#i might attempt to make him in cas soon

[birdietrait]

i’m starting a little solo homebrew game using cities without number, ironsworn: starforged and mythic 😌

[saturnsorbits]

LiSyK: The Selection

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

Next Chapter ->

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[lovebugism]

hi! not sure if you’re still taking requests but if u are may i request the prompt “it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” with reader comforting steve? tysm <3

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)!

Steve tends to feel things really, really deeply.

When Nancy called him bullshit at a Halloween party and ran off with the weird kid from chemistry class a day later, he felt like it was the end of the world. His world, at least. 

He thought it was going to stick with him for the rest of his life — that she was right, that he really was bullshit, and that that truth would haunt him forever. It did. It does. It lurks over his shoulder sometimes, like a shadow or a sleeping dragon.

And when Robin’s mad at him, like mad mad, it makes him feel like dying. 

One time he overestimated how tired he was after a shift and forgot to pick Robin up after band practice. He was startled awake from his nap out of nowhere, like his brain knew he’d done something wrong, and realized he was supposed to drive her home over an hour ago. 

He found her standing with her trumpet case under the awning in a futile attempt to hide from the pouring rain. She didn’t talk to him for days — not during the drive, not at work the next day, not until he was milliseconds from groveling at her feet for her forgiveness.

But it’s different when he’s happy. He’s got you and he’s got Dustin, and he loves the two of you so much it feels like he might burst sometimes. Adoration spills from his pores like so many little rays of sunshine, leaves him a grinning and gushing thing in the place of a teenage boy. 

It’s so much worse with you, though. Because sometimes he feels like his heart beats only for you — that it follows the rhythm of your pulse, that it will stop when yours does. 

He can taste every word that spills from your mouth, the one’s coated in venom and honey alike. He can hear every sound of your soul, too. It’s the crackles of an old record player when you’re content, autumn leaves crunching when you’re angry, and the sounds of a deep, deep ocean when you’re sad.

You’re embedded into every fiber of his being. You’ve entwined yourself with him without even realizing it, tucked yourself into the outer regions of his bleeding heart with a fuzzy blanket and a good book — no sign of leaving any time soon.

He loves you hard, too hard. So hard there’s no breath without you.

So when Vecna almost kills you, it feels a little like his life is ending.

He watches you float in midair, his feet still stuck on the ground, totally helpless. 

Tears spill from your glazed-over eyes and glitter beneath streams of moonlight. Your body is slack, but your fingers tremble and your brows twitch and your chin quivers. You’re not all there, but you can feel every ounce of fear like an ice-cold bath, painful and numbing all at once. Because you know that you’re going to die. And that there’s nothing anyone else can do to stop it.

Dustin shouts for help into his supercomm, begs for Max to bring her walkman or steal the nearest boombox they see and bring it with them to Lover’s Lake. They’re too far away, though, on the other side of town in Nancy’s too slow Station Wagon picking up more hunting supplies to kill the son of a bitch trying to kill you. He knows they won’t make it in time.

Steve shakes your shoulders and shouts in your face, but you still don’t wake. He keeps a hold of you until you’re out of his reach entirely — rising and rising and rising until you’re six feet off the ground. Then he’s just begging, shouting pleas up at you, at god, at Vecna — the shriveled skin creep doing this to you. 

“Please,” he shouts to everyone and no one all at once. “Please, just— you gotta wake up, okay? I’ll be better, I’ll be so much better, I promise. I’ll listen to all the music you like, watch all the movies you want — even the ones that suck — I’ll be a better boyfriend, okay? You just— You need to wake up!”

You don’t. 

You just keep on crying, like you can hear him in whatever world Vecna’s sucked you into. Eyes fluttering, neck jerking, lips trembling. You succumb completely to the monster’s curse.

It’s Eddie that saves you.

He rushes to the stolen R.V. for his guitar, the one Steve said made him look like he was overcompensating for something, the one that’s about to save your life. “What’s her favorite song?” the boy urges as he slips the strap over his head with pale and trembling fingers.

Steve looks over at his shoulder at him. It’s hard to see through the stinging tears. “Wh— What—” He can’t form words. Or thoughts, really. The only thing going through his head is that you’re about to die, that he’s about to lose you forever. It clouds his mind like thick black smoke.

“Her favorite song?” Eddie snaps. “What is it?”

He scrambles to answer. “Uh, it’s uh— it’s Take— Take On Me… Do you know that one?”

“No,” the boy answers honestly. “But I can try.”

That’s all they can do for now. Try. Hope.

He puts his fingers to the strings, trying to find the right placements, but it’s hard when you don’t know how to play the song and you’re shaking that you’re fucking freezing. Eddie’s forced to play it by ear and tells Steve that it won’t sound exactly right and that it won’t be loud without his amp. 

It takes him a moment to find the melody, but Steve hears it the second it comes — the synth-y da-da-da-dum, da-da-dah, da-da-da-da-dum’s that were practically engrained in his psyche after he heard it on the radio the millionth time.

You weren’t as afflicted by the earworm as he was. You loved it. 

The song came out the year the two of you started dating, so all he heard for months was that catchy beat and even catchier falsetto. You played it on the jukebox when you went to the diner, popped the tape into your radio whenever he was over at your place, requested for it to be played virtually wherever you went.

You hear the song from where you’re stuck in your own head. The strums of the guitar are quiet and a little out of tune, but the uncanny notes make sense when you’re trapped in a world that isn’t really your world. Suddenly you don’t see Vecna or his claw in your face — just Steve, Steve, Steve.

He’s with you at the diner with whipped cream on his chin, making fun of you for singing to the song so off-key. He’s with you in your childhood bedroom, spinning you around and singing all the high notes with you. He’s with you at Enzo’s, the fanciest place in Hawkins for your anniversary, and slips the mini-orchestra a hundred-dollar bill to play the song for you.

Suddenly, you’re on the ground again — back in Hawkins — and gasping for breath in his arms. You can’t see him from where he’s got his face tucked into your neck, but you can feel the scarily rapid beat of his heart and the way it matches your own.

Steve sobs into you, uncaring about how loud he is or how his snot and tears stain your t-shirt. Because he almost fucking lost you. And, for a split second, he tried to think of what a life without you would look like. He quickly came up short. There was nothing — no light, no sound, no music — just darkness. A void. 

Sometimes, he thinks he would’ve died with you that night.

Vecna is dead within the next twenty-four hours after the fact. You and Nancy take turns shooting bullets in the pale patchy skin of his chest where his heart’s supposed to be while Steve and Robin throw hand-made bombs in his direction. He trips and stumbles out the window while the rotting basement erupts into flames. There’s nothing left but ashes.

Steve doesn’t feel a thing for a little while after that, just the acute urge to protect the group of you even though the boogeyman is long gone. 

He doesn’t let go of you for days, always holding onto some part of you, because he’s terrified of you slipping away again. 

He lets Dustin sleep at his place when the boy asks, but it’s for his own peace of mind more than anything else. He doesn’t let the boy out of his sight until his mom gets concerned about him. 

He drives forty-five minutes to the hospital every day for two weeks with you so you can visit Max and Lucas, always with two peanut butter jelly sandwiches for them — just in case.

He’s on auto-pilot for a while. He just keeps on taking care of everyone else because it distracts him from himself — from his own inner turmoil, from the horrors he saw that night, from the boogeyman still in his closet.

It takes you a month for you to tell him what you saw. You were a lot like him in that way, still trying to hide from it all. You would’ve been more than happy if you could squish your great big problem into a tiny little ball that you could stomp underneath your feet and forget about completely. 

But that’s not how life works. 

The thing just swells and swells and swells until it takes everything in you to stay sane.

You sit Steve down on his bed and curl into his lap — knees to your chest, head tucked beneath his chin. And you tell him about it. Everything.

You tell him that Vecna showed you Brad, the boyfriend you had before Steve. It was a replay of the last night you saw him parked at Lover’s Lake, the very same place you had been when Vecna almost took you. You’re sitting in his passenger seat and he’s trying to feel you up. “Billy’s girlfriend lets him fuck her all the time,” he gripes when you swat his hand from your thigh.

“Then maybe go fuck Billy’s girlfriend,” you shoot back. 

It’s the last thing you’d ever said to him before storming off and catching the late bus back home. He went missing the next day; his car still there, but no sign of the boy himself.

Vecna shows you everything you’d been making yourself sick over for years, tells you exactly what happened to him that night.

A demogorgon appears in thin air and snatches the boy, takes him to the Upside Down like he’s some kind of light night snack. The thing doesn’t eat him, though, just plays with its food for a while until it gets bored and lets him rot. Brad was down there, for days, beggingfor someone to save him. Help never came, though. Just the slow, slow hand of death. 

“You never even looked for him…” you recite the words Vecna said to you, voice much softer than his cruel baritone one. “You let him rot down there while you threw yourself at a boy that didn’t even want you…”

Steve eyes squeeze shut then, like he’s trying to hide from your words. It’s about as effective as those idiots in horror movies who try to hide under their bedsheets from demons.

You sought refuge in Steve that night and many others, when Brad was acting especially douchebag-y. It was innocent at first. He was your friend. But somewhere down the line, you realized that you had bigger feelings for him than you ever did for your boyfriend. Steve, meanwhile, was still caught in the web of his complicated feelings for Nancy.

It wasn’t until you got kidnapped by Russian soldiers that he realized how much he loved you.

There’s just something about the end of the world that makes a person see clearly again.

Everything seems to hit him exactly a week later. 

He’d done a pretty good job at hiding it all — the nightmares, the panic attacks, the sleepless nights. He hid that all from you because you were recovering too. He didn’t think it was fair to dump all his hurt on you while you were still trying to get back to normal.

You noticed it very quickly, though, that Steve didn’t seem to be very affected by any of it. 

He was so nonchalant about everything, the kind of casual only a person who was aching could pull off. 

And he’d get real reserved at times, uncharacteristically quiet, and you’d ask him if he was okay. He’d scoffed and say he was fine —of course I’m okay, what do you mean? — while his cheek speckled with red and he blinked back glassy tears. 

You’d try to hug him and he’d let you, but kept shrugging off your concern — I’m fine, babe. I promise. I’m not the one who almost died.

Steve did that a lot. Made it seem like his problems didn’t mean as much because they weren’t as big as yours or Max’s or Eddie’s. He convinced himself that they didn’t. Why should he be upset when he didn’t have to meet the monster face to face or live through something traumatic all over again? What does he have to cry about?

But when he sleeps all he sees in you — in that spot at Lover’s Lake, succumbing to Vecna’s curse, while the rest of them try like hell to bring you back. In his nightmares, they never do. He watches your bones break one by one, piercing cracks in the quiet night that he can feel in his chest, before you fall limply to the ground again.

He wakes with a gasping breath, the same way you had all the time ago. You’re sleeping peacefully beside him, hair wild and face smushed into your pillow, but he can’t seem to get the vision out of his head — of your mangled body and sucked-out sockets. He stumbles off to the bathroom on tired and trembling legs.

You wake to the door slamming shut and stir at the sound of the faucet turning on. 

Light spills from the crack underneath the door, bright in the darkness of your bedroom. You watch Steve’s shadow with bleary eyes, how it stands in one place for a moment and then paces back and forth.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you tiptoe to the door, but don’t do anything when you reach it. You just wait, listen. 

Steve mumbles something to himself that you can’t quite make out — you’re okay, stop being such a baby, jesus… is all you can hear. He sniffles as his feet pad the length of the tiled bathroom floor. It doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s crying.

Your knock upon the door is a soft one. You don’t want to startle him. The second he realizes you’re outside the door, he freezes.

“Stevie…” you call gently out for him. “Are you okay?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah—” Then again. “Yeah, I’m fine… Go back to bed.”

“Are you sure?” you press. “Do you want me to get anything for you?”

The boy has to take a deep breath in to stop himself from snapping at you. He’s angry at himself more than anything — for hiding, for failing at hiding. He runs two anxious hands through his hair and plants himself along the ceramic edge of the bathtub. 

“I’m sure. Just… Just go back to bed, okay?”

You don’t listen. You just slide along the door frame until you’re sat on the carpeted floor of your bedroom. Steve can hear your shuffling outside.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay. You know that, right?” you ask him through the door.

Steve puts his face in his hands before he can catch his scrunching face in the mirror. Just when he thought he wasn’t going to cry, here you come, pulling this shit. 

“I know,” he answers tightly, muffled through his palms. He rubs them up and down his face once, twice, and then a third time before throwing his hands into his lap. “But I’m fine, okay? Seriously.”

“You can cry in front of me, Steve. It’s okay. You don’t have to— You don’t have to go through this shit alone, you know? I’m here. I’m right here, okay? Let me help you.”

It’s that reminder that does him in; the assurance that you’re here and not a disfigured mess in the tall grass of Lover’s Lake. A sob spills from his mouth too abruptly for him to stop it.

“Steve…” you call for him again, heartbreaking on the other side of the door.

“I’m almost lost you,” he cries, more than himself than to you, then sniffles. “I’m almost fucking lost you.”

“But you didn’t. I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere, Steve Harrington. The universe is gonna have to try a whole lot harder to keep me away from you.”

He manages a laugh through his tears. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” you quip. “If Vecna couldn’t stop me from being with you, nothing will.”

The thought of that warms him. He realizes it’s not the universe keeping the two of you together, not fate or some higher power in the clouds. It’s love. It’s all the love the two of you have got for each other, stronger than any demogorgon or Russian soldier or dark wizard. And it’s love that’s gonna hold the two of you together for the next several decades, until you’re old and wrinkly and ugly. 

But Steve won’t think you’re ugly. He’ll think you’re as beautiful as the first moment he saw you — throwing up in the bushes outside Tina’s house after your first high school party.

You rise quickly when the door opens. Steve stands in front of you, eyes puffy and face red and smiling gently down at you anyway. “I love the shit outta you, you know that?” is all he can think to say. Because that’s all that he feels in that moment.

“Of course, I know that,” you grin up at him. Your hands rise to cup his jaw, thumbs swiping at his tear-stained cheeks. Your browns pinch in concern. “You okay?”

For the first time, he’s honest.

“No…” he murmurs with the soft shake of his head. His eyes dart away from yours and to the floor where his and your twenty toes stand, still on the ground, not floating in thin air.

“No— I… I don’t think I am,” he confesses softly. His tired, sad, and heavy honey eyes flit back up to yours again. “But I will be.”

You nod until your words catch up to you. “Yeah. Yeah, you will.”

“If only out of pure spite of all the monsters to all the monsters trying to destroy our lives.”

“They’re gone now,” you promise, like a parent who’s checked under their child’s bed for shadows and ghosts. It works well enough. Here, with his face in your hands and standing in your shared bedroom, he’s never felt safer.

“Can you… Can you hold me?” he wonders, a little meekly because he feels like an idiot saying them. Then he feels even more like an idiot for feeling like an idiot. You’re his girlfriend, after all, cuddles sort of came with the package.

“Of course,” you answer without thinking twice. You grab his hand and tug him back to the bed almost immediately. “I’ll hold you for the rest of our fucking lives, Harrington, you know that.”

The two of you settle into the mattress. Steve uses you like a pillow, wraps all of his limbs around you and tucks his face into your neck. Your scent is a familiar one, warm and comforting, like home. “I like the sound of that,” he mumbles into your shoulder after a moment of quiet.

“Well, buckle in, baby. ‘Cause I got you for the next, like, six decades.”

You feel his smile form against your skin as Steve tucks himself inside your soul.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Birthday Pie

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

SPOILERS! set between seasons 7 and 8 of supernatural, there are spoilers for both these seasons

summary: you celebrate his birthday even when he’s gone

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.9k

warnings: sad, not at all a happy birthday for our beloved lil guy, language

author’s note: i’m sorry, okay? i’ve had this idea in my head for months and decided that today is a good day to release it? anyway, happy 45th birthday dean winchester! love you and very glad you’re alive and well and the series finale never happened! :)

January 24th, 2013 — Dean’s 34th Birthday.

You were barely able to drag yourself out of bed and into the living room where you were now seated and watching TV. It didn’t matter what was on, you weren’t paying attention anyway. Your mind was completely focused on Dean. Your beloved Dean; who shouldn’t be wherever the fuck he was but instead safe in your arms.

He shouldn’t be spending his birthday terrified, missing you and his brother. He should be spending it with you, Sam, and Cas.

Sure, he wasn’t really the birthday party type of guy but each year since you met him you’d gotten him a pie and put candles in it for him to blow out. It’d started as a half-assed attempt to put a smile on his face when you learned it was his birthday and you couldn’t find a cake at the store.

He’d loved it.

“How’d you know I’d rather have pie?” he had asked, his face lighting up even more when you put two candles—a two and a four—in the center.

“I…had a feeling.” You had shrugged it off as not a big deal but deep down you both knew how much it meant to him.

And each year since then—come rain, shine, monsters, or the apocalypse—you made it your job to get Dean Winchester a pie on his birthday.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks, joining the half-dried ones there already. You hadn’t been sad on Dean’s birthday since his year before hell. But it was different then, you had him next to you and you were savoring every second. You might have been terrified of what would soon happen, but you were still with him.

**

“If you’re not already aware, Dean,” Castiel started, “you turn thirty-four today.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused. “Cas we—”

“Granted time seems to be passing differently here, but on earth it is currently your birthday.”

“Happy birthday, brother,” Benny joked.

“Yeah real fuckin’ happy,” Dean scoffed. “We’re stuck killing our way through this fuckin’ nightmare while the love of my life is spending my birthday alone.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Dean,” Cas assured him. “She has Sam, he’ll look after her until we get back.”

“No, you don’t get it. Birthdays were…they were our thing, if that makes any goddamn sense.”

**

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you smiled, placing the pie in front of him.

“Twenty-six! God, that sounds old,” Dean laughed a little.

“You’re kidding right?” you asked after singing for him as he blew out the candles.

“What?”

“Twenty six may sound old to you, but trust me you are still fuckin’ adorable.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He grinned.

“You wanna do the honors, cutie?” you asked, handing him the kitchen knife.

“Gladly, sweetheart,” he said, taking it from you. You watched him cut a slice for you then an even bigger slice for himself.

“Dean,” you started as you watched him begin eating the pie. “I love you.”

He stopped eating and looked at you; “What?”

“I know there’s a lot about your life you haven’t told me, you’re lore you could call it, but I need you to know that I really do love you, Dean Winchester.”

“But how? I mean, I’m not exactly an open book and there’s no way…” he trailed off.

“No way, what?”

“There’s no way in hell you’d feel this way if you learned everything about me.”

Your heart broke at his words, and your expression definitely showed it.

“The amount of pure love I have for you is beyond measurable, Dean. And I might be crazy for saying this, and feeling this, but there is truly nothing you could say or do that would make me stop.”

“Really?” he asked quietly, as if he was scared to press his luck.

You nodded with a soft smile; “Really.”

“Well, look I’m not really one for…that…but I do…I do feel that way about you too. I guess what I’m saying is, uh, right back at cha?”

“See to any normal person that would sound like the ramblings of a crazy man,” you said, his smile only growing. “But to me? Absolute poetry.” You leaned over and kissed him. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

He simply kissed you back, smiling against your lips.

**

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you whispered, blowing out the candles on the small pie you’d bought. It was a one-person pie because you knew if you bought a regular one that at least three-quarters would not have been eaten.

You took out the candles and picked up your fork. Staring down at the desert, you let more tears fall.

“It shouldn’t be this hard to eat a fuckin’ pie,” you laughed humorously. Your phone rang next to you and you answered it; “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey,” he sighed. “I just wanted to call and check up on you. It being Dean’s birthday and all, I figured you might…you know…”

“Be huddled up in bed sobbing my eyes out?” you said.

“Yeah…”

“I’m holding it together Sammy, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“I always worry about you, you know that.”

There was a short pause in the conversation as you took a deep breath and let a few more tears fall; “I miss him, Sammy,” you admitted. “I just really miss him.”

[noicyleech]

Dean ignores his brother’s comment, spinning on his heel, ready to let himself sink back into the gorgeous blue of Castiel’s eyes. He hears a cry of pain. The frail illusion of victory falls apart in an instant at the sight in front of him. The angel’s wings are tense, arched into an unnatural position. Every feather quakes, shaking uncontrollably as Cas falls to his knees and brings his head down to rest on the floor. His hands shoot to his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Another agonized sound rips out of him.

The dungeon’s door has slammed close once more. There’s a muffled shout coming from behind it. The worry coats every word Sam throws their way, but to Dean it all sounds like an incomprehensible slur. He’s rooted to the ground, his muscles strung so tight it hurts. He watches as two more sets of wings sprout from the angel’s back, seizing just as aggressively as the original pair. The dungeon lights up as the power Castiel can no longer contain builds up endlessly, slowly breaking free from its restraints. Cracks start to form on the exposed skin of his vessel, like he’s made of glass and someone is repeatedly beating him with a hammer in hopes of shattering him completely.

At first Dean thinks it’s blood that begins to seep through the fractures, but then it starts to glow. The grace - or the antichrist’s powers, its hard to tell - tears through his skin and casts a wine red light on every surface it can reach.

Feathers are falling, shaken loose by the restless movement of the appendages. They disintegrate as soon as they make contact with the floor. There is no way of telling where Castiel’s screams begin, nor where they end. The pain seems to go on for hours, seconds passing at a snail’s pace with no end in sight. Soon the light coming from Cas, the light that is breaking him to pieces, will be too blinding to look at. Still Dean can’t turn away, can’t close his eyes. So he prays.

He sends desperate prayers into the world in a last ditch attempt. ‘Please’

He’s not sure what or who he is praying to. He doesn’t care. He will take anything, welcome anyone who is willing to help him. He’d do anything. ‘I need him’

Tears are pestering the back of his eyes, so he lets them flow. They sting, burning the dry surface. He won’t close them. He’s lost Castiel’s figure to the light, but he knows exactly where the angel is. He can feel him. Cas is no longer screaming, probably because he can’t. There is a passing thought that maybe, maybe he can’t scream anymore because he’s already gone. ‘Please. This isn’t fair’

His vision turns spotty. Dean fights it for as long as he can but his body forces him to close his eyes on the instinct to survive. It’s barely a blink, but when he opens them the dungeon is cast in darkness. The previously blinding light is gone, and he is alone. Dean doesn’t feel it when his knees hit the floor, or when he shouts his throat raw. He doesn’t register when Sam rushes in and crouches in front of him. He can see Sam’s lips move but can’t make sense of what he’s saying, doesn’t fight it when he’s pulled to his feet and dragged out of the room. There’s only one thing he’s aware of; the constant string of ‘why’ torturing his mind. He isn’t ready- he will not accept Castiel is dead. Not again. He just got him back. But with Castiel’s body torn to pieces there isn’t much hope for a better ending. He might as well have exploded. Consumed completely by that cursed power, the burden he never asked to carry. It’s not fair.

[cursedconstellation]

I just had the absolutely diabolical thought-

After Cas died the last time, Dean just shut down. He wouldn't let Sam speak of him, he wouldn't let himself think of him, if he saw a man in a familiar trenchcoat, he'd just turn away. Any of Cas' belongings made it to an old shoe-box, stashed away so well it could only gather dust, intentionally forgotten. As far as Dean Winchester was concerned, Cas might have not existed at all.

Sam, of course, wouldn't leave it alone. Every once in a while he'd mention the angel fleetingly, only to be ignored. He tried being forward, cornering Dean and begging him to at least acknowledge a part of their life was missing. He tried being careful and gentle in his approach, trying to spot a hint of vulnerability in Dean, that momentary, blink-and-you-miss-it look in his eye when he'd hear his name. He tried to be casual, off-handedly say something to catch him off guard.

"Oh, I think this was Cas' favourite mug," off to the shoebox it went.

"Cas really liked this song," and coincidentally, he'd never hear it again.

"Cas would've loved that," and whatever 'that' was would never be mentioned again.

No matter what he said, as soon as Cas' name was uttered, Dean suddenly could not hear it. Even when it was left unspoken, as soon as it became clear who 'he' that Sam incessantly talked about was, it fell on deaf ears.

Months went by, and Sam would not give up, he'd never give up. However his attempts would become more sparse and he'd go weeks without even trying to say anything alluding to Cas. In fact, at a certain point, although he could not remember exactly when, he actively avoided the topic, just as Dean did. Some days he was too tired to confront the reality of his brother being severely unwell, and played into it, just to give himself a couple of days of false normalcy. Because Dean was 'fine'. He said so every time Sam dared to ask. So, some days Sam allowed everything to be just 'fine'.

It was one of those streaks, then. They'd have breakfast together and make a small talk, about anything and everything - as long as Cas wasn't mentioned. Dean would make a bad joke, and Sam would roll his eyes. They fell back into decades long routine, only occasionally broken by Sam, who would always end up coming back to the topic of the angel. He'd always try and catch Dean off-guard, even though he knew the outcome by heart by then. Dean would simply look away, the same, dark look over his eyes, and while he'd stand still, the same as before Sam said anything, he seemed miles away.

That day Sam didn't plan on saying anything. In fact, he himself forgot about it, caught in Dean's denial. It was truly easier that way, to just take Dean at face value, to ignore the fact everything he said, did, or perhaps even thought was a facade. The day itself wasn't remarkable in any way, either. It was as if the entire world adjusted to ignore the fact Cas ever existed in it.

They had their usual banter over breakfast, only to split up after finishing - Sam hid away with his laptop in hands, Dean would leave to work on Baby. In fact he worked on her so much, Sam wasn't sure there was anything left to improve. He never doubted that was in fact what Dean was doing, as he'd always hear banging and scraping of metal even through the walls. It was like that then, too. There was clanking, and music, and occasional roars of the engine. Yet-

At one point it stopped.

Sam only noticed it after a couple of minutes - the music still played, echoing through the bunker, but there was no other sound accompanying it. There was no delicate vibrations from tools being tossed onto the floor.

Perhaps it was his hunter instincts kicking in, or perhaps simple paranoia, but there was something unsettling about that silence.

Sam carefully put his computer away and followed the music up the stairs, listening in closely for any sound of distress, or even any sound at all, but Led Zeppelin blaring from the speaker drowned everything out. Once he reached the garage and the music barely sounded like any melody at all, with mild annoyance, he turned it off, for a moment relishing in the sudden silence.

Except- he heard heavy breathing, as if someone was gasping for air despite being locked in a place deprived of oxygen. It was loud, it was panicked, it was-

It was Dean. Dean, sitting with his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, tears streaming down his pale, clammy face. Before Sam could even move, Dean looked up at him, eyes wide and glistening, and he looked so terrified and helpless, for a moment it felt like he was just a scared kid, who saw something in the darkest corner of his room.

Between heavy, disorganised breaths, he managed to pant out,

"My ears keep ringing, and it sounds just like him."

[wouriqueen]

2x06 thoughts - part 3 - Armand & co

He needed a whole section for himself because he's a freak

Masterclass of playing of the victim

"I can't do anything about the coven." "I'm protecting myself from Daniel Molloy." He's so funny and evil. The audacity the manipulation the lies. It's to the point where I might have to subscribe to the idea that he's got to believe some of what he's saying. Otherwise it's too big.

Armand and Claudia

"Thank you for never treating me like a child" + Claudia apologizing to Armand... Despite her fear of being put aside by Louis for Armand, and her resentment at Louis endangering her for the sake of his relationship with Armand, Claudia has always made sure to show respect for Armand and his position. She did her job. She spoke up respectfully. Stuff she didn't even owe him considering he strangled her and threatened to kill her over literally nothing. She went to him to get approval for turning Madeleine. When they meet again with Madeleine and Louis, she apologizes to him for the conflict he went through with the coven, even though that was mainly about Louis, and even though it started way before she even had any idea of turning anyone or going anywhere.

And right after that apology he lets her get kidnapped and killed. Just like her apology to Lestat was met with ugly mockery and eventually assault :(

"She's worth having" not the objectification.

"You'll come together again" (about Louis and Claudia) I know he believed that and I know that's why he let her die. Because he didn't want that. I know it.

"It's forbidden, Claudia doesn't want his (Lestat's) blood" Says the guy who called her Claudia de Lioncourt!!! And he's so disrespectful, saying that to Louis' face even though Louis was there when he called her that (and I liked that he defended her). Now you respect her wishes to not be associated with Lestat?

There's so many more hypocritical moments in general but I might just list them in another post.

Armand and Louis

Louis sick and tired of "Yes, Maître" My absolute favorite scene is at the park when Louis asks Armand to witness Madeleine turning, Armand tries to turn it into a "Maître" situation, and Louis immediately shuts down. He does kind of play into it with a nonchalant order but he also makes it clear he dislikes it. He just wanted to ask his boyfriend for a favor... He's already tired of having to play that game every time he asks for something that matters to him and they haven't even left Paris! Armand apologizes, but does he truly understand?

Not to mention, given the nasty looks Louis was throwing Madeleine before the bite, I'm sure he felt lonely. Having Armand by his side would have eased the feeling of loss (as Claudia said, "to get something you must lose something" but what he was getting didn't show up).

Armand moving in. I know Claudia herself wasn't really living at the apartment anymore but the way Armand moved in as soon as she left town aghdjshuis

Daniel spelling it out. Too bad that it had to be done that way for people to get it, but I'm glad Daniel pointed out how Armand's submission to Louis was only when it was convenient to him. It was always obvious. Hopefully the bad discourse around it dies down!

Armand, Louis and Daniel

Vampire apologies and dubious alliances. Armand apologizes to Daniel for the memory edit. He has to be prompted to apologize about the attempted murder. He does not apologize for the torture. Daniel is holding onto the shared outrage and the connection he found with Louis earlier, and at first they're kind of a team, but in the end it's not quite going as planned.

Poor Daniel is about to find out what it really feels like to sit on the outskirts of Louis' relationships. He better re-read those diaries for reference...

Vampire hackers and the Talamasca. WHAT is going on with that though? Armand asking about the suddenly encrypted laptop means he regularly snoops around in there, no? And why is he asking Rashid about Daniel's outing as if he can't read both their minds. He knows for sure. But why not just come out with it?

Anyway those were my thoughts, I loved the episode.

2x06 thoughts - part 1 - Madeleine & co

2x06 thoughts - part 2 - Claudia & Louis

[saltofmercury]

Horangi

Summary: You meet Horangi

A/N: This was supposed to be in response to that GIF I've been wet over the past weekend but instead I wrote this shit?

"Horangi"

It was such a long week. Never ending emails, traffic, and meetings you had been a part of. Rain had been plummeting down all week. This made you upset. What should’ve been a 15 minute drive became a 30 minute drive to work. The rain caused fear among other drivers. You enjoyed the rain at home, at peace, not gliding in the wetness of outside. Where you could stay dry, and admire how the water fell from the sky.

Your car approached the house at the top of the hill, his driveway collecting water, and excitedly pouring down the curb of the sidewalk. His window to the living room had the curtains pulled back, the candles you had lit this morning still on. Everything else was blurred due to the water. 

Setting the car in park, you grabbed the umbrella in your backseat, your work backpack, and began to trudge up the driveway to his house. Cold wind hit, you fumbled with the keys, the water still spraying up above– down towards your umbrella, causing your backpack to slide off your shoulder. You dropped the keys in front of you, where the welcome mat had been thoroughly soaked with water. Fingers squished down on the mat, you shoved up the keys swiftly into the lock, and pushed yourself in. 

Small chatter and laughter down the hall was cut short. You stepped in the house, the smell of lavender – your candles– hit you. Hearing his footsteps pick up as you set down the backpack near the door.

“Babe?” The door in the hallway opened, a figure walked, (ran) towards you. Hands smothered your face and brought you close. His body was warm, his fingers soft around your cheeks, as his tongue hungrily opened your mouth.

You moaned a bit into the kiss. It was your favorite welcome home.

“Is it over? The week is finally over?” König mumbled into your mouth in-between kisses. You nodded, eyes closed, you breathed him in, god he was so lucky he stayed home. He was worried after seeing a car accident on Tuesday that you might need to be driven to work, you rejected his offers feeling bad that he could be leaving soon at any moment, allowing him to stay home. 

He grabbed at your backpack and hung it up on a rack, followed by your drenched raincoat. You always seemed to make things complicated.

“Why didn’t you just park in the driveway? Or even the garage? I could’ve moved my gym weights..” Looking over at your exhausted face, he felt bad that he could’ve done one thing that just made your day easier. 

“It’s okay,” you hated feeling like you were prying yourself into his life or house. It was his house, with some small additions of you scattered everywhere. It was never “our” home, probably because you felt like maybe being attached to someone with a job so insane like his would be hard for you, or maybe because he never really made an attempt to call himself yours.

“So good news,” he began, leading you to the couch. He took over the side he usually lay on, and pulled you on top of him.

“MY fantasy football team is winning!” Peering up at him, you rolled your eyes and laughed. 

“Oh are they?” 

“Yes, you know, it took forever for Horangi to really grasp football, but my god the man is a genius at picking players.”

You side eye him, still unable to comprehend the whole concept of a fake league. Shit, the whole idea of football was still hard to understand. You tried your hardest to understand it the many MANY times you sat with him on Sunday’s, as he explained it to you, his patience never thinning out over the same questions you asked.

For you, it was much more fun to see him. The way he admired the players walking in, how they ran out onto the field, the passes and plays König called before the refs, or would call and then a ref would call something different.

“OFFSIDES?” he said as he stood up in disbelief. Hands both on his hips, as he trudged up and down the living room. “It’s stupid call schatz, very very stupid.” As his open hand waved in the air.

You climbed up off of him, walking over to the fridge to grab a drink.

“Horangi and you still meeting up tonight?”

“Of course, we have our weekly meeting for Sunday’s game.”

Horangi and König always met up a couple times online to discuss fantasy leagues or to play games. You busied yourself doing laundry, catching up on shows, or being on your phone knowing he was immersed with his long time friend.

There was very little you knew of Horangi. You knew he was on the team with König, they were instant friends like König said. Horangi just had his back. He was a very loyal man to König. 

You sometimes saw him online, but never heard his voice. When you brought König a snack or water during his time in his game room, Horangi would mention things to König through the headset that would make him blush, then telling him to shut up. You figured it was about you, so you just waved politely and Horangi would wiggle his eyebrows and twiddle his fingers.

You tried to stop yourself from asking, but it was too late.

“How come, I’ve never met Horangi?”

König, pausing his game on his phone, looked over at you and walked over.

“You’ve met Horangi plenty of times,” he began.

“I’ve only really waved at him König, I don’t think he knows my name.”

“Of course he knows your name, I told him.” He was leaning against the kitchen island, his fingers tracing the edge of it. He looked at you, then confessed, with pink hues on his cheeks –

“I tell him a lot about you actually,”

You chewed on your lip, feeling a little better he brought this up, but you weren't satiated.

“Do you? I do feel that’s different than meeting a person.”

“I guess I didn’t really think about it,” he spoke quietly, a little ashamed and sad that he hadn’t properly introduced you two. The two of you were significant in his life, apart from his family back home. He did wonder why the thought never crossed his mind.

“Okay,” he said again, “Horangi is going on a small vacation next month, however he said he would stop by to see me, you guys can meet then.”

You beamed, “wait really, just like that? I thought I would at least hear his voice on the computer first,”

König rolled his eyes and stood up, “I give you so much, and you want so little schatz,” he smiled, pinching his index and thumb together. “We can start there.”

*

The month had rolled by, before you knew it, the day had come that Horangi was staying a couple days in the city you guys were in. König suggested having dinner at his house.

You chewed on your thumbnail, standing in front of your side of the closet, unsure of what to wear. God, have you ever been more nervous just to meet a friend?

König had stepped out of the shower, towel draped around his bottom half, as he dried his hair with another. 

“You okay?” he said, his skin still pink from the hot shower.

“Yes,” you mumbled, sure that you were going to get distracted if you stared to your right. You had a lot of thoughts bubbling in your head, the less distractions the better.

He came up behind you, he still smelled of sandalwood and vanilla, smiling at you in the mirror. 

“Are you… getting nervous?” he grinned so widely. The whites of his teeth showed, one corner of his mouth curved.

“Um, maybe a little,”

“What happened to–’I want to meet your friends’?” He teased you. 

He wasn’t one to talk, especially when he smelled like your body wash straight from the shower.

“Well, there used to be one mercenary under this roof, now it's two...” you caught his eyesight in the mirror, he laughed.

“Guess you better watch what you say then?” He smirked, grabbed your chin and tilted your head towards his.

You both finished getting ready, as you went down to check on the dinner you had been preparing. 

The doorbell rang, and König went out to grab it. He smiled his way to the door, excitement jumping inside him.

The door opened, and you heard Horangi’s voice. “Shit man, very nice place you got here.” König had reached out towards him, then picked him up. Cracking his back, eliciting a gruff sound from Horangi.

“Fuck! you could’ve warned me you damn gorilla!” He spoke, as König laughed out loud.

“Come in!” He was so happy, his voice had changed a bit.

You were still in the kitchen nervously folding the dish towels when you heard the small exchange from them in the hallway.

“So you’ve got a yeonin huh? That’s what's been keeping you from missions?”

König spoke in German, you were unable to understand what he replied to him. Once they had rounded their way to the kitchen, Horangi had been smiling at the response König gave him.

You made the first move toward them,

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” mentally embarrassed for how your voice raised a little higher.

“Hiya, nice to meet you,” he held his hand out. He was such a gentleman, he was smaller than König, but taller than you. He was dressed in all black, with some light orange tennis shoes. His hair was combed back neatly, and he had his dog tags sparkling around his neck. He instantly gave you the impression of the son of a mobster, the way his face was so serious, but looked so young.

König eyed you looking at Horangi up and down, smiling at how you were taken back on meeting someone from his world. He could see in your eyes how you were filled with questions, your eyes taking in his friend.

“.. schatz?” he said quietly, and Horangi laughed. “What's for dinner?”

*

Horangi was a drinker, as König had mentioned, but perhaps out of politeness, he strayed back from drinking too much. You on the other hand had already felt tipsy. König watched you as you slowly became intoxicated, liquid courage replacing the nerves you had.

Horangi had been narrating his latest mission, a mission you discovered König did not accept, making it difficult for Horangi to find a partner he trusted.

“Man,” he shook his head, sipping on the red wine you served him an hour ago. “Nobody has my back out there like you do.” He pointed his finger at König. He had told them that Hutch was explaining to them how to enter the house they needed to get into, his new partner for this job, Roz, was making it difficult for them to get into.

“Fuckin Roz,” König exclaimed, “I swear she’s so reckless, blowing shit up then blaming her teammate for the mess…” “You remember the mission in South America?”

‘I might have blown up 3 cars,” they both said at the same time, impersonating her.

Horangi’s eyes had filled with sadness, clearing missing his partner in the field. He looked at you, then that feeling went away. It sort of made him happy König was not out there.

Horangi had always teased König “swear you and I are going to end up together,” when they stayed up until dawn on missions. König would laugh and tell him “who’s the wife –you or me?” Horangi laughed harder saying “it's me, I am the wife, because you’re so crazy out there, and that leaves me nervous.” Both of them laughed at each other.

It was a genuine friendship, they had each other’s backs, and told each other everything.

He would tell Horangi about the bullies at school, then how he enlisted out of fear of being ridiculed like this his entire life, then enjoyed the dirty work of it all, even leaving the military to join KorTac where the dirty work wasn’t looked down upon. 

Horangi loved the guy, but he knew there was always some emptiness to König though, like he longed for a partner, but couldn’t put himself out there due to his job, or social anxiety.

He looked at you, how your body positioned itself near König, how your hand rubbed König’s leg, how König snuck glances at you every couple of minutes, or smiled at you when you spoke.

He asked,

“How’d you two meet?” then sipped his wine again. 

Your eyes widened, and you blushed, “At the grocery store.”

“Ran into me with your cart…” König corrected you. “I was shopping for produce late at night, remember Horangi, and that night someone hit me with their cart!”

“As if someone could knock you down.” you answered back, clearly never living down how you two first met. 

“So this is shopping cart person?” Horangi had said, then his eyes widened at how bad that sounded, quickly explaining himself.

“König uh, told me about someone staring at him in the produce section, is what I meant.”

You quickly changed the subject, avoiding his comment.

“What’s König like? How did you guys meet?”

Horangi raised an eyebrow at you, then looked at König for an OK.

“You ever know about the time we were ambushed? In Russia?” Horangi leaned back into his chair. He begins telling the story, then pausing to look at König,

“This psycho runs out of the god damn building, throws a grenade at the group, while diving to stab one of their people.”

You looked shocked, this was an extent of what you knew König to be inside the four walls of his home. 

“One time I tell you, our building we were in had been falling apart, this guy Mr. Jason Bourne, decides to run off and jump onto the other building, holding a shotgun.”

König sheepishly replied “It was faster to capture the enemy this way.”

“And he fuckin’ makes it!” “Of course with my help shootin’ people down.”

You leaned into the table, waiting for more from Horangi.

Horangi, lured you in. “Remember when we got that bastard from the human trafficking ring?”

König’s smile had faded, a bit unsure if you were going to be okay with what followed.

“So this piece of shit guy, we were after for like months. Kept finding his hostages, setting them free, but couldn't find the asshole. König finds the piece of shit hiding in an abandoned barn.”

“He was shaking, I was tired of playing cat and mouse.” König said seriously.

“All I hear in the coms is crying, begging, to please let him go.” “Our orders were to bring in dead or alive.”

Horangi looked at you, your head cocked to the side, inviting him to continue. 

“By the time I got there, König had the guys guts spilling out of him.” 

You gasped, making eye contact with König. Both of them laughed, maliciously and playfully. 

“I’m just fucking with you, we brought the guy in, he’s serving time in hell.”

König looked at Horangi, thankful he had slightly changed the ending, and then at you, unsure if you were ready for the truth

“Let’s head outside. I’m sweating..”

*

Horangi continued sharing stories of them out of the field, König interjecting a couple times to tell him “that’s not how I remembered it exactly,” then retelling the story exactly how it was.

You weren’t sure if you were surprised by him or scared, König was so different from what you were used to. The Sunday football guy, the man who teased you and embarrassed you in public, or who had whispered his childhood past to you in the late hours of the night. You just couldn’t believe this was him outside of your bubble together. 

König excused himself to go to the bathroom. Horangi put out his cigarette and came over to you.

“You.. uh… not bothered by the comment earlier right?”

You blushed, “No not at all, just um, curious as to what he is outside of here.”

Horangi nodded his head, looking like he was going to miss an opportunity, he spoke,

“I’m just glad you make him happy.. I’m glad he found his partner.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt sad. König was your person, and as much as he didn’t say it, the evidence was clear. “I love this guy, and I hope you love him the way I do.”

König came out, seeing how Horangi and your knees touched. He hoped Horangi didn’t try to pull his “tiger moves” on you. 

“Come here schatz,” he sat next to you, bringing your couch blanket, “I’ll start a bonfire.”

Horangi looked at you and smiled, his friend was really into you.

“Becareful with this guy… fuckin' pyromanic. Have I told you about how he set a jungle on fire?”

[ananke-xiii]

Another dream, always mine (and yes it's still spn s13 related because i have a bone to pick with dabb over that season specifically)

So here it goes. (Part 1)

Spn s13 but kelly doesn't die, cas doesn't die, crowley doesn't die. Lucifer dies for *reasons* but mary, dean and sam are stuck in the AU.

It's still spn so we just have to have mirrors and parallels, okay? Like, this show doesn't care about continuity but damn! They will stick to mirrors and parallels like it's a religion and so we do too.

The thing is that the AU is not the lame-ass AU Dabb or whoever came up with, it's at least an attempt at being an interesting place. So basically the AU is as boring and dumb as our earth, nothing has really changed, people are still trapped in the rat race that capitalism is (see, we have a little bit of critique here too, there is no escape from the capitalist-fascist-heteronormative narrative or isn't it?), the frigging white picket fences are still everywhere like a fucking nightmare BUT! This is an earth without monsters, angels, demons, nothing goes bump in the night but depression, paranoia and suicidal thoughts (now these are the real monsters) and YET this is THE chance for our heroes, this is the promised land, no past, only freedom, the american dream is theirs to grab (but don't worry this place hides a secret, this is still spn everything must be queer, you'll see). Sam, dean and mary are kinda lost cause, surprise surprise! It turns out that's not the things you want that you can't have but that you didn't know what you wanted so how could you have it in the first place? Mary is restless, this was supposed to be her dream, she died for it and now she doesn't want it and she goes through another deep existential crisis (and, really, we all just get mary because seriously? any character named mary who's also a mother has too much fucking weight on her shoulder, just let the woman be). Sam is kinda okay with it, he once again refuses to get in touch with his emotions and flees from them like the plague: they're gonna make it work, they will find a way (i want to convey ross from friends vibes when he's like *in a squeaky voice* i'm fine! Here, that's sam in the AU). The guy lives in his delusion, this is his chance at being normal (and oh boy is he wrong, you'll see). Dean feels just bad, he's supposed to feel happy with his mother and his brother/son (the weird implications of this situation will be explored) but he keeps thinking about that little house by the sea (or was it a lake?) that cas bought as fucking jimmy novak and how the angel spent months there with kelly playing daddy and how the fucking angel played him and dean just went along and repaired his stupid truck as if to thank him for breaking his heart but also, also, dean will never admit it to anyone ever but deep down he knows, he knows, that that was his place, his angel, his chance (we will also have an explorations into the complex theme of mpreg with the due "Junior" references we all deserve and insights into dean's maternal insticts).

Now back to earth.

Kelly gives birth to a baby jack, cas lives with them to protect them from the angels and demons that will sure come for a visit (but once again he will end up being a total agent of chaos, you'll see), the angel is a bit of a mess, though, and his obsession with saving dean winchester is finally making kelly feel quite concerned with her life choices, maybe trusting this guy was a little bit insane, was he always this deranged? (We'll soon see why she thinks that, she might have a point). Meanwhile crowley goes back to hell and we once again have a cheap game of thrones situation (because why not? i can't come up with infinite original ideas to fix this plot, okay? Also this is still spn, i can condone SOME cheap storylines on the side, and anyway mark sheppard makes anything work so we're good) where his varys-like smart brain cells will put him on the throne again (who's this asmodeus guy anyway, prince of hell or not, fuck him, he will not stick around here for a second season while dagon died like after 2 episodes she was in, not gonna happened in my narrative). But, you see, the demon has his own issues, and goes visiting kelly and the angel because why not? He likes kelly she seems interesting enough for a person who birthed satan's son, escaped from a fucking angel of the lord, was kidnapped by a goddamn prince of hell, managed to baby trap said angel of the lord, stole the frigging impala and escaped that menace that the winchesters are. She then proceeded to give birth knowing she might have died. She is something. Something a bit unhinged maybe but crowley digs her, okay? He still also has varys-like smart brain cells so he needs to visit to make sure that baby lucifer is, like, not plotting to take over hell or whatever newborn babies half-made from cosmic entities do these days. Also, also, watching castiel putting baby jack to sleep with those big strong angel gym-bro arms did something to him, his daddy fetish and his mommy issues raised their head and something else too, and he foolishly promises to keep jack safe from hellish attacks and indulges castiel in his winchester obsession. What? He misses the brothers too, those handsome, tall, cruel white boys (we are reminded that, visually, the whole cas/kelly/jack situation is quite similar to the weird crowley/dean/amara thing of s11, mirrors and parallels need to keep happening people, this is spn, we gott have 'em). Castiel is living his tragic destiny yet again, he's seen the AU, has been there, technically knows that dean, sam and mary are safe but he just has to see it for himself, right? Like he has to make sure, it's not like dean not being there is eating him from the inside, it's not like he starts feeling the pang of guilt over the huge betrayal he's forced onto dean,leaving him left behind again and again and playing him that way, no. He copes by sitting in his stupid truck that dean had repaired listening to that damn tape (every time he does that we have a close-up of kelly watching the pathetic scene from her window and sighing as if in "fuck, FUCK, my life"). And oh, yes he also starts researching about archangel resurrection because i may or may not bring back my girls, aka raphael and uriel but this is for part 2, you'll see.

[flamemons]

How do you think Digimon Frontier might have gone if the Spirits of Steel, Wood, and Earth had been bequeathed to Ophanimon, the Spirits of Darkness and Water had been bequeathed to Seraphimon, the Spirits of Flame, Light, Ice, Wind, and Thunder had been bequeathed to Cherubimon, and the protagonists had been Katsuharu, Teppei, Chiaki, Teruo, and Koichi (with Kouji joining later)?

im just gonna ramble whatever comes to mind lmao. i drew some stuff too!

uuh while i find it hard to care too much about those other kids because well, I don't know much about them, it is really fun thinking about how kouichi would act if he was there from the start. I think he'd be serious, in a similar way to Kouji, bc he's there on a mission, y'know! All he remembers is following his brother around until Kouji gets some weird text message (wait,,, does kouichi have a phone? probably not, huh. poor people gang ftw...) and now hes in this fuckin place! (hes a dead soul in this au too.) I'd imagine he'd be just as driven as Kouji was, if not more so, bc he KNOWS koujis gotta be here somewhere....but instead of initially trying to avoid the other kids (koujis strategy), he'd probably stick around as soon as he realizes that theyre gonna get themselves killed if they keep acting stupid. So, instead of trying to ditch the kids or act distant, he'd nag them and rush them to stay on track, and come off as kind of a bossy stick-in-the-mud at first

Side note, its easy to think of kouji as being a lot more serious and mature compared to the rest of the frontier kids, but honestly, I have to wonder if he wouldve acted differently if ophanimon wasnt calling him all the damn time telling him that he has to find answers! hes gotta get stronger! theres something he Has To Know!!! like damn if ophanimon was that specific with the other kids they'd also probably be just as sullen. anyway, kouichi would be feeling the same kind of pressure.

in an attempt to make it more interesting for me, chiaki and teruo are now siblings. or close cousins. or something. (what if they were fraternal twins?? that would be so funny actually. there is a statistically improbable amount of twins here!) AND bc i like chiaki the most i think she'd make a cool leader of sorts! like, the lancer to kouichi. kouichi ends up accidentally being the leader bc hes so driven, and chiakis like, a genuinely nice person who really wants to help the digital world as soon as she steps off the first trailmon onto the flame terminal. she also doesnt take shit from anyone. maybe she was a quiet wallflower-type kid at school, but, if its for another's sake, then she'll always speak up! so now, in the digital world, she cant stay quiet!

ah i love just making shit up. this is fun

so together, they make the most chillest leader/lancer duo ever. (hey, if they WERE to be the two Main Ones, wouldnt it be cool if their Susanoomon-type evolution was deep-sea themed? mix darkness and water together, and you get The Fucking Abyss. it could be bioluminescent! a cool way to turn "light into darkness!")

btw, im not drawing any spirit forms here bc I think these kids would have alternative spirit forms as opposed to the evil ones in the show. like, heroic looking ones (basically, no child deserves to have to spirit evolve into grottomon) BUT im no good at character design and that sounds like a lotta work. also, the other spirits (fairymon, chakkmon, agnimon, etc,) would need evil forms too then, right?? that sounds like a REALLY hard thing to try drawing, so nah. just imagine these kids spirit evolving and fighting offscreen. speaking of the other spirits though,

i want chakkmon/tomoki to try pummeling the shit out of katsuharu and teppei!! karmas a bitch!! tomoki didnt get to have his character development in this AU, bc he (probably) fell off the trailmon train tracks and got Got by cherubimon!

i like the main frontier kids too much to not include them in everything i draw Ever, so imagine that maybe they all came to the digital world alone, and wandered around until they found their respective spirits (in similar circumstances to the show) but since those spirits belongto cherubimon, theyre possessed/convinced to fight on cherubimons side!! like "oh shit i have no friends and i hate my life, yea this big evil bunny has a point lets go fuck shit up". maybe some of them are fully in control of their actions, maybe some arent. maybe some of them remember that theyre human, but maybe some of them dont....?

lastly, i have to apologize bc i got completely sidetracked bc i thought "oh takuya and kouji would be very funny as team rocket-esque villains" so heres flamon and strabimon but Evil™

i like to imagine that theyre the Most Incompetent of cherubimons Evil Guys but theyre the only two (that cherubimon knows of) that can form susanoomon so THATS why hes trying to collect all the spirits. bc of that, they DEFINITELY dont remember that theyre human. (bc of that, they also kind of dont have anything to care about, so theyre just trying to have fun)

it would be fun if they were initially kind of lame but although they may be idiots, theyre not Dumb, so they slowly become competent at the same rate as the Heroes do, and instead of a sephirothmon arc theres like.......a beowolfmon and aldamon arc??? im not a writer i dont know. watch these five kids (and counting!) get slowly hunted by two fucking Beasts in the darkest forest ever.

or maybe they do Actually manage to collect all the spirits but it goes so horribly wrong and now theres like ten goddamn kids and ten spirits mashed up in the psyche of a very unstable susanoomon and its just some fucked up Twisted psychological nightmare. digimon evangelion.

basically in this AU, there is even MORE wild tone shifts and the plot goes Absolutely Fucking Bonkers. and takuya's cosplaying Jotaro Kujo for some fucking unknown reason.

thank you for asking! this was....probably not what you were going for, but c'est la vie

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Summer Love || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: big fluffy feels; i'm not responsible for any damage this does to your teeth enamel

Wordcount: 2171

Summary: Love is a song that never ends; one simple theme repeating Like the voice of a heavenly choir, love's sweet music f l o w s on NOW KISS AN: Sorry the fic writer can't come to the phone right now she's dead from her own fluff

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

The trees had traded their sweet smelling blossoms for thick green leaves, gently swaying in the soft breeze of a lazy summer afternoon. Having nowhere else to be but here, Kurt was enjoying the few beams of sunlight that made it through the thick canopy, the shade provided by the greenery just as pleasant. He was waiting for someone, tail immediately happily wagging as he saw a familiar mop of wine colored hair pop up in his peripheral vision. She had been wearing it in a ponytail for most of the day, but had taken the hair tie out and was still shaking out the tresses of her hair as she approached him.

"Hi, Kurt. What was so important I needed to meet you all the way out here for?"

"I figured you deserved a little get away after all the progress you've been making. You really seem to click with a lot of the new team; you're making friends. I'm proud of you."

"Eh," Miranda replied, still not fully over her habit of diminishing her own accomplishments, "they're a nice bunch, which helps a lot. A lot of them with similar feelings to mine; makes it easier to talk about it, yknow? Until the social battery drains, anyway."

Kurt nodded, lightly leaning back against a thick tree trunk and gesturing at her to join him. She did, mirroring his pose as she allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of the afternoon.

"You're still introverted, after all," Kurt remarked, a small smile on his lips, "I don't think that'll ever change. You don't have to. I'm just glad to see you broaden your social circle. But I thought sharing a quiet afternoon together would be nice for you, after the game nights with my team and yours."

"Thank you," Miranda said softly, looking up at the canopy as it danced in the light breeze, "I wonder what it's like all the way up there. I would go look, but I haven't climbed into a tree since elementary school. I don’t think my body would appreciate the attempt."

She was suddenly very well aware that a set of eyes was watching her, to which she slightly turned her head to Kurt, some kind of mischievous emotion gleaming in his eyes.

"... What?"

"I can get you up there, if you want. Haven’t poked around in any trees lately, either; but it’s fun. I might just take you up on the offer."

Ah, right. He could bring her there in a heartbeat if she asked. She looked up for a moment longer, thinking if she really wanted that or not. He followed her gaze, looking between the leaves to conjure up a plan of getting up to one of the branches thick enough for two people to comfortably sit on.

"Just don't drop me."

"I won't," he assured, offering his hand for her to take. When she did, he pulled her close to himself, "hold on and don't let go until I say so, okay?"

"Okay."

As soon as he felt confident she was hanging on, he teleported both of them as far up as he could, hanging on to the absolute massive tree trunk and having a quick look around before beaming over to a big, sturdy looking branch that would indeed accommodate both of them. He helped her get comfortable on this tree branch first; setting her in between himself and the tree trunk before instinctively wrapping his tail around her waist twice as another safety precaution just in case she leaned too far backwards and lost her balance. She just lightly patted the tail as he sat down next to her.

"Well, if all else fails, guess I'm taking up bungee jumping."

He laughed softly, looking down and only seeing a few slivers of the ground as he did. They really were hidden away in an enormous sea of leaves in every possible hue of green.

"I don't think anyone can even see me up here; despite me usually standing out. This tree really did its best with all these leaves," he felt how she rested her head to his shoulder, quiet and gentle bliss between them as the tree had allowed them to hide away from the world for a little while.

"Hey," he started softly, "Gambit asked me to take over another training session. Given his nonsense last time I have half a heart to not take his word for it and let him sort something else out.

"Otherwise occupied?" Miranda asked, air quoting the words for emphasis to which Kurt gave a small hum of agreement with a hint of suspicion to it

"That's what he says, ja. I just wanted to talk to you about it first, before getting roped into his actions again."

"I mean, training with you is fun," Miranda quietly admitted, the hint of a blush tinting her cheeks, "besides, my footwork is still ass, I need all the help I can get with that."

"..... About that," now it was Kurt's turn to blush lightly, a very faint purple on his cheeks, "you sure you want those lessons from me? Last time seemed to overwhelm you with how close we had to be for it..."

She was suddenly painfully aware of how close they were right now, sitting upright as her heart skipped a beat.

"W-Well, I know what to expect now, it'll be fine!" it came out of her with a nervous laugh, to which he just raised an eyebrow, "it's just- Yeah, okay. You really caught me off guard the first time around. Not in a bad way, or anything, but that felt more like teaching me how to dance than teaching me footwork in fighting."

"The two do go hand in hand after all; as an extension of my gymnastic routines I took up tango. And ja, I've heard it all before. "Wow, really thought you'd be one for the waltz"- I know the waltz too. Tango is simply more fun and energetic," he watched as the blush on her face grew slightly more intense, "if you ever want to be taught either, let me know."

"Think you would get annoyed with my two left feet really fast."

"Doubt it; you trust me and don't mind following my lead. Everything else is just practice."

They sat there in silence for a bit, watching as a songbird flocked down on the branch as well and curiously observed them before fluttering of, singing a little tune the whole way it flew off

"... What actually happened in that last moment before you left?" Kurt then asked. It was something that hadn't left his mind ever since it happened, how quickly she tapped out and vanished from view when he had stopped her from falling to the ground. Her blush got worse, her invisibility flickering for a moment until she decided to make it stay off. Maybe it was a stupid thing to tell him, but it would haunt her forever if she didn't. He clearly wanted to know.

"... The thoughts on my mind freaked me out. You were so close my brain was convincing me that... that you could hear my heartbeat," she paused, the lump in her throat suddenly feeling incredibly heavy.  She just looked at him, wondering if what she was about to say would mean risk losing everything they had now. Rogue's words and implications sang around in her head, how she felt like they were actually a good match for each other. Keenly aware of the tail still wrapped around her waist, the warmth of him right next to her, Miranda debated for a moment longer on what to do before her brain agreed that taking this leap of faith to find where they really stood was better than wondering for years on end what might have been had she just told him. It was going to take every damn fiber of her bravery and her impulsion, but this felt like the only moment where she could actually tell him that-

"....... it made me want to kiss you."

Her voice was so soft, barely above a whisper as telling this made her feel incredibly vulnerable. As soon as he looked at her clearly surprised by this admission, she looked away, the blush on her face further intensifying as she flickered in and out of view again. Her power still had no idea what to do about the sensation of embarrassment, unable to decide whether that was enough to trigger her hide response or not.

"Why didn't you?"

Her eyes flicked back to him as she wanted to tell him how that seemed like kind of a ridiculous question, that of course she couldn't start randomly obeying her impulses like that with zero input from him; but her gaze got caught in his. Deep, glowing pools in hues of amber, gold and yellow that she could get lost in for hours if she only had the luxury to do so, reigniting the same desire she had spoken off. Her brain couldn’t keep up, the swirling vortex of the emotions he evoked in her too much to deal with to keep the filter on her mouth intact

"I-I wouldn't know how. This- All of this," she gestured at her own face as shades of red and pink were happily painting patches all over her cheeks, "never happened to me before, like, ever. To the point where I thought all those love songs people sing are just straight up bullshit, there's no way you can feel that way about someone, I didn't- never did, not until-"

She fell completely silent as he turned further to her and slowly placed a hand to her cheek, allowing her to simply melt into the touch and giving her a moment to breathe- quieting her mind as if entering the eye of a hurricane and enjoying the tranquility from it.

"Never?" he asked softly, and from the tone of his voice she could tell he wasn't judging her in the slightest, just looking for confirmation that he understood what she told him. She placed her hand over his, lightly nodding as she held his hand in place and tried to calm her still racing heart. Silence lingered between them for a while, pleasant and comforting yet with a spark of electricity, until he broke it.

"May I kiss you?"

She was convinced she stopped breathing for a moment, her voice completely giving up on her and rendering her speechless; she could only nod as answer to his question. He lightly moved his hand down to her jawline, running his thumb over her skin before gently pulling her in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It was sweet, chaste even; if she had never done anything like this before then he wasn’t going to rush her into anything more than a polite, gentle kiss like this.

Especially not when this apparently was already enough to hard crash her brain. As soon as he pulled back, he saw for a split second that the red hue on her face had fiercely deepened before her invisibility decided to finally take reign as she flickered out of view. He felt how she escaped his hand, and the weight of her head on his shoulder as she buried her face there the moment after.

"... That doesn't really work when I already know where you are, Süßer," and he really couldn't stop himself from laughing ever so slightly as a garbled, muffled response came from the invisible woman hiding against his shoulder. Another very muffled line came, and he still couldn't make out what she was saying

"I can't understand that, sorry,’ he felt her shift against him, in such a way she could actually vocalize properly instead of muffling herself completely in his shoulder while remaining out of view.

"Does this make us partners?" his heart simply melted at how softly she asked, voice tinged with worry at what his response was going to be, no doubt. Gauging where she exactly was from the weight against his shoulder and from how his tail was wrapped around her, he adjusted how he was sitting even more so he had the ability to put his arms around her.

"Do you want us to be?" he could feel her nod against his shoulder, "then partners it is."

"I'm... I know this is going to look ridiculous to anyone looking up, but, uhm, I'm gonna stay like this a little bit longer if you don’t mind. Just… G-give me a minute."

"It's okay. Take your time."

“…. W-when I do, could you- would you kiss me, again?”

“Ja. If you want me to.” He felt her nod again and mumble how she felt like her heart was going to give out, making him unable to keep a small laugh to himself; he simply found her adorable like this as his cheeks turned a much deeper shade of purple.

[idreamofhazeleyes]

Recovery

15x20

Aeryn POV 

Muse: Fine Line by Kapa Boy Instrumental 

Summery: Aeryn and the boys returned to the Bunker after rescuing her from the vampires.  

@squirrelnotsam @impala-dreamer @mrswhozeewhatsis @idreamofplaid @winchestergirl-13 @spnfanficpond

The Bunker was quiet. My nerves were shot, and I was expecting a vampire to come out of nowhere. My memory was fuzzy after seeing Dean and Sam before collapsing. I had stayed awake to watch over the teens that the vampires held captive. I lost track of the days after nearly three days. My powers had started to slip out of my control. The time over the vampires’ heads had gone from years when they first captured me to days. That had been my only solace, knowing that a rescue was coming. 

There was a fuzzy memory of arriving in the Bunker and being carried to my room. Someone, Dean most likely, had changed my clothes into a tank and sleeping shorts. I slipped into a deep sleep soon after. Hunger woke me. I hoped there was something in the kitchen that would be easy on my stomach.  

The lights were off save for the one over the stove. It was enough for me to be able to see. A soft noise carried on the air and my body tensed, ready to fight.  

“Aeryn?” Sam stood there in his gray tee and semi matching gray lounge pants.  

“Sam?” The tension melted away from my body. “What are you doing up?” 

“I should ask you that.” 

I gave an amused sound. “I got hungry.” I eased my way over to the fridge to be intercepted by Sam. 

“Come sit and I’ll get you something,” Sam said, half guiding me over to the table. “What do you want?” 

I didn’t fight Sam, still exhausted from the lack of sleep and food. “Something easy on the stomach. Water to drink.” 

My body half slumped onto the table once I sat. My mind started to drift off into that state of semi-unconsciousness where I could hear Sam moving around and could fall asleep.  

“When did you two know that I was in trouble?” I asked in an attempt to remain awake. 

“When you hadn’t checked in with us.  We followed your trail.”  

“And finding me in the barn?” 

Sam went quiet even as he continued to move about. I don’t recall doing anything to draw attention to the barn. 

“Sam, what is it?” I wanted to get up and walk over to him, but my body refused.  

“It was Cas.” 

My mind emptied of every thought. The last time I saw the angel, he had been taken by the Empty in the attempt to kill Billy. After he confessed his love to Dean. Dean hadn’t dealt with any of that and I had attempted to open a door to the Empty.  

“H...How?” 

Sam shrugged. “He didn’t say.”  He finished getting food out and started heating it up. “Cas did say he wanted to talk with you. When you’re ready to.” 

I stifled a yawn and leaned onto the table. “Maybe after more sleep.” 

“And this.” Sam put a bowl of soup in front of me. “Chicken noodle. And water.” He stepped away for a moment and returned with a piece of bread. “It’s not much...” 

“It’s the best meal I’ve had in four days.” I flashed a smile with a spoonful of the broth in my mouth. We sat there, I eased the soup into my body and Sam nursed his own glass of water. Part of me sensed he wanted to talk about what I went through on the case but did not push the issue. The soup had gone luke warm by the time I finished it. 

“Thanks for making the soup,” I said.  

“You’re …” Sam’s attention turned to the door.  

My gaze followed his to see Dean standing there in a black tee and boxers. I flashed him a weak smile. The tension in Dean’s body fell away as he walked into the kitchen. He walked over and rubbed my upper back. I leaned into the touch.  

“You okay?” Dean asked.  

“Yeah. I got hungry.” A yawn escaped. “Think I might try sleep a bit more.” 

“Come on, then.” 

“I got the dishes,” Sam said as he stood.  

I watched him move from the table before easing to my feet. Dean was a couple steps behind me, ready to catch me if I fell. I got a couple steps away from the table before feeling an arm wrap around my waist. I leaned into Dean as we made our way down the hall. For the moment, I was safe. 

[autisticandroids]

love club commentary part 2

got link limited by tumblr so here is the second half of this.

okay we're nearing the home stretch, folks. anyway. one of the reasons it took me so long to make this video is that i was worried about... the possibility of misinterpretation. because this video has a lot, and i mean a LOT, of themes and things to say. and not a lot of space to say them in. so one of the things i was concerned about is like... this video is partly about the tragedy of the angels, you know? and that's something where cas' complicity/fault is... complicated. while cas certainly bears some of the blame, it's also true that... this was historically inevitable. the angels were always going to eventually wipe themselves out because of the nature of their inherently unstable authoritarian cultgovernment means that when that collapsed, of course they all killed each other before they could figure out any other way to live. and it was always going to collapse.

and like, there were chances! there were chances. maybe eventually after half a decade of continuous civil war the remaining angels could have gotten their shit together. that's what's so compelling about stairway to heaven: that was their best chance. but it gets wrecked. and it gets wrecked because cas can't say no to his cult leader. like that's the great tragedy.

but also, it gets wrecked because of hannah's angel conflict resolution skills. the only way she knows how to solve the problem in stairway to heaven is by demanding that cas kill dean. hannah is certainly the rachel of season nine in terms of being a kind of synecdoche for his relationship with other angels, but also for her inability to resolve things without violence. (there is a reason why rachel's death plays such a prominent role in this video, and also why her "but what does god want us to do with it?" is so emphasized. she is synecdoche for the tragedy of cas and the angels in every respect. she expects to follow a leader. she has no framework for choices. she tries to kill cas. he kills her instead. he doesn't want to).

this is why i specifically included the fight with daniel and adina in black in the little flashes of angel violence during the rachel fight. that whole thing is a direct result of stairway to heaven, it's happening because that little attempt at like, angel non-authoritarianism has failed, and now hannah has the reins she is immediately falling back on authoritarianism because that's all she knows. it's really just like godstiel. you need a father, and i am your father now. which is of course projection, she is the one who feels like she needs an authority and is floundering. but i digress. and as soon as other angels reject her authority, the result is deadly violence. which is because of the authoritarian cult mindset instilled in her and cas and others by their upbringing in heaven.

so while cas is complicit in the angels wiping themselves out, i don't want it to come off like i'm putting all of the blame on him, you know? and while it matters that dean hates angels and will never accept cas' relationship with them it's also... it isn't the whole story. like, it matters that cas participates in wiping out the angels, it matters that sometimes the reasons why are related to how being in the winchester family cult has harmed him, it matters that being in the winchester family cult has also prevented him from effectively assisting the other angels. there's a reason i put the "i hate those flying ass-monkeys just as much as you do" -> "if i see what heaven's become... what i... what i made of it… i'm afraid i might kill myself" scene in this video. but they're not the core. the core of the tragedy is that the angels killed each other because they were always going to. and that's what the video's about.

my other concern about misinterpretation is essentially that i'm tackling a lot of themes and topics in this video and i didn't want to blur them together. like, cas inducting jack into the cult of the winchester family doesn't really have anything to do with the extinction of the angels, except insofar as they are both distant results of cas' indoctrination into the angelic cult, you know?

anyway, one of the reasons i couldn't make this amv way back in september 2021 is that i did not truly get jack yet, because i hadn't had @restlesshush explaining to me the horrible reality of his life for a year and some change.

anyway one thing i've always liked about this song is the double entendre of go get punched for the love club. like, punched as in tapped, as in initiated, but also punched as in hit. and so i put cas sacrificing himself in lucifer rising in the first chorus because you know, it fits. he's sacrificing himself to be initiated into dean's good graces. there's a reason why the thing that finally pushes him, in both lucifer rising and the monster at the end of this book, is dean saying "we're done." which is, you know. it's definitely bad for cas. but the true tragedy is in the last chorus, when cas unintentionally teaches jack that he too must destroy himself (this is why when cas is saying "take me in his stead" from byzantium he is mouthing go get punched for the love club). like, the end is a kind of. jack suicide compilation. it's all the times that jack has tried to destroy himself in the name of the winchester family. the most notable ones are obviously unity and ouroboros, ouroboros because it's like. it's an attempt by jack to earn his place in the winchester family through self-destruction. unity (the rib scene) because dean openly demands that jack sacrifice himself.

and then of course there's the level on which like... the beginning of jack's relationship is cas trying to get into another cult. like, he's had a pretty miserable year in season twelve so he just. finds himself a new authority figure. he craves being brainwashed, and he kind of gets his wish. of course, once jack is a flesh and blood person in front of him and not a vague concept, that's no longer how he relates to jack.

but there's still a level of one-sidedness in their relationship in a new way, where cas thinks of himself as not really having the right to be jack's family, of his task being to love jack one-sidedly. and this results in lots of things but one of them is him intentionally indoctrinating jack into the family cult. like he is not bringing jack into his own family. there is no family unit that is headed by castiel. instead, he's bringing jack into the winchester family.

which is why that whole conversation at the end happens. like, cas sacrificing himself for jack in front of jack may have been destructive to jack, bringing him to be around the winchesters, ditto, but this conversation in destiny's child is like. the worst thing cas has done to jack. and like. i have my qualms about the writing in this episode, because of buckleming's garbage jack thesis. but it's crucial to understanding the whole point, because what's happening there is cas teaching jack to process dean's abuse the way cas does. he is teaching jack to accept emotional abuse as an inevitability, and love dean anyway. and that's the end point of cas' trauma, trauma that starts all the way back in heaven.

cas becoming dean's priest.

[back to video]

[foundtherightwords]

Winter Light

Pairing:Tom Grant (Make Up) x OFC

Summary: Vanessa, a young cancer patient, arrives at a remote holiday park in Cornwall to wait out the rest of her days, but after a chance meeting with a park employee named Tom who's nursing a broken heart, Vanessa realizes life may not be done with her yet.

Warnings: angst (oh so much angst), slow burn, some fluff, swearing, serious illness (cancer), suicide attempt, death, drowning (in this chapter)

A/N: First ever fic, and English is my second language, so please be kind. Also, I kind of shamelessly ripped off “Third Star” (the 2009 movie with Benedict Cumberbatch, JJ Feild, and Tom Burke) for this.

Chapter 1 - "Tom"

As the cab wound its way along the coastal road, Vanessa wondered what it would feel like to drown.

It would probably be quite cold, she thought, eyeing the choppy, steel-grey sea with its crests of white foam underneath a sky the color of dirty cotton balls, just visible amongst the sand dunes. It looked nothing like the deep blue sea and sunny skies she remembered from her childhood. But she had never minded the cold.

It would probably hurt. Once, when she had just started learning how to swim, she had gone under and breathed in by mistake. The chlorinated water had burned her nose and her throat. This would hurt much, much more. But hopefully she would be too tired by then to notice, and it would be over soon.

The caravans started appearing, squat, utilitarian shoeboxes that lined the road, their windows blank or shut, like blind eyes. The place looked deserted. Nobody came to Cornwall in October.

The cab turned and pulled to a stop. The driver cleared his throat. He hadn't opened his mouth since they left the station, when Vanessa told him she would pay extra if they could get there in silence. It was a long drive though. Vanessa found that some silences could be relaxing and comfortable, while others were protracted and awkward. This man's silence thundered.

The woman behind the reception desk had sun-bleached hair, skin scoured red by the Cornish wind, and hard features. Still, her smile was friendly enough when Vanessa asked for a caravan. She said her name was Shirley, as she dug out a key from the board behind her.

"I'll put you into one of our residential vans," she said with the rasping voice of a chain smoker, though Vanessa saw no evidence of a cigarette in the office. "All the holiday ones are being cleaned."

"That's fine."

"Nobody comes here in October, so we thought we'd get an early start on the strip down," Shirley explained. "You're alright with that?" she asked, indicating Vanessa's cane.

"Yes. Just had a bit of an accident."

"How long you staying?"

"A week," Vanessa gave the rehearsed answer.

"We close by the end of October, just so you know."  

"I know," Vanessa replied. Then she added, half to herself, "I'll be gone by then."

Shirley glanced at her with sharp eyes, and Vanessa was afraid that she'd said too much. But the older woman only barked into a walkie-talkie, "Incomer!"

A moment later, a curly head with a scowl poked through the door. "Ah, Tom," Shirley said. "Take Miss Curran here to her van."

The boy grunted. "Which one?"

"717. Jade's old one."

 A flinch, almost imperceptible. Vanessa idly wondered who this Jade was and what she had been to this boy, but before she could examine him for more evidence, he had withdrawn again. She took the key from Shirley, said a quick "thank you", and followed him.

"Enjoy your stay," came Shirley's wheezy reply.

Vanessa struggled to keep up with the boy as he rolled her suitcase down the main path. She was grateful when he slowed his steps to wait for her, though he didn't show any sign of noticing her cane. She was even more grateful that he didn't seem the talkative type. His scowl had only deepened, and one of his curls had escaped, bouncing against his forehead with every step. In another life, Vanessa might have found him cute. But now she forced herself to be indifferent and look away.

The caravan stood on a bluff overlooking the beach. It looked trim and neat enough, though the front was marred by some window boxes full of weed and dead plants. There were several similar caravans around, but they looked unoccupied. It was perfect. She would be completely alone, which was exactly what she wanted. The boy dropped her suitcase outside and left before she could say thank you. He didn't even glance at the caravan. Could be an interesting mystery to unravel, why he seemed so sullen. It must have something to do with the previous occupant of the caravan. An ex-girlfriend, a bad breakup, perhaps? Too bad she wouldn't be around to confirm it.

Inside, the caravan was bigger than she'd expected, with a nice view of the coast. The furniture was basic, but she wasn't going to stay long anyway. She did everything she used to do when she went on holiday with her parents - dumped her suitcase in the bedroom, poked around the kitchen and the bathroom, looked into cabinets, jumped on the sofa, allowing herself to enjoy the novelty of being in a new place, even if it was just for a while. Then she showered, ate some supper, took her medications, and went to bed. Just another day.

***

The next day dawned bright and clear. Vanessa woke at sunrise and got dressed. The pain was back, gnawing at her bones like a pack of hungry wolves, so she took some liquid morphine to dull it, just enough so she could walk down to the beach. The pain kept her alert. She didn't want to get too tired before she could swim out far enough.

She took the letters out of her suitcase and pondered them. She thought about taking them with her, but surely they would be safer here, and someone would go back for her belongings regardless of whether her body was found or not. But it might be a while before anyone noticed her missing. In the end, she decided to leave the letters in an easy-to-see spot in the caravan and wrote a quick, generic note to take with her, so whoever found her clothes would know to inform her family right away.

She noticed her hand was shaking a little as she closed the door of the caravan. She pulled herself together. It was just a swim. She had practically lived in water since she was little. There was no reason to be afraid.

She left her cane in the caravan, thinking it would be too cumbersome. It was a good thing that her caravan was right by the beach, or else she might not have managed the walk. The pain was still clamoring for her attention, and walking on the uneven ground made it worse. By the time she reached the water's edge, she was glad to sit down on the soft sand. The sea was calm today, a warm peach color under the rising sun. A mild wind tugged at her dark hair.

Slowly, methodically, so she didn't have to think about anything else, Vanessa started taking her clothes off. She was wearing a bathing suit underneath, not because she wanted people to think she had actually gone out for a swim, but simply because the idea of going into the water in her normal clothes seemed weird to her. She wanted everything to be as normal as possible, until the last moment. She took the note out of her pocket, put it on top of the clothes, and put her shoes over it so it wouldn't blow away.

A movement out of the corner of her eyes turned her head. She saw a man walking down the beach, not too far from her, his curls rioting in the wind. She recognized those curls. The surly boy who had taken her to her caravan the day before. What was his name, Tim? No, Tom. He stood at the top of the bluff, looking down at the beach as if in contemplation. Vanessa turned her back on him and held her breath. Go away. Go away, go away, please. There are miles of sea all around. You don't have to go down here. Go away. Leave me alone.

But he didn't go away. He peeled off his jacket and shirt, kicked his shoes to the side, and ran down the beach. Vanessa could hear the splash as he dove into the water.

Frustrated, she plunged her hand into the sand, squeezing its cold grittiness between her fingers. Should she risk it? If she waited until he finished swimming and left, or if she went to another beach, more people might show up. Perhaps she would be lucky; he might be too focused on his own swimming and not see her until it was too late. But what if he did see her and decide to save her? No, better go somewhere else.

She gathered up her clothes and struggled to her feet. As she did so, something caught her attention. It was quiet. Too quiet. The splashing from the boy had stopped. She could still see his head bobbing in the water, but he wasn't making any progress. Occasionally, his head would dip down, only to resurface again but remaining above the water for a shorter time. From the shore, she could see him tilling his head back, trying to keep his mouth and nose out of the water, and his arms flailing wildly.

Vanessa's lifeguard instinct kicked in. She scanned the beach, but it was deserted. Nobody she could call for help, nothing she could use. If only she'd brought her cane! Her eyes landed on her windbreaker. It would have to do. She grabbed it and plunged into the sea. In an instant, she realized what the problem was - the water was freezing. The soft peachy hue of the sea was deceiving. The cold bit into her like millions of tiny needles, knocking the breath out of her. But she still remembered her training. She swam toward the boy in quick, decisive strokes and soon got used to the cold; in fact, it helped to take the attention away from the pain in her bones.

He seemed to notice her when she reached him. She threw the soaking wet windbreaker toward him. "Grab on!" she shouted. He threw his arm out, trying to reach for it, but it was too far away. A wave pushed them apart, and the windbreaker slipped out of her hand. Shit. Well, there was nothing else to it but to try and tow him herself. "I'm going behind you," Vanessa yelled above the noise of the wind and the waves. "Try to keep your head above water!" She didn't know if he could hear her. As she reached for him from behind, she could feel him thrashing, his weight pulling them down. "Stay calm...!" she tried to say, but her head went under and salt water poured into her nose and mouth. She tried kicking out, pushing him away, but he was too heavy and she couldn't tread water. There was no strength left in her arms. Her legs screamed in protest. Her lungs burned. It hurt, so much more than she thought. It was even worse than the pain in her bones, and she definitely wasn't too tired to notice it. She was aware of every second of agony. So this was it. She was going to die in the water, just as she'd wanted, but it would be because this stupid boy had ruined her careful plan...

Suddenly the weight on her eased a little. She didn't know if the boy had gone unconscious or if he had regained his sense, but his hands had slipped from her shoulders. Kicking with all her might, she pulled herself up, out of the water, and took in a lungful of blessed air. Then she dove under again, hooked one arm around him, and pulled him spluttering to the surface. It was much easier now that he was working with her, and together, they swam as one, dragging themselves back to shore.

At last, her feet found solid ground, and they were out of the water. She collapsed onto the sand. For what seemed like an eternity, she lied there, feeling the wet sand under her, the cold wind on her skin, the soothing air in her lungs. Her legs throbbed, but she ignored it. She didn't even care if the boy lived or died, until a gasping sound reminded her of his presence. She sat up and wheeled around to face him. He was on all four, coughing up water, his hair limp around his face, his lips blue with cold.

"You owe me a jacket!" she tried to shout, but it only came out as a hoarse whisper.

"S-sor-sorry," he sputtered. "C-c-colder... th-than I thought." He finally got to his feet and staggered off, without a glance back. Vanessa was too exhausted to be offended. She edged toward the dry sand and tried to pull her clothes back on with clumsy fingers, still numb with cold.

Suddenly something was draped over her shoulders. She turned around. The boy had come back and put his jacket on her. He only had on a T-shirt and shorts, but he was no longer trembling.

 Vanessa refused to be placated by the gesture. "Are you mad or something, going swimming in October?" she said.

"Saw you ready to go in. Thought the water was fine. Got cramps." His voice was still a bit croaky.

She almost blurted out "I wasn't going for a swim, you idiot!" but stopped herself in time. "I used to be a lifeguard," she grumbled. "This cold is nothing." She put on her own clothes and handed back his jacket. He spread his hand toward her, indicating that she should keep it. She dropped it at his feet. It was probably rude of her, but she was past caring.

She hadn't gone more than a couple of steps when he called out, "Hey, you dropped something..."

Vanessa turned back and saw him holding her note in his hand. It must have fallen from her clothes to the sand. She tried to snatch it back, but the content had caught his eyes. She could see him scanning the few short, businesslike lines she had scribbled - "To whoever found this: Please tell my family that I love them, and I'm sorry. I have letters for them in my caravan, #717. Please make sure they receive those. Thank you, Vanessa Curran."

He looked up at her, his brown eyes widened in horror. "What were you doing down here?" he whispered.

"None of your business." Vanessa made to grab the note again, but he moved it out of her reach.

"What were you going to do?" he repeated.

There was no use dissembling now. "I was going to swim out to sea and let the water hold me down," she said, trying to sound flippant. He didn't react to the quip. "It's a Talking Heads reference," she explained. "You know, 'letting the days go by, let the water hold me down'? No?" He still looked blank. She felt foolish. "Never mind. I was going to drown myself, what did you think?"

It took him a moment to digest that. "Why here?" he asked. "You could've done that anywhere."

"We used to come here when I was a kid," she said. "Well, not here here. Newquay. But Newquay is too crowded, so I came here instead. I guess I just wanted to relive some of those happy memories. Could've picked a better time though."

But the boy paid no attention to her rambling. "Have you any idea how much trouble you would cause?" he said. "The park is struggling enough as it is. Words got out that someone killed herself here, nobody would come anymore."

Vanessa wasn't expecting him to attack her with that. She scoffed. "Excuse me if I don't give a shit."

"I won't let you do that to us."

Anger flared up inside her. Who did he think he was?

"Fine. Guess I'll go to a hotel and overdose on pills like a normal person then." With satisfaction, she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you do that," he said quietly.

"What are you, HAL 9000? Try and stop me."

"I can. I'll call the police or a hospital." He waved the note. "This proves that you're a danger to yourself."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Why do you care?"

"You just saved my life," the boy said. "I'd like to return the favor, if I can."

There was something in the simple, earnest way he said it that took the fight out of her. She sank down on the sand and wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees.

"Don't bother," she said. "After what happened there, I realize I'm too much of a coward to go through with it. So I'm not going to try again. And I won't have to, anyway."

The boy sat down next to her, trying to peer at her face. "Why?" he asked.

Vanessa pondered. Was she about to give her whole life story to this stranger? But he had known enough already. And she often found it much easier revealing the naked truth to a stranger than to someone you knew. She could trust the stranger to react with restraint and not become hysterical. "Bone cancer," she said, tapping her leg.

He was quiet for a long time. She could feel his eyes on her, taking in her thin hair, her sunken eyes, her paleness that had nothing to do with the cold. Then he said, "I was going to say 'I'm sorry', but I suppose you hear that a lot."

His honesty was refreshing. "Oh, you have no idea."

"What about your family?"

"They... fuss over me." The mention of her family brought up the guilt that had been eating away at her ever since her diagnosis, the guilt she'd come here to escape but had only gotten stronger. She shook her head, getting rid of those thoughts like a dog shaking off water. "I just want things to go on as normal until they end, you know? But they're incapable of doing that. They insist on treating me as a sick person, and I've had enough of it." She glanced at the boy. He was still looking at her with a slight frown. Salt had dried on his eyelashes, clumping them together, accentuating his big round eyes. There was no pity or morbid fascination in those eyes, just a genuine attempt to understand.

"What's your plan now?" finally he asked.

Vanessa had been thinking about that as well. She was glad that he didn't waste time with some clichés about how her family loved her and only wanted the best for her. "I guess I'll just let nature run its course. Surely it would be no trouble for the park if I die of natural causes here, would it?"

She could tell he was uncomfortable with her easy way of talking about death, but he only asked, "Won't people look for you?"

Vanessa looked sharply at him. "My family knows I'm here. So if you're some sort of crazed axe murderer looking to pick off lonely tourists, don't even think about it."

"You might be a crazed axe murderer," he said, the hint of a smile twinkling in his eyes.

"Yeah, a Cornish Jason Voorhees, going after the staff of caravan parks instead of summer camp counselors," Vanessa sniggered. But she soon sobered as her thoughts returned to more pressing matters.

"The thing is, I'm not sure where I'll go. The park's closing at the end of October, isn't it?"

"Only the holiday vans," the boy said. "The residential ones are still open. There're lots of empty ones for let. Just ask Shirley."

Vanessa made some quick calculations. There would probably be enough money left in her account for a couple of months' rent. "Thanks for letting me know," she said.

He held out the note to her. "You want this back?"

It was no use to her now, but she took it back anyway. "Maybe I'll keep it on me at all times, so if I should drop down dead somewhere, people would know what to do," she joked. "Sort of a reverse 'I ATEN'T DED' note." He looked blank again. "It's from Terry Pratchett's... Never mind." She got up and walked back to the caravan. Halfway up the buff, her tired legs gave out. The boy ran to the top and pulled her up. His hand was surprisingly warm and soft, despite his calluses and recent brush with death.

Vanessa stumbled as she cleared the bluff and fell into his arms. She quickly corrected herself. He also shuffled back, embarrassed.

"Thank you," she said. Then, as an afterthought, "You're Tom, right?"

"Tom Grant."

As she walked toward the caravan, he called after her, "Hey." She turned back. "Thank you. Vanessa. For saving me."

"Don't mention it," she said and continued on her way. To her confusion, she realized she was blushing.

Chapter 2

[mangonatural]

Rules: Make a 24 hour poll with the names of your WIPs, let it run, then work for 10 minutes for every vote the winner receives.

Thank you for the tag, @angelcasendgame!!!!! I am not sure I will be able to work on anything very soon just because life came after me again, and turns out I'm gonna be moving over the next month or so, but I really do hope I can find time!!

None of these have names yet lol. I put the SPN ones first, but technically I've been trying to break my writer's block by returning to The Great Gatsby (It's all Nick/Gatsby btw, just realized that might not be immediately evident) with limited success. It's always come easier for me. But all of this is stuff I do actively want to work on.

Ohh I don't know who to tag. I'm sure everyone in this circle has been tagged already, and most of the people I talk to regularly enough to know about their projects have more or less left Tumblr... I do absolutely want to pass this your way though, @antique-ro-man!! (It's Wes, btw!) I also wanna tag @heyfagbutt! And then anyone else who sees this and wants to participate, I also encourage it!! This is such a cool idea :D !!

Long, rambling explanations down here ⬇⬇

I think the name is pretty explanatory? The gist of it is they go after the same guy and become pseudo-enemies but they keep bumping into each other like this and decide to work together after a while 👍 this is a really bad hook LMAO. Anyway, I'm trying to build on the idea that they work REALLY well together when they do it intentionally but fail comically when they don't.

Pretty much what it says on the tin as well. No Supernatural AU. Dean goes to a community college to get a certification to help with his work elsewhere, but Cas, a figure drawing model, catches him drawing (which Dean's been doing on and off as a hobby) and tries to get him to sign up for the arts program.

I technically only have a summary of this, and I'm not entirely sure if I will write it all out, but I do want to at least put more time into the development before I dedicate to giving up on it bc of scope lol. I just have SUCH a soft spot for fake relationship AUs. Also, I just found out that while I have FINALLY aged into independent FAFSA eligibility, I am once again tax bracketed out. Anyway, financial abuse is real and I want to project my suffering onto Dean. Also immigrant Cas, but I haven't decided where I want him to be from yet. I think this has a lot of potential for some pretty hefty character redesigns too so it's also compelling to me from that angle. I guess I could also write it for TGG, but I did initially think of it for Destiel, so.

I don't know how to explain this one very well except that I had unhelpfully written "poolboy au" in my notes and then proceeded to forget what the hell I meant. This fic was an attempt to resurrect that but ended up being a funky modern West Coast re-imagining where Gatsby can't even "make it" as much as he wants to, and Nick can't find a place to live except for a less-than-legally rented pool house. It's not meant to be a full rewrite or anything though.

Uhhh yeah, I'm keeping the details private for this one ahaha but that's just because it wasn't supposed to be a big deal and I told a friend she would see what it was when it was done...like oh god probably a month ago at this point... My original scope for this was quite small, but research for it, indecision, and a nasty case of writer's block that I've had for nearly a year now have kept development a bit slow. Hopefully, I'll finish it before the year comes to a close.

I also don't know how to explain this one well other than "after being rejected by Daisy (Canon Divergent), Gatsby attempts to buy his way into a bewildered Nick's heart. Though the fic is from Nick's POV, Gatsby's just had his worldview shattered and is in a bit of denial, but instead of pursuing Daisy harder, he channels all of that energy into Nick (though he's not really sure why he's doing it at first). I wasn't sure what to put up at the top because I absolutely don't want my code name for this public at least until it's done LMAO.

[meximango]

Day 15 - portentous - G - Cahsi + Altani + Luvon

Summary: Cahsi, Altani, and Luvon explore some ruins. Luvon feels like a mom wrangling his two children.

--

Luvon had been chattering away to his fairy, tens of yalms in front of his tank and caster, unaware how far they trailed behind. The healer was not supposed to lead the pack, but these ruins were supposed to be void of beasts, so he hadn’t been worried about that. 

The three of them had a simple mission: to reach the final chamber of the temple of Rhalgr to take pictures and aetheric readings for a small group of Sharlayan researchers who did not have the stipend required to travel so far from home to Gyr Abania Also, there was still danger inherent to stepping foot into any ancient dungeon, whether actively infested or not. It was a perfect job for three intrepid adventurers who had retired from saving the world for the time being and had no other pending matters. “Stop.” The lalafell’s light chatter ceased, cutting himself off. It was a command, one of those rare times Luvon took on an authoritative tone. The word snapped out of him with as much force as one of his punches. 

It was enough of a shock to work, Altani and Cahsi freezing mid-step, waving their arms about to keep balance. It seemed like the sort of situation one might whisper for, so Cahsi asked in her smallest voice (better her, as Altani’s whispering was like a standard person’s regular volume): “What’s up?” “I do believe I just heard a most portentous click.” The lalafell at the front of their group stood stock-still apart from the slight swivel of his ears. He did not turn around to address them. Do be quiet, though, as I am listening for more, he did not need to say. Cahsi and Altani shared a knowing look at the back of the group as Luvon continued listening. The red mage and warrior began playing a silent game of rock paper scissors at a rapid pace, best two out of three. Altani lost, as always (Cahsi had faster reactions and always used that to cheat, not that the au ra was aware--and she need not find out anytime soon, either). Well drat. Altani cleared her throat in preparation-- Luvon shushed her, tail swishing agitatedly, but she ignored him. “Lu, I think I know what caused that.” That did make his head swivel around, one eyebrow raised, head tilted to the side. “You do? Please, share with the class, Tani” Answering a question with a question wasn’t likely to earn her any points, especially when he brought out the sarcasm, but they weren’t ready to fess up. “Remember how you told us not to touch anything until we got to the final chamber?” Luvon picked up what she was putting down, if his sigh of restrained exasperation was anything to go by. He probably knew from her tone of voice alone before he asked. He was scarily perceptive like that, the guilt clear as day.

Cahsi, bless her soul, stepped in to help. An attempt was made. “It was a joint effort, really. The statues back there were awfully dusty--” “--we didn’t even take them, honest, just wanted to see them shine! This place is so gloomy--” “--too heavy to be worth stealing, my backpack is way too full for ancient pointy relics--” “Alright, so I dusted a little bit too hard, I think, the head came right off--”

“--was more interested in reading the plaques underneath, it was a matter of education--” “Can’t really blame me for the craftsmanship, can you? Would love to ask the goldsmiths of eld--” “But it turns out the echo doesn’t work with such eroded text. I have no idea what they said. What a waste of effort!”

“The small holes that appeared in the sides of the walls were the perfect size to put the head, so I thought ‘why not’--” Luvon finally cut them off. “Holes? In the walls?” Both of them nodded. “Now that you mention it, Tani, those are new, aren’t they.” “I said what I said, Cas, I can be good at observation just like you!”

Luvon’s face morphed from slight annoyance to a much more familiar emotion for him: nervousness. He had excellent hearing, but visual details often escaped him. The holes had appeared in preparation, but he only noticed the danger after it was already set in motion. At least they knew what kind of trap they were working with. Which they absolutely were--the mechanism was live, and the time wasted on their drawn out confession meant one click turned into multiple as old gears started turning. They only had a few moments before--

“Run. Now!” Luvon yelled. With a quick cast of expedient, they were granted a burst of speed. He shielded them for good measure and tethered the fairy to Altani (the biggest and slowest target), unsure how deadly the projectiles would be. He got esuna ready and flipped and spun his way through the rest of the corridor at top speed, neatly dodging each point that came his way. He wished he could say the other two were as efficient with their dodging. They were further behind than him, to be fair. More chances to be hit. Cahsi yelped and Altani yowled (or maybe the other way around?), shouts of ‘ow ow ow!’ echoing down the hall. The shields broke, and as suspected, the spears were tipped with poison--but they made it through. Unscathed, no, but Luvon had healed worse. One dungeon trap wouldn’t do any of them in, even if he had been a monk at the time. Luvon let his fairy do the rest of the healing once they were out of the danger zone. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot expectantly as Altani pulled a spear tip out of her side scales and Cahsi smoothed down her hair. They were smeared with blood and neutralized poison, looking scruffy but none the worse for wear. This time, Cahsi volunteered to speak up first. “We should have listened to you.” It hurt her pride to admit she’d done something foolish (and likely would do it again, her impulsive nature hadn’t been curbed in all her years of adventuring, and she doubted this minor encounter would change that).

Luvon, pleasantly surprised, should have known better. She wasn’t done. “But…it all worked out! So all’s well that ends well!” To her side, Altani gave a fist bump to the fairy, who reciprocated it jovially. A rather terrible apology, all things considered, but the lack of caution was understandable. This encounter wouldn’t rank in the top hundred of dangerous situations they’d been in. They’d fought and defeated gods--on multiple occasions!--so there was little to fear from some abandoned ruins. Sure, they'd given him a scare, but that's what was expected of his role: mortal fear.

Being a healer could be so stressful, but it was the job he signed up for, especially knowing how those two acted around each other. Barely better than children. Luvon rubbed a hand over his face, clearing his eyes of the dusty grit that pervaded these ruins. “Take care, just a smidge more restraint, that is all that I ask--” When he opened his eyes again, the miqo’te was gone. “Where did she sneak off to?” Altani was playing rock paper scissors with the fairy during that (the fairy was winning 5-1), and the empty spot where Cahsi had been responded with silence. Altani and the fairy shrugged as the score became 6-1, and then he got his answer in the form of a nearby shout that echoed around the corner. “Turns out the ruins are haunted!” The faraway voice got closer. Altani, preoccupied with losing yet another round of rock paper scissors, didn’t bother reaching for their axe yet. “You pull it, you tank it!” she yelled back as Cahsi screamed. Luvon pinched the bridge of his nose and motioned the fairy to follow him. He signed up for this. He did. He wanted to be the healer, insisted on it. “Use vercure until I get there!” He yelled to Cahsi. Then, to Altani, he wordlessly grabbed her wrist and pulled with a strength nobody would expect from his small body. The au ra nearly tripped from the force of it, getting the message loud and clear. 

They grabbed their axe and provoked the ghosts (she’d do a ritual for their passing later, poor things. But right now, it was time to kick ass.)