashes of it, when he tore the skin on his arm with his newly grown canines, or hours of rejecting food that he could not quite stomach.

In reality, he was a child—a baby, really, if you were being blunt about it. The weeks that followed were horrendous and perhaps it’s a blessing that he spent the majority of them inhibited, the metamorphosis shedding every part of him that he was comfortable with. But as the days went on, the pain gave way to numbness and numbness gave away to strength.

And when he finally regained enough consciousness to form a coherent sentence, he asked Guizhong why she did it. She, with the certainty of somebody that’s lived for longer than he had, answered, “Well, you’ve always been interested in how the world would change after you were gone. Isn’t this now your chance to witness it?”

Fanaticism with history and predictions could only get you so far. To witness it—wasn’t that just a dream? And because he assumed that rocks were eternal and could not erode back then, he nodded in agreement.

It was a mistake.

Six hundred years ago, Zhongli underestimated the length of his lifetime. One day he’d be talking to somebody about their newborn and it would only be a blink later where their newborn was six feet under, hailed for having a long and blessed life. (What made a blessed life? It couldn’t have been the years ���he concluded that every year he was more cursed than before.) Relationships were scarce because he forgot that not everybody experienced time the same way he did.

Days, contrary to his belief, were not fleeting seconds but rather twenty-four hours long. They composed of both the night and day, waking and sleeping hours instead of mindless walks that ended with him apologizing profusely before his fangs were embedded deep into somebody’s throat.

Somebody suggested for him to just do it in an alley and leave them there to be found at morning. But that was too disrespectful—uncouth even. He preferred to invite them into his home, graciously taking their coat and ushering them inside to a table filled with food. Venti always commented on how polite he was to the very end, taking extra care to cook food that he knew they liked—“Last meal before execution, huh?” he’d comment. “Very romantic.”—and making them comfortable until the very end.

That’s not how it started of course.

He tried starving himself at first—much to Osial’s amusement. On a night out, where Zhongli was more attuned to the heat and beating hearts of the people around him than the delicacies laid out, Osial took it a step further by passing him a cup with a thick, maroon liquid that sloshed around in it.

It smelled finer than the silk flowers that littered the gardens, and when he took the cup, he felt one step closer to the damnation Guizhong always spoke of. The worst part was that it didn’t churn his stomach—instinctually, he felt more delighted than he ever felt, a smile cracking his worn face as he inspected the goblet. Only when did he take note of Osial’s smug expression, the glint in his eyes that reminded him of an elusive professor, and the way he watched him carefully the way a parent would watch a child take its first steps, did he hesitate.

It wasn’t benign; it was as if he expected him to trip and fall over after attempting to take his first steps, taking pleasure in both the failure and success. Because both would end with Zhongli crossing the line one way or another, wouldn’t it? And there was nothing more enjoyable than sadism to somebody that’s seen it all already.

Right now he is fighting a losing battle. But he would rather starve than lose it here, so he hands the cup back to him, feeling a little more of his willpower crack.

Animal blood, by all accounts, is disgusting. It’s oily and sometimes he’d get sick, ending the night more ravenous than ever as if his skin were tightening around itself. You couldn’t just drink it—especially if you didn’t know where the animal has been. First you had to kill it neatly—a quick breaking of the neck would suffice, as strangulations were often drawn out—and then you had to clean it.

There was something almost humane in the process. Countless butchers have done it before, so he felt comfortable doing it himself.

It was only when he sunk his teeth into the carcass that he felt more like a vulture than anything else. The blood only staved off his hunger for short periods, so it was more of a painkiller than a sufficient meal.

And Osial found the whole thing to be hilarious.

“How unfortunate. If only Guizhong didn’t choose somebody that insisted on drinking animal blood, then it’d be more enjoyable. You know—if you open your mouth a little wider, you’ll look a bit more like the starving beast you are.” Then he dipped a finger in the cup and licked it as if it were chocolate, sweet and rich.

“Yes… Perhaps I should move onto better things. Do you think vampire blood is like wine? Or would age spoil its taste? I imagine that to a starving beast, there would be no difference—no matter how rotten your blood is, it’s still blood after all.”

Osial laughed and spit the blood out. “Well, you’re not wrong. This animal blood may be disgusting, but to you, what’s the difference?”

He wore his cruelty like a well-fitting suit, the creases shaped like ill-natured grins. Zhongli wondered if that will be him hundreds of years from now, but maybe Osial was always this unpleasant. Guizhong spoke of him the way somebody would talk about their ill-tempered cousin—sure, he’s awful to be around but he’s been a part of the family for so long already.

At the very least, he can provide a good meal. The question will always be for who, and his appetite is insatiable concerning all matters. Some vampires preferred a more barbaric approach of finding somebody, killing them, and then throwing the body away. Others—like Osial—treated it more like a game, drawing it out.

Sometimes he’d target entire families and call it a “feast” inviting others to join him. They were gruesome affairs that ended with many drunk on blood for weeks at a time, and even though he never went to them, he always heard about them.

Directly from Osial of course. Who seems intent on highlighting every small detail, every bloody death or desperate guest that was less than willing in the end but, Osial would say with delight, weren’t they all? As a matter of fact—and here was when he’d bring Guizhong into it, dragging her out of her room with her blueprints and models—Zhongli was very willing, wasn’t he?

“Up until he realized that he had to drink blood,” he’d say, as if he finally reached the punchline for a joke—then Osial would throw his head back with laughter.

And it’s not as if he hadn’t before. Sometimes, if he hurt himself, he would’ve licked the blood. But that tasted metallic—it was nothing like the delicacies that other vampires would set out, naming the meals by age, defining trait (sexual activity, lifestyle, etc.), and gender.

It took him fifty years for his willpower to break down. And he did it in front of Barbatos, who simply watched as he drank, not speaking of the way Zhongli drunkenly rambled for hours on end nor the way blood trickled down his neck and stained his clothing.

The deaths after that were easier. It was almost disappointing how he managed to replicate what Guizhong did with such ease. When he set the serviette over their chest before sinking his teeth into their jugular, he felt just like her.

Only when did he clean them up before burying them did he truly feel at rest. At the time it felt like appropriate compensation—a substitute for the promise he failed to keep for himself. The whole ordeal of washing the blood out of their matted hair and drying it out as he laid them down alleviated the sense of unease.

Guizhong would often watch him while he did it, pointing out certain anatomical features as she did. Her hands would trace over their veins, pressing down on the blue as she spoke. Osial joined them once, but he was so perturbed by the attention Zhongli dedicated to the process that he left immediately.

That was centuries ago.

He, sometime down the line, traded in these rituals for slaughter and abandoned that for mimicking the human lifestyle.

Barbatos would say that it’s been badly done, of course. 

“You make the worst human,” he once said, as he watched Zhongli struggle to stomach garlic bread that he offered him.

 Which could be why he’s now cornered by a vampire hunter.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is often frequented by vampires all around Teyvat—there are rumors of blood dealings with underground groups but the Milileth has never investigated it—and Zhongli, with no danger signals, happens to be one of them.

It doesn’t help that he works there too. The irony that all these years later he never quite rid himself of dealing with dead bodies isn’t lost on him.

And he did hear about the Fatui, because word about people hunting vampires travels fast in a country as busy as Liyue.

“Sir,” the vampire hunter informs him kindly, “you do know that this is a hub for vampires, right?”

The voice isn’t what shocks Zhongli. Neither is the maroon mask that’s hanging by the side of his head—one told to be notorious among only the most vicious of hunters—or the thin outlines of weapons in his clothes.

It’s his eyes. They’re a bright blue, usually associated with the sea on bright days, but they’re more akin to the vampires that Zhongli has seen before with the wild glint in his eyes. It’s jarring with the smile that he adopts as he asks, and he imagines opening his mouth to a pair of fangs.

He knows that he won’t find them though. If the rumors he hears are any indications, the Fatui are above recruiting any vampires that’ll threaten their operation.

“Ah. Yes. I do. I’m the consultant here, you see,” he explains politely.

And shouldn’t that be an indication that he’s a vampire? Hu Tao is notorious for her strange tastes. And he must know of the deals she makes with underground groups, the money and blood that’s traded between them.  

“Oh!” the hunter’s expression brightens as he clasps his hands together. “I heard about you! I got to say—when they told me that the consultant was knowledgeable on all things Rex Lapis, I was expecting an old man.”

He doesn’t wait to explain who Rex Lapis is. This, of course, is a given seeing that Rex Lapis has become a household name, infamous for his butchery of both vampires and humans alike. But a hundred years later, Zhongli hoped, people would forget about him—or maybe get rid of the fanaticism in their voices when they spoke about him.

It’s quite discomforting, really.

“Well, I am old.”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah. You hardly look older than me. Call me Childe—I was hoping that you could, ah, answer a few questions I have on Rex Lapis. The 77th Master said that you’d be available and more than willing. She.. actually, here you go!”

Zhongli takes the paper he offers him, which says If you ask him anything, he’d be more than willing to spend the rest of the day answering it! in her rough cursive that he’s grown to dislike. Of course—the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is not beneath fraternizing with vampires or the Fatui.

But he prefers this much more than the vampires that stare at him as they struggle to place him in their ancient hierarchy. And this does work in his favor, he thinks. A vampire hunter wants to know more about him, Rex Lapis—wouldn’t this aid him in finally meeting his end?

So he politely smiles and gives him back the note, not missing how warm Childe’s skin is in comparison to his own. It’s been years since he’s touched a human without the intention of killing them, hasn’t it?

More than suitable then.

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

[bijoharvelle]

Deancas high school au, cas sees dean giving sam a wedgie and thinks he's a bully so he picks a fight and the two end up alone in detention together

okay so i ended up doing something different with how they got detention because that’s what my brain made happen but hopefully you’re still cool with it!!!! cw: for mentions of bullying/fighting that’s implied to be based around queer issues

Dean stops short a foot into the classroom serving as detention that afternoon, just staring. Aside from their chaperone, the only other person there is Cas and Cas is the whole reason he’s even in detention to begin with. “Aw, c’mon, you gotta be kidding me,” he whines at Miss Milton, his Latin teacher and apparently the detention monitor on Thursdays. “Shouldn’t we get, like, separate detentions or something?”

Cas doesn’t say anything, just glares harder at the desktop.

“Apparently not,” Miss Milton says brightly. She does everything brightly and normally that would piss Dean off on principle but, well, he likes her. “Have a seat, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean slouches to the last row and slings himself into the desk in the farthest corner. All he can see of Cas now is the disaster of their hair and their tense shoulders.

It’s not long into the forty-five minutes of their sentence that the statistics teacher, Miss Masters, raps on the door jamb. Dean can see from his angle that she sends a pointed look with raised eyebrows to Miss Milton, who promptly blushes and then tells the two boys that she’ll be right back and they better be quiet and well-behaved in the meantime. And then she ducks out of the room and it’s just Dean and Cas.

“Hey,” Dean half-whispers. “D’you think Milton and Masters are banging?”

 Cas doesn’t answer, but Dean can see that their hand clenches on the desk.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Dean says, leaning back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “They’re mad at me.”

“Yes! I am!” Cas says, seemingly unable to help themself. They whip around to set their eyes on Dean, face murderous. “You had no right to do what you did!”

“I was defending you!” Dean counters, arms spread wide. “Al woulda kicked your ass and you know it. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you,” Cas repeats sarcastically. “Yes, Dean. Thank you. Thank you for making everyone think that I can’t stand up for myself. That I need someone like you to fight my battles.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Someone like me?”

“Some over-compensating, uber-masculine closet-case!”

Dean laughs at that and he means for it to be sharp and mean but it just comes out a little punchy. Because, yeah, he never expected Cas Novak to have that kind of fight in them. They’re intense, sure, but they’re so quiet and always digging around in books like Sam. Though, considering how Sam could fight, maybe Dean should have figured after all.

“Okay, first, that’s a pretty fucked up assumption to make about someone,” Dean says calmly, still smiling a little. Maybe because something in Cas’s tirade reminds him of... Well, of himself. Of him chasing after his dad, always wanting to be seen as enough, as capable. “Second, I can see, I guess, why you were pissed off, so I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna see Alistair drag your ass to hell. And third, just because I don’t wear a pin on my bookbag about it, doesn’t mean I’m straight, or pretending to be.”

Cas is taken aback threefold, eyes widening by degrees as Dean went on. They look at their backpack, where there is a cluster of colorful pins, rainbows of pride in different shapes. “That’s two things I didn’t expect,” Cas says quietly, head tilting a little. After a soft moment, they look up to Dean. There’s a deep mottled ring of purple and green around his one eye, where Alistair got off a shot. “You’re right. I’m sorry for...making that assumption. And. And thank you. For apologizing.”

Dean definitely does not ignore the bubbles of light that burst in his chest because there is definitely nothing like that happening. Sighing, he rises from his seat, kicks his bookbag forward and slides into the chair next to Cas. Pointing at the buttons, he asks, “Is one of those stupid things for, like, bisexual?” And maybe Cas is a little right about the over-compensating thing because it’s not like Dean doesn’t know what the bisexual pride flag looks like and it’s not like he doesn’t know it’s the one right next to the one declaring “they/them -- grammatically sound & best around.”

Cas just blinks at him for a minute. And then they reach down and unpin the pink, blue and purple button. “You can... I mean. If you want...” They’re offering the button out to Dean.

And Dean realizes he’s absolutely fucked because he takes the thing and fastens it to the strap of his backpack. “Thanks,” he says and he smiles a little even though it makes his split lip ache and when Cas looks at him, they’re smiling a little too.

And then Miss Milton lopes back in through the door, blushing even worse than before with a dreamy look on her face. Dean grins pointedly at Cas but doesn’t say anything.

“Well. It looks like you two are getting along better,” she says (brightly) and claps her hands.

“Yeah, we’re a regular Breakfast Club,” Dean replies, kicking his feet up onto the chair in front of him.

“I don’t understand that reference,” Cas says quietly, head already tipping back down to look at their desk. But just beneath the swell of their injured eye is the hint of a blush.

[mysterious-prophetess]

BnHA/MHA: Past One for All Users thoughts

Once again, I am putting spoilers under the cut, so click on it at your own peril and spoilerage. 

I warned you.

So!

First,

Four’s name!

Hikage Shinomori

Thanks to being a weeb I can identify kage=shadow, Shi= four, no =of mori = forest. the “Hi” is harder to place. It could be “fire” like from Rei Hino of Sailor Moon. But it could be the same “Hi” used in Rei Todoroki’s maiden name Himura which means “ice” or another meaning all together. 

Eitherway Something-shadow four of forest.

Four being a forest hermit makes the Shinomori name a pun on that, his early death from quirk strain, AND the number four. 

Let’s move onto Six!

I think this is one of the few times he’s spoken. 

Something about him reminds me of Best Jeanist. It’s not just the tendency to hide half his face behind a collar. Something about the eye shape. This is likely coincidental. I bring it up because it’s a thought I have and this is a post about that.

On to 2/3. 

I have no idea which is which, just that these two are 2/3 respectively. 

I’ve mentally been calling the one Not!Shikamaru and the other Not!Bakugo. Let’s start with Not! Shikamaru. 

I’m thinking his quirk and fighting style were hands on and that’s why he has the bandages on his forearms. In fact, with his gear I’d hazard to say that this guy is probably 2. Less hero-like than Not!Bakugo, and almost as civilian like as First. It also looks like a tactical vest from the real world. 

It would also be why he’s twitchiest around AfO’s presence. He KNEW HIM and the First. 

Or his quirk was like 4/Hikage’s in that it wasn’t physical so he had to compensate as a hand-to-hand fighter. Either way, I think he’s very likely 2 and if I’m wrong, oh well.

Now to Probably 3: Not!Bakugo. Note: I’ll be using full names because I’ll be talking about both Masaru and Katsuki Bakugo in this next section.

See those? They look an AWFUL lot like Katsuki Bakugo’s gantlets. Qurik with a need for redirection. Perhaps an elemental quirk. Could be water, wind, or fire based. 

The collar even reminds me a little of Katsuki Bakugo’s costume.

So here’s my theory for probably 3: This is a Bakugo ancestor. 

We know Masaru Bakugo attempted heroics with his combustion quirk. He didn’t have the drive for it, and never got far but I wonder if maybe the Bakugo family had a hero in their ancestry.

We know some of the One for All users had family. Nana, for instance. 

Since the others were “had the quirk for a short time” in duration, it’s possible probably 3 had it for a short enough time that AfO didn’t find his family or probably 3 got his family out of dodge. Chasing after the actual quirk would be far more interesting for AfO than the family of the dead past users unless the current user was attached and we know 4/Hikage was left alone to go hermit so that means Probably 3′a family was given a chance to fade out of AfO’s knowledge. 

Therefore, I put forth the ancestor theory.

Onto OfA itself.

We now have approximately 58 years of OfA’s lifespan accounted for. 

And finding out Toshinori had it for forty years does help with figuring out his age. If Toshinori got it at 15—in time for his first year at UA—then that makes him 55 years old. It’s minor but I like knowing that.

It also makes other things make sense. 

Enji Todoroki is in his 40′s. Ergo, All Might’s shadow loomed large as he began his career. We knew this but now we know it was a decade’s head-start. 

So, with over a quarter of OfA split between two of the eight predecessors, that leaves around 142-ish years unaccounted for between the other six. Now if 18years  is the distant second-place to Toshinori/8′s 40, that means that there is some time unaccounted for or OfA and AfO aren’t precisely 200. 

I do think First is the third runner up in time. Without knowing exacts I can’t even begin to guess who had it for how long, though I suspect Probably 3 and 5/Banjo were shorter spans for some reason. 

Something else to think about, does the First count in this? It was his quirk and the conversation was bout passing ALONG One for All and not being the originator of the quirk. Meaning, First could have had it longer than 4/Hikage BUT since he wasn’t a successor he was an outlier and shouldn’t have been counted. 

So, if First doesn’t count, he could have theoretically had that quirk for twenty-thirty years and it wouldn’t have mattered to the successor records. Him having it for that span of time would help drive home how fleeting a time the others had with it. 

Some time just doesn’t add up so I have no idea how old the quirk is and therefore can’t figure out how to divide up the rest of the times and have them be less than 18. 

I do think the earlier numbers had it longer, but not as long as 4/Hikage who was left alone. Probably because he left AfO alone and, ergo, wasn’t directly going head-to-head with him and drawing his attention. 

But this also begs the question: how old are AfO and OfA really?

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Dark and Stormy Night

For Suptober Day 18. This one really got away from me!

It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder rolled over the land, causing the ground to shake with every rumble. Lightning flashed, illuminating the night with bright white streaks. Rain fell from the sky in waves, beating against anyone who was unlucky enough to be out in the downpour. 

Most creatures were curled up in their homes, unwilling to venture into the storm. One poor person was not so cautious. Dean Winchetser was driving down a lone road cutting through the forest on his way home from visiting his brother. It had been months since he had seen Sam and he knew it would be a long time before he saw him again. Even though the visit had required him to take five days off of work, he didn’t regret it one bit. He would never turn down an opportunity to see his little brother.

Dean knew he would pick up extra shifts at his jobs to compensate for the lost work days but he didn’t mind. Sam was doing amazing in college and therefore Dean’s hard earned money was being put to good use. He would work a dozen jobs if it meant Sammy got to have his dreams.

Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his 1967 Chevy Impala. Baby was the only thing left by his dad that Dean actually wanted. The thousands of dollars worth of debt was not wanted very much. Sam had offered to help pay off their dad’s bills, but Dean refused. Sam needed to save his money for better things. Dean didn’t mind working himself to the bone, it’s all he’d ever known. Sam was the smart one and had a bright future ahead of him. Dean was just a grunt. He had always been and always would be.

Dean was singing quietly to the rock song playing on the radio when suddenly a large black wolf ran across the road. Dean jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting the animal and instead crashed into a tree sitting close to the roadside. “Son of a bitch,” he shouted as Baby’s hood grunted and groaned as it was crumpled. The car rumbled for a few seconds more before the engine and lights shut off, throwing Dean into silent darkness.

Dean grabbed his spare flashlight from the backseat and threw the door open and rushed outside to see how bad the damage was. He was immediately soaked all the way to his skin under the torrential downpour. Dean took quick stock of Baby’s crumbled hood, checking underneath to get a good look at the engine, and cursed under his breath. The damage wasn’t as awful as it could be and he would be able to fix it at the garage he worked at. The problem was, the garage wouldn’t be open for another five hours, so Dean couldn’t call them for towing assistance.

Once the damage had been assessed, Dean slipped back into Baby’s front seat, muttering a quick apology for getting water everywhere. He was already shivering as the chill from the rain seeped into his bones. He grabbed the blanket from the back seat and covered himself up as much as possible. 

Dean woke from a light sleep sometime later, unsure of how much time had passed. He blinked his eyes before turning his head to look out the driver’s side window and was surprised to see a pair of glowing blue eyes staring at him. He screamed and scrambled into the passenger seat as the eyes continued to look at him. Suddenly, the eyes disappeared.

Dean continued to stare at the empty space, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. He shook his head, trying to determine if he was still dreaming. Dean jumped, hitting his head on the roof, when there was a light tapping on his window. He was frozen as the tapping continued when a voice broke through the night. “Hello! Can you hear me?”

Dean slowly crawled forward and was surprised when he saw a hand knocking against his window. He reached for the handle and slowly rolled the window down, rain immediately blowing into the car. “Hello,” he called.

A head appeared in Dean’s line of sight. “Hey, it seems your car broke down. I can give you a ride to my place. At least, you’d have somewhere warm and dry until the morning.”

It was still too dark for Dean to make out much about the man. Dean chewed on his lips, unsure what to do. Being able to get out of the pouring rain sounded like a good idea, but this man could be some kind of murderer for all Dean knew. 

“Have you decided? It’s still raining heavily and I’m getting soaked,” the man shouted, obviously annoyed.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean replied. Hopefully his decision didn’t get him killed. He grabbed Baby��s keys, rolled the window up, and opened the door.

Dean slammed the door shut and made sure it was locked before turning towards the other man. “Follow me,” he shouted over the pounding rain.

They ran to a pickup truck parked a few feet away. They threw themselves inside, both sighing at escaping the rainfall. The man started the truck up and turned the heater up as high as it would go. Dean immediately held his hands up to the vents and sighed at the warmth that started to rush through his fingers.

“I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you,” the man said, his voice deep and full of gravel.

Dean turned to look at the man next to him and gasped. The guy was drop dead gorgeous and if the circumstances were different, Dean would already be flirting with him. He had shaggy black hair, a few day’s stubble, plump lips, and the most gorgeous ocean blue eyes Dean had ever seen. Dean was suddenly reminded of the eyes he had seen when he first woke up. This guy's eyes were almost the exact same color and Dean felt a tremor ripple through his body at the realization. “Uh, you didn’t happen to see anything around my car when you pulled up, did you?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Castiel tilted his head. “I saw a large shape next to your car, but it was too dark for me to make out what kind of animal it was. It disappeared into the bushes before I could shine a light on it. Why do you ask.”

Relief swept through Dean. “Uh, your eyes are eerily similar to the eyes of whatever was by my car. It’s a little creepy.”

Castiel’s lips curved up slightly. “I’m sorry. There’s not much I can do about that.”

“It’s ok. I’m Dean by the way. Thanks for stopping and offering me a place to stay.” Dean shivered, his wet clothes sticking to him like glue.

Castiel caught the motion. “Don’t worry. My house is only about five minutes away and then we can go inside and change into something dry and warm.”

“That sounds awesome,” Dean said as Castiel started the truck and pulled back onto the road.

Cas glanced at him before looking back at the road. “So, how did you end up hitting that tree?”

Dean growled. “Believe it or not, a damn wolf ran out in front of me! I didn’t even know wolves lived in Kansas. Anyway, being the nice guy that I am, I avoided hitting the damn thing and instead crashed into that tree. It’s a good thing I wasn’t going very fast or who knows what would have happened.”

Cas nodded his head, his gaze focused on the asphalt in front of him. “Well, I’m sure the wolf appreciates you not hitting it.”

“It better because now my car is wrecked. If I didn’t already work as a mechanic, there’s no way I could afford to get my car fixed. As it is, I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to get to my jobs without a working car,” Dean replied, tersely.

“Jobs?” Cas asked, obviously confused.

“Yeah, jobs,” Dean said with a nod of his head. “I work at Singer’s Garage during the day and then work at the Roadhouse at night. Helping to pay your brother’s way through college and having to pay off the debt left behind by your alcoholic father isn’t cheap.” 

Dean snapped his mouth shut, surprised at himself. He rarely talked to people and within minutes of meeting Cas, he was already spilling his secrets. Something about the man was relaxing and made him easy to talk to. Dean took a deep breath and his nose was filled with the warm scent of sandalwood and jasmine. He glanced at Cas, wondering where the smell was coming from. 

“I’m sorry. That must be tough to do. I work one job and it leaves me exhausted. I couldn’t imagine having to work two,” Cas replied with a quick glance in Dean’s direction.

Dean shrugged. “I’m used to it. Sam’s the smart one. I’ve never been good for anything besides grunt work. I ended up dropping out of high school so I could work full time just to be able to take care of Sam since dad was never around. When he told me he wanted to go to college, there was no way I was going to keep him from doing that. After dad died, I was forced to get a second job so I could continue to support my brother. His future is worth more than some lost sleep on my end.”

Again, Dean was surprised at how much he was telling Cas, but something about the man slipped past Dean’s reservations. He found that after keeping so much bottled inside for so long, he desperately wanted to get it all out. Cas actually seemed to be listening to Dean rather than just humoring him. Dean actually felt better, getting some of the weight he had carried for years off his shoulders.

By now they were pulling up in front of a log cabin. It wasn’t overly large but was bigger than Dean was used to. He had always lived in apartments and the one he currently lived in was nothing more than a run down crackerjack box. They exited the truck and quickly ran up the steps. Cas unlocked the door and then both rushed inside.

Dean could have wept with joy as he was surrounded by heat. His nose was once again flooded with sandalwood and jasmine. Maybe it was an air freshener or a cologne that Cas used and that’s why Dean smelled it earlier in the truck. He frowned at the water dripping off his clothes and forming a puddle on the floor. He looked at Cas and said, “You got a towel and I’ll wipe this mess up.”

“Let’s get changed first. If you want, you could take a shower while I get some clothes for you. I should have something that fits you,” Cas explained as he studied Dean up and down.

“That sounds great. Just point me in the direction of the bathroom.” Once Cas had given him directions, Dean made his way. He quickly turned the water on and stripped out of his clothes. As he stepped under the hot spray, he moaned in contentment.

He had just finished washing his hair when there was a knock on the door. “Dean, it’s me. I’ve got some clothes for you. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, just leave them on the sink. Thanks,” Dean called back.

He heard the door open and then shut a moment later. Once he was done showering, he dried off and then slipped into the sweatpants and shirt Cas had left. He couldn’t help but smell them, and something in his chest lurched at the warm scent that was practically imbedded in the fabric. He was definitely going to have to ask Cas about whatever scent this was because it was the best smelling thing ever. The clothes were a little tight but nothing Dean couldn’t live with. He dropped the towel in the laundry hamper and left his clothes hanging over the curtain rod to dry out a little bit. He then went in search of Cas. As he walked, he studied the pictures that were hanging from the wall.

There was one of Cas with his arms thrown around another man that was almost identical to Cas. The only difference was the eye color, Cas’ were a dark ocean blue and the other man’s was a bright electric blue. Another picture that caught Dean’s attention was one showing two large black wolves sitting side by side. Their eyes were eerily familiar and Dean found the two wolves stunning.

Dean walked into the kitchen to find the man standing in front of the sink, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a black t-shirt. Dean felt his cock jerk at the sight. “Down boy,” he muttered to himself. Dean knew before he left, he was definitely going to get Cas’ number.

Cas looked over his shoulder and smiled. “How are you feeling?”

Dean almost melted from the look that the other man flashed in his direction. “A lot better now that I’m warm, that’s for sure. Thanks for letting me use the shower and giving me some clothes to borrow,” Dean said as he took a seat at the table.

Cas turned around and leaned against the counter. “You’re welcome. Nobody should have to be out in that kind of weather. Tomorrow, if you want, I can tow your car to the garage.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can just call Bobby and he will send someone out. One perk of working there means I won’t have to pay for towing fees.” Dean paused before adding, “It’s the parts that are gonna cost me. I love having a vintage car, but the parts for them ain’t cheap.”

Something flickered in the depths of Cas’ eyes, but it disappeared before Dean could put a name to it. “I really don’t mind towing your car; It’s the least I could do. Besides, I needed to go into town anyway.”

Dean stared at him curiously. “What do you mean you owe me? Pretty sure, I owe you, not the other way around.”

Cas dropped his gaze. “I, uh, just meant… I, uh, owed you for your… uh company. It’s nice to not have to spend such a gloomy night alone.”

“O...k. You alright Cas?” Dean asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Cas cocked his head. “Cas?”

“Oh, sorry. Your name is just a mouthful. I can say your whole name, though, if it bothers you,” Dean offered.

“No, it’s fine. Nobody has ever given me a nickname.” Cas moved to the fridge and opened the door.

Dean’s eyes went wide when he saw all the bags inside the refrigerator. Besides a six pack of beer and a few cans of soda, nothing but meat lined the shelves. His eyes jumped to Cas’ back as he felt his blood run cold. “Oh shit, this dude is like some kind of psycho murderer,” Dean screamed inside of his head.

He was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of a door shutting. “Dean, are you ok?”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Uh, is there any reason you have a fridge full of bags of meat?”

Cas chuckled softly. “I’m a hunter Dean. All of that is from the deer I killed recently. My freezer quit working, and I have nowhere else to put it. That’s why I have to go to town tomorrow, to buy a new freezer.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Dean replied, his body relaxing at the explanation. He knew he should be more cautious about Cas, but something about the man was making him lower his guard.

“What, did you think I was some crazy serial killer?” Cas asked..

“What,” Dean scoffed. “No, of course not!” He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks at his embarrassment. 

Cas obviously didn’t buy Dean’s lie. “Mhm,” he hummed as he handed a beer to Dean.

He took the beer from Cas and their hands gently slid against each other. Dean gasped as a jolt of lightning sparked through his body. Not only that, but Cas’ skin was like touching a space heater! Dean pulled his hand away and studied his fingertips, afraid to find them burned. He looked back at Cas and said, “Uh, Cas, I think you might be running a fever. You’re feeling a little warm there buddy.”

Cas straightened and held his hand to his forehead. “No, I feel fine Dean.”

Dean eyed Cas warily. “Are you sure because you feel like a fucking furnace! Your temperature must be at least a hundred and one.”

Cas smiled softly and took a sip from his Coke. “I assure you, Dean, I’m fine.”

“Dude, I swear if you pass out on me, I’m gonna be pissed at you,” Dean warned.

“I’m not going to pass out on you. Would you like to watch some TV before we head to bed?” Cas asked.

Dean still didn’t believe the other man but there wasn’t much he could do. He took a drag of his beer before replying, “Sure, why not.”

They headed into the living room and Dean took a seat on the couch. He sat his beer on the table and noticed something strange. He picked up the clump of black fur and stared at it. He looked down at the couch and noticed more strands of black fur. “Cas, you got a dog or a cat?”

“No, why would you ask such a thing?” Cas asked as he grabbed the remote from the TV stand.

Before Dean could respond, a lone howl shattered the silence. Cas immediately looked out the window and frowned. He mumbled something under his breath before looking at Dean. “I will be right back. I need to go check on something.”

He was gone without giving Dean a chance to say anything. After Cas had left, Dean looked back down at the fur clutched tightly in his hand. He started thinking about everything that had happened that night. 

First, he had seen a large wolf run across the road. Second, he had woken up in his car to a pair of bright blue eyes. Third, within minutes, Cas was knocking on his window, offering him a place to stay for the night. Fourth, Cas had a near identical eye color as the creature outside of his car. Come to think about it, the men and the wolves in the pictures had the same eye colors as well. Fifth, Cas had a fridge full of meat. Sixth, the man had a ridiculously high body temperature and was unfazed by it. Now, Dean finds animal fur and yet Cas claims he doesn’t have a pet. Not to mention the fact that as soon as Cas heard the howl, he said he had to go.

Dean dropped the fur as he put all the pieces together. “No fucking way,” he whispered to himself.

Everybody grows up hearing the tales of the shifters: humans who were blessed to have their souls intertwined with that of an animal, giving the person the ability to turn into that animal at will. Shifters were rare and reclusive, often living in places that resembled the homes of the animals they could turn into. Every so often, a shifter would take a human as their mate.

To be mated to a shifter was considered a great honor. Once mated, the human would go through a transition phase, turning them into a shifter as well. Shifters had heightened abilities, including better smell, sharper hearing, and increased strength. They also tended to have a higher body temperature than a regular human.

Dean looked up at the sound of footsteps. Cas came strolling back into the living room, a look of annoyance on his face. “Sorry about that. I forgot to call my brother about something.” He noticed Dean’s panicked look and asked, “Are you ok Dean?”

Dean jumped to his feet. “No, not really! I know what you are!”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Cas said slowly. “What do you mean you know what I am?”

“You’re a shifter,” Dean accused.

Cas came to a halt, standing to his fullest height. He ground his teeth together before asking, “What makes you say that?”

“There’s a lot,” Dean exclaimed. “But maybe the fact that you run extremely warm, have a fridge full of meat, and have black fur in your house even though you claim not to have a dog or cat! Not to mention, I wake up to see a pair of blue eyes staring at me and the next minute you show up, also with blue eyes! I even bet you were the wolf that ran across the road!” Dean gasped. “Is that what you meant when you said it was the least you could do when you offered to tow my car since you’re the reason I crashed in the first place.”

Cas sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. He scrubbed his hand down his face before looking back at Dean. “Yes, I was the wolf that ran across the road, causing you to hit the tree. I was chasing after my brother and I thought you were further down the road than what you were. I’m sorry for causing you to crash. I will be more than willing to pay for any damage done to your car.”

Dean fell back onto the couch. Even if he had predicted the truth, he still wasn’t prepared to actually be told he was right. “Son of a bitch!”

Cas slowly walked towards Dean before taking a seat next to him. He smirked as he said, “I told you the wolf was probably happy that you didn’t run it over.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “I bet! Dude, I’m happy I didn’t hit you. Although Baby might not be so happy.”

Cas scrunched his eyes in confusion. “Baby?”

“My car that I crashed trying to avoid hitting your furry butt,” Dean explained.

Cas flinched. “I really am sorry and so is my brother. He said if there’s anything you need, he would be more than willing to help.”

“Your brother? When the heck did you talk to him?” Dean asked sharply. Cas gave him a deadpan look before Dean realized, “That was the wolf who howled, wasn’t it?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, he wanted to make sure you were alright. As soon as you crashed, I ran back here to pick my truck up.”

“Why the hell were you staring at me in your wolf form?” Dean asked.

“I wasn’t. That was my twin, Jimmy. He stayed behind to watch over you while I came back to get my truck since my house is closer. I apologize that he scared you. He told me if he didn’t already have a mate, he would definitely be interested in you,” Cas said, his cheeks stained a bright pink.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, he shouldn’t be. I’m not worth being mated to, especially to a shifter. Hell, the only relationships I’ve had for the past few years are random bar hookups. I’m not worth anything long term.”

“Don’t say such a thing. You seem like a wonderful person Dean,” Cas admonished. 

“The truth is the truth. I’m nothing special. I’m barely making it through life Cas. If it wasn’t for Sam, I’m not sure where I’d be. He’s the only reason I’m still trudging,” Dean explained.

Dean jumped when Cas grabbed his shoulder, the heat of his skin seeping through Dean’s thin shirt. “Dean, what you’re doing for your brother is amazing! You’re giving up your own happiness so that Sam can have his. I don’t know many people who would do that.”

“That’s because he’s worth it; even my dad thought the same thing. If he had had any money left over after he died, it would have gone to Sam. He didn’t intend to leave me a single dime, saying that a grunt didn’t need it,” Dean said bitterly. “The only problem was, his debt far exceeded his savings, so I got stuck paying off the ten thousand dollars worth of debt he still had.”

Cas growled low in his throat and it caused goosebumps to erupt on Dean’s skin. “Your father doesn’t sound like he was a very good man. You are not a grunt Dean, and you deserve so much better than the hand you’ve been dealt. You should have never been forced to drop out of school to take care of your brother. You shouldn’t be having to pay off your father’s debt. None of that should have fallen on your shoulders.”

Dean scoffed and looked at his hands. “It doesn’t really matter if I should have to deal with it or not because I do. That’s my life. Work two jobs, go home to a shitty apartment, and do it all over again the next day.”

“Does Sam know any of this?” Cas asked softly.

Dean’s head snapped up. “NO! When we meet up, I fly out to meet him. He offered to help pay dad’s debt, but I refused. He offered to help pay his tuition with the money he earns from his job, but again I refused. He deserved to be able to spend that money on himself. I know he hates living in the dorms. Maybe he can save up enough to get a small apartment next year.”

Cas moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder to his cheek, forcing Dean to look at him. “See, how could you think yourself unworthy of good things? It seems to me that you’re extremely self-sacrificing and Sam is lucky to have you for a brother. Your father just didn’t realize what he had in front of him: an amazing and loyal son.”

Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek before throwing himself into the shifter’s arms. He buried his nose in Cas’ neck, inhaling the soothing scent of Cas’ cologne: a combination of sandalwood and jasmine. He felt Cas wrap his arms around Dean’s waist and pull him in even closer to his body. “Shh, Dean, it’s ok. You’re ok,” Cas whispered softly.

“My dad hardly ever said a nice thing to me in the twenty five years of my life and in one night, you’ve said dozens of nice things. You’re too good to be true, Cas,” Dean mumbled against the shifter’s neck.

“You deserve to be told nice things Dean,” Cas replied softly. “If you’ll let me, I’ll tell you- hell I’ll give you nice things for the rest of your life.”

Dean pulled back. “What do you mean?”

Cas’ whole body went rigid. He nibbled on his lip before finally saying, “Please tell me you have felt a connection between us since we met.”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, yeah I have. Something about you makes you really easy to talk to. Not to mention, you’re fucking gorgeous and I’ve been attracted to you and that damn cologne of yours from the moment I got a good look at you in your truck.”

Cas tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “Dean, I’m not wearing any cologne. As a shifter, my sense of smell is already heightened. Most colognes are overpowering and make me sneeze.”

“Ok, so then what air freshener do you use because it’s the best smelling thing ever.”

Cas frowned. “Dean, I don’t use air fresheners either for the same reason.”

Dean shook his head. “Ok, so then why does everything around you smell like sandalwood and jasmine?”

A soft smile spread across Cas’ face. “Dean, that’s my scent. Every person in the world has their own unique scent.”

“Um, dude, I’ve never smelled another person before,” Dean said, looking at Cas as if he was crazy.

“Well, of course you haven’t,” Cas said with a roll of his eyes. “Humans don’t have a strong enough sense of smell like shifters do.”

“Then why can I smell you?”

Cas was silent for so long, Dean wondered if he was going to answer. Finally, in barely more than a whisper, Cas replied, “Because we’re true mates.”

Dean wheeled back as if he had been slapped. “NO! NO! Cas, no!” All shifters had a true mate, the one person that was their perfect other half. There was no way Dea was that for Cas.

At Dean’s words, the shifter crumbled in on himself. He slid from the couch, saying, “I’m sorry Dean. I don’t blame you for being upset.”

“Cas, wait,” Dean cried as he reached for the man’s wrist. “Why are you sorry? I should be the one apologizing!”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault that the wolf inside of me has claimed you for its own,” Cas said remorsefully.

“Cas, I’m sorry that your wolf was dumb enough to choose me! I told you, I’m not… I’m not special enough to have the honor of mating with a shifter. You deserve someone who is as amazing as you and… that’s not me,” Dean said, letting Cas’ wrist drop out of his grasp. 

Cas turned around, fire burning in his eyes. He grabbed Dean by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Dean was a little afraid of the man standing before him; Cas looked every bit the predator that he was. “You are infuriatingly stubborn! I already told you that what you’re doing for Sam is something you should be proud of. You might not have much in this world Dean but it’s not because you’ve thrown your life away! It’s because you’re sacrificing it so that your brother can have a better one! That is not something to be ashamed of!”

“Cas, I work two jobs and live in a shitty apartment! If I’m not working, I’m probably sleeping because I’m exhausted from working eighty to ninety hours a week! I hardly ever go out with friends because I can’t afford it or I’m just too tired. Hell, I took a week-long vacation to go see Sam and am already figuring out a way to take some extra shifts to compensate for the lost hours.” The fight left Dean and he slumped against the shifter. He closed his eyes and took in another deep breath of Cas’ calming scent. “I have nothing to offer you.”

Cas petted the back of Dean’s hair. “Dean, I’m not asking for anything. I don’t care how much money you make or what kind of apartment you live in. Your worth isn’t measured by those things. It’s measured by what’s on the inside and trust me, you have a heart of gold. Just give me- give us a chance. My wolf has never steered me wrong before.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “I think that record is about to be broken.”

“Does that mean you’ll give us a shot?” Cas asked, afraid to get his hopes up.

Dean looked up at Cas and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. “Against my better judgement, yeah. I’ll give us a chance.”

A few months later, it was a dark and stormy night. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed. The rain had quit minutes ago and now the plants were wet and the ground was soggy. Most creatures were inside their homes, waiting for the rays of sunlight to dry the land up.

Two creatures were unlike the rest, running through the forest, uncaring that their pelts were getting wet and covered with mud. A large tan wolf was sprinting as fast as he could, a slightly smaller black wolf hot on his heels. Dean put on a burst of speed when he saw their cabin appear in his line of sight. He had just landed on the porch when Cas barrelled into him from behind.

They both crashed to the ground before shifting back to their human forms. Cas straddled Dean’s hips and looked down at the man he adored. “I told you I would catch you my love.”

Dean laughed as he stared at his mate. Even soaking wet, Cas was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on. “When you start gaining weight because you’re pregnant, let’s see if you’re as fast.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I would still be faster. Those bow legs I love so much slow you down, which is good for me.”

Dean shoved at Cas’ chest playfully. “Keep gloating and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight!”

Cas leaned over and nipped at Dean’s lips before soothing the sting with a kiss. “Don’t make empty threats love. We both know you can’t sleep without my knot buried deep in your ass.”

Dean shivered at Cas’ voice, lust slowly thickening it. He felt a trickle of slick slide from his entrance as his own apple and pine scent thickened with arousal.  He wound his arms around Cas’ neck and pulled him closer, sealing their mouths together. Their tongues slid against each other as their hands roamed wet skin. “Love you Cas.”

“I love you too Dean. I’m so glad I chased Jimmy across the road all those months ago,” Cas replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad I crashed Baby into that tree. I can’t imagine life without you,” Dean said, pressing another kiss to his mate’s lips.

In the ten months they had been together, Cas had helped Dean turn his life around. Cas was a well published author under the pseudonym Emanuel Milton, one of Dean’s favorites actually, and had more money than he knew what to do with. He had helped Dean pay off his dad’s debt and get Sam set up in his own apartment. Dean was now living with Cas, beyond glad to be out of his shitty apartment. He still worked full time at the garage since he loved being a mechanic but only worked the weekends at the Roadhouse. Cas told him he didn’t have to work at all, but Dean couldn’t just sit around all day.

The best part of being with Cas was being turned into a shifter himself. Dean loved his wolf form and would spend much of his free time running through the woods with Cas. There had been a few things that had taken some getting used to, though. Shifters had secondary genders: Alpha and Omega. Cas was an Alpha and Dean had presented as an Omega meaning he produced his own lubrication and would have the ability to get pregnant. That had taken him a few days to come to terms with.

Dean looked at his stomach, already starting to show and couldn’t believe how freaked out he had been. He let his hand rest on the slight bump and smiled, excited to be growing a new life inside of him. He couldn’t wait to meet their pup.

Cas laid his palm over Dean’s. “What are you thinking about my love?”

Dean smiled. “Just how happy I am. I can’t believe I got the man of my dreams and in about seven months, we’ll have a pup of our own. It seems like I deserve nice things after all.”

“I told you, love, that I would give you nice things for the rest of your life if you would let me,” Cas said softly.

“Thanks for keeping your promise,” Dean whispered before pulling Cas into another heated kiss. 

“Thank goodness for dark and stormy nights,” Cas replied before he sealed their mouths together.