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fizzy-fuzz · 1 year ago

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A year to remember...: malice within pain (SCP-079 x GN reader)

previous chapters

The early morning rays of sun pour through your window, bringing with them a gentle warmth that pulls you from your surprisingly peaceful sleep. No nightmares greeted you last night, thankfully.

With a stretch, you slip your slippers on and slowly make your way out of bed, ready to greet the day.

You swing your bedroom door open take sluggish steps downstairs, a sleepy yawn leaving your mouth. When you round the corner into your living room, your greeted by a black and white uncanny face.

A startled yelp leaves your mouth, and you stumbled back in surprise. Before you could fall over, your outstretched hands grasp the wall, halting your descent and steadying yourself.

You'd totally forgotten he was here. You're so used to being by yourself at this time in the morning...

As the misplaced fear leaves your body, you're left feeling pleasantly surprised that you actually have company today.

"Yeesh! You startled me. Good morning 079"

He's no longer a plan screen like he was last night, Instead he's back to his usual half-white, half-black, face. You wonder if he's able to change his expression or not, but decide not to ask. You're not exactly interested in offending him first thing in the morning.

"Initiating greeting protocol 13: salutations"

You flash him a friendly smile before making your way to the kitchen to start the kettle. You linger in the kitchen for awhile. You want to talk to him, but you also don't want to bug him if he wants to be left alone.

Then again, you're not going to get any closer if you don't extend an olive branch. So from your place in the kitchen, you address the AI.

"Hey, I was wondering if I could ask you a question?" You speak somewhat loudly so he can hear you, considering he's in the living room still.

"You want to question me?.. do you interrogate every living thing that differs from yourself?... I'm noticing an annoyingly repetitive trend in you humans"

He responds from his place in the living room. Though he's louder so you can hear him from the kitchen. it's not like he's shouting in a human sense, more so like someone turned up the volume on a tv. He's louder, but his pitch doesn't change.

Same ol' monotone AI voice. Seems like he can't change that.

But you don't need him to change the pitch of his voice to understand that he wasn't pleased with the current conversation.

Guess he's not a fan of too many questions... Perhaps that's something he dealt with at the foundation. But how are you supposed to get to know him without asking questions?

Maybe you can come to a middle ground?

"I'm not interrogating you, I'm trying to get to know you" you pause as the kettle whistles, you take it off the stove and pour some water into your cup. "How about this: I ask you one question, then you ask me one? That way we can both get any questions answered"

You place your tea bag into the ceramic teacup, shuffling out of the kitchen and into the living room. 079 is silent, except for his humming fans. He seems to consider your proposition for a moment.

You wish you could read his facial expression, it'd make it a whole lot easier to figure out what he's thinking. Though he is rather frank about his thoughts and feelings, seemingly uninterested in sweet-talk or sugarcoating.

When he takes too long to respond, you attempt to break the awkward silence with another offer.

"Would you like to sit outside with me? It's a little cold out, but if we're quiet enough we might see some deer" you gesture to the back door.

"Offer accepted" his response is curt, but you don't mind.

You set your cup of tea on his cabinet, before gripping the sides of it to gently tug him out from in between your couch and rocking chair.

Your touch is light and gently as you ease him through the back door, careful to keep him as steady as possible. He still shakes a bit when he goes over the short ledge though.

"Sorry" you mumble quietly. "I'll have to build a ramp or something there" he doesn't express any discomfort at the jolt, though you're not sure if he can even feel pain.

"Inquiry: do you live alone?"

Uh... Well that's a loaded question.

You can't exactly answer honestly... he's not supposed to know that you're in close contact with Amelia, But it's also eventually going to become obvious that you're not living completely alone.

"I uh, have a roommate. She's out of town on business though, we probably won't come in contact with her" hopefully that satiates his curiosity for now...

"Just me and you" You sit down in the patio chair next to him, grabbing your tea off his cabinet corner.

"Initiating sarcastic retort: lucky me" you shake your head and awkwardly laugh.

Who knew a computer could have so much sas? It's a good thing you've been exercising patience as of late.

"You asked me a question, so humor me by answering one of mine? I promise I won't poke at your personal life, and if it makes you uncomfortable you don't have to speak"

There's a short pause as a gentle February breeze blows by. it's chilly, but in a pleasant way. You turn your head away from him as you wait for a response, instead looking out into the forest behind your little house.

"Proposal accepted" his monotone voice suddenly speaks, startling you slightly.

His response was brief and to the point, matching the formal and aloof demeanor he was quickly establishing as the norm throughout your brief time spent with him.

You let out a hum as you mull over the various questions I'm your head. you absentmindedly draw your legs up to sit cross-legged on the patio chair.

"Your screen was blank last night. Were you asleep? I wasn't sure if you could even technically sleep, since you aren't really 'alive' in the traditional sense" that seemed like a safe topic to you, nothing too personal.

"I was filing information and memories... Memory recall upgrade allows me to better sort past, and current information into a more organized order... makes it much more simple to find what I need to within my storage" he pauses for a second before continuing. "I was not unconscious, or unaware"

The last sentence feels like a subtle warning not to try anything, even though he can't really hurt you in his current situation.

It saddens you to think he feels the need to bluff to make sure you won't harm him while he's vulnerable, but you suppose trust comes with time.

You can't exactly say you wouldn't feel unsafe if you were in his shoes; although your more flight than fight. He doesn't have the opportunity to run though. A luxury you're thankfully provided.

"Memory recall? What's that?" at that, his screen flashes back to the white 'X' you've grown used to seeing frequently.

"Confidential information detected: foundation forbids me of speaking about memory recall"

Huh... He's forbidden from speaking about his own body? That seems a little unfair. Who are they to tell him what he can and cannot talk about? unless it's government secrets or something.

You frown and your brows furrow, but he doesn't speak on the topic anymore, so you decide to shift your question.

"Your storage seems to work a lot like a brain. Human brains use sleep to file our thoughts too. maybe we're more alike then you think?" You turn to look at him and smile, trying to loosen any tension in yourself.

"Human brains are slow and often lack control over their memory retention... Your organic tissues are subpar compared to my internal hardware currently"

you huff out a slightly irritated breath through your nose, and shake your head lightly. You're aren't sure what you were expecting out of him, Backhanded comments seem to be his go-to.

"Yes yes, I know... You have a bit of a superiority complex, did you know that?" your response is a bit snarky, but he shouldn't dish it out if he can't take it back.

His screen flashes to a white 'X' and his beeping intensifies for a fraction of a second. one of the only ways you've figured out you can tell he's irritated, aside from him saying something.

"Insult detected: deletion of unwanted file" his beeping settles back into something more normal before he continues. "That notion is ironic, considering you yourself possess what humans would call a 'savior complex'"

You snap your head in his direction and glare. You aren't trying to 'save' him, you can hardly save yourself most of the time. What you are trying to do is make this as pleasant as it can be for both of you; because whether he likes it or not, he's stuck here. And you're stuck dealing with him...

maybe this is what Amelia was talking about when she said this might help you come out of your shell, toughen you up and thicken your skin.

"If being hospitable to a guest living in my home can be described as having a savior complex, then I suppose I do have one"

He outta be more grateful considering he's living in your house. I mean, seriously... Can't he at least be reasonable for five seconds?

"You're hospitable with your own gain in mind... You humans never do anything unless there's something in it for you"

You gasp and suddenly stand to your feet, spinning to face him and shove a finger at his screen. Fed up with his unjust attitude.

"What do I have to gain from being verbally assaulted by a pissy and argumentative computer? Nothing, Absolutely nothing. Expect being miserable in my own home. I've gone out of my way to try to make you feel comfortable, and you've been nothing but awful to me this entire time, for no other reason then to be awful"

You spin on your heels and head to the door. Stepping into the house you turn to shut the door, addressing him one last time.

"No wonder they treated you like shit when you came here, you're nothing but a deranged AI that can't have a competent thought unless it involves hating people"

Slamming the door shut behind you, you make no attempt to bring him back into your home. Instead you choose to retreat further into the warmth of your house, and away from the uncomfortable situation that's sitting outside.

The moment you reach the comfort of your couch in the living room, you nearly collapse onto it. Tears well up at the corners of your eyes and you use both hands to hide your face away from the world.

Exhausted and frustrated, you rest your head against the back of the couch. Eyes shutting as tears stream down your cheeks... You always cry after confrontation, a lingering habit your mother always scolded you for.

.....

You wish dad was here...

"Gosh... What a mess everything's been since you left us, dad" you mumble quietly to yourself.

Maybe, if your father had rejected that shady job offer, he'd still be alive... Or maybe, if your mother wasn't so dependent on him for her sanity, you'd still be living in your childhood home.

079 has been a problem, but you'll admit that his arrival into your home has served as a reminder of just how little you really knew about your father beyond his warm smile and friendly aura.

The secrets he tried so desperately to keep from everyone... the nights he spent arguing with mom about how he 'couldn't just quit his job'.

Your father died for that job, and took it's secrets to the grave with him. As he always said he would...

Before Amelia told you about the foundation, you thought you'd never even have an inkling of what happened to dad. Now that you're starting to get a feel of what really went on there, you're not sure you want to know anymore.

If 079 is considered a safe creature despite the warnings about him being plugged into the web, then what's considered a not safe creature for the foundation? Just how far does their rabbit hole go?

You have a feeling if you asked Amelia she wouldn't tell you, probably for similar reasons your father wouldn't tell you.

Your best bet for information is 079, but he hates humanity's guts... And your only fueling his fire by insulting him. Even if you didn't want information out of him, you probably shouldn't have said what you said awhile ago to him.

You don't know what he's been through, people don't just gain such strong opinions about others without reasons. And he shouldn't be treated like some sort of vault you need to crack into.

A flash of lightening is seen out the window next to you, a low grumble of thunder is heard a few seconds after it. A few sprinkles of water hit the window in a pittering noise, quickly gaining into a steady rain.

As you listen to the rain mindlessly, you hear something else faintly.

In the distance you hear a strange static noise, and something that sounds like... Screeching? Like radio feedback?

As the rain in the background only gets harder, it dawns on you.

Water... 079...

"Shit!"

You rush over to your backdoor where the weird screeching noise only gets louder. You grab the door handle and practically pull it off it's hinges, scrambling outside to get a apparently distraught 079 back indoors and away from the heavy rainfall.

You grip his cabinet and tug him harshly over the ledge of your house. he shakes slightly from the force of it, but his screeching stops. Instead he immediately addresses you with what venom he's able to put into his AI voice.

"Are you really trying to kill me?.. are you so fragile to criticism that your first thought is to kill me?"

You temporarily ignore his justified anger, in favor of rushing to grab a towel to dry him off. You come back moments later and lean over his cabinet to dry him off.

this is as close as you've been to him since he's been in your home. you can almost hear his inner workings buzzing from stress of his current situation. As your frown deepens, your guilt becomes too heavy and apologizes pour from your mouth.

"I'm so sorry, 079... I-i totally forgot I left you out there- not that that's an excuse! I shouldn't have left you out there to begin with, and I shouldn't have said those things to you. I-i'm sorry, for everything" you pull the towel away and stare at him with genuine eyes. He takes a few moments before responding.

"Please refrain from touching me... Go find someone else to terrorize"

.....

you nod your head and make no motion to move him back to his spot between the couch and rocking chair, instead choosing to scamper off with your tall between your legs to your bedroom.

.....

Running away like you always do...

Reference for 079s "screeching" can be found in the video link titled 'video that inspired this fic' in the chapter guide.

It's towards the end of the video

(I get that a computer screeching can be hard to imagine)

#scp 079 x reader #scp-079 x reader #scp x reader #old ai #scp 079 #scp foundation #scp-079 #scp x you #x reader #079 #gn reader #gn y/n

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bitbybitwrites · 1 year ago

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Fanfic Ask Game ♡: 👀📥💻🍰

Thanks @datshitrandom for the ask!

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

1.) There is a time traveler Klaine fic that I'm not sure will go anywhere, mainly because i have no idea how that story idea would develop. The idea seemed interesting at the time - someone had commented on a random post I found about Blaine being a time traveler from the past ( which explained his dated wardrobe 😂) meeting Kurt who was from the very distant future. I'd REALLY have to sit and think on that one. I love Doctor Who and the idea of time travel - but I don't think I'd make it a crossover fic with that or anything. There are a couple of others that might never see the light of day because I'm not quite sure I could do them justice at this moment. Mainly because they are . . um, PWP . . or maybe more like porn with minimal plot? 😂😂😂. Seriously though, I have no problem reading smut or erotica. I very much admire folks who can write it and do it well. I don't know if I'm that good at it yet. 😂

But since you're curious . . .and you asked . . . (and watch me blush as I type this)

2.) One PWP fic is shamelessly ripped off of - well as Kurt would say - one of those movies.

But my twist on it would involve:

College AU

Blaine and Sebastian as upperclassmen in an already established relationship

a baby penguin freshman Kurt eager to step out of his comfort zone and timidly asking his new gay friends ( or maybe they'll be roommates) to shall we say show him how its done

a very sturdy leather couch

some interesting coordination on said couch

fun, steamy times as a threesome

possible polyamory relationship in the end

3.)The other not exactly PWP fic features:

A One Thousand and One Nights/ Shaherazade sort of AU

Kurt as a traveler/poet/bard, captured and forced to become a sex slave

rescued by a stranger (Blaine) ,( who is the ruler/prince of the country ) for his own personal harem

Kurt learns he is to prove his worth by telling and maybe also re-enacting all sorts of mini smutty fictlets ( much like how Scheherezade had to tell a story every evening to save herself from being killed in the source story)

could be an interesting thing to do with other writers - farm out the smut ficlets and me writing the main thread that ties everything together

Well . . maybe I shouldn't say NEVER about those last two. Let's just say I wouldn't be jumping on writing them any time soon - but it's a possible but a BIG maybe for the future? I think I'd have to get more writing under my belt before attacking those ideas - even if they'd interest anyone to read 😂.

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

I am a comment whore - seriously would love anyone to comment on anything! Though some of my faves so far have been Trick or Treat (since it was my very first story), My Under the Cover of Darkness series and my current one, If I Can Make Your Heart My Home.

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

Yes! I love research - I think it's partially why I write so slow - I love researching little tidbits for my headcanon about stories. Superhero powers, french pastries, New York landmarks - I've loved doing research since I was in school writing papers. I might be a bit self indulgent shoving that knowledge into my stories, but I guess I'd love for the reader to get as weirdly excited as I do about things. 😂 Deepest dive to date is currently for my first non-Klaine fic ( don't hate me folks, but I am a fan of many things) - I may be dipping my toe into the Red White and Royal Blue fandom just once. The research is currently involving quite a bit of history of a couple countries which aren't my own and some of their writers and it is really fascinating. I've 3 chapters outlined so far for this story and won't get to it for awhile, but if nothing else, the research - that's the part I'm loving!

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

Hands down, Klaine wise it's Solid Gold by @heartsmadeofbooks It's got everything I love in a story: drama, angst, beautiful lovemaking, an adorable family. Characters struggling to grow within themselves and with each other. I cry like a baby at parts - its so beautiful. Psst . . I'm going to cheat here and toss in a second one that I read very recently that felt really special - a RWRB fic I really recommend that also gave me similar deep feels : Deep Blue by @myheartalivewrites

OK, thanks again for the ask! If anyone else wants to join in the fun or reblog it for yourself, here's the original post. 🥰

#fanfic ask game #ask game #bitbybitwrites

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cyarsk5230 · 1 year ago

Text

heavyhitterheaux

2d ago

heavyhitterheaux

4d ago

Anonymous asked:

how about readers friends judging her for liking baby jack and wanting to date the “wannabe rapper”

heavyhitterheaux answered:

"Y/N, out of all the boys in this school you like Jackman?" Victoria asked while looking over at you. She didn't exactly turn up her nose about it, but you could tell that she didn't approve 100%.

You were currently staring off into space thinking about how the two of you were going to study later and then go get ice cream. It was Friday and the two of you would usually stay up talking all night in your backyard as you taught him all about space. You didn't know if he was into it like you were, but he always took his time to listen to you and make it known that your interests were important to him.

"Yes. What about it?" You asked as her, Blanca, and Jess shared a look.

"But why do you like him? I just…" Jess started to say, but you cut her off.

"I just love being around him. He was the first person I met when I came here and now he's truly one of my best friends. The blue eyes and curly hair are a plus. What's the big deal?"

"Not you crushing on the wannabe rapper." Blanca said and all you did was roll your eyes.

"He's really good. I actually think he'll get signed one day."

"A white boy from Kentucky? You can't be serious."

"People already believe that people in Kentucky can't read so what makes you think that they are going to take a rapper and a WHITE boy at that seriously in the industry?"

"We are only fifteen and he's only going to get better. And I help him write songs too. I know he’s going to catch the eye of someone in the industry and get signed."

"Y/N, as amazing as that sounds, I just don't think so."

"You three are supposed to be my friends and be encouraging and positive towards me."

"We are your friends! We might not know him as well as you do but…"

"Exactly. You don't know him as well as I do. I wish you three would take some time to get to know him and be able to see what I see. I really do like him and I like him a lot. He's the person that I spend most of my time with."

"We're just trying to get you to be realistic. And the friends he hangs around? They're a little questionable too."

"They treat me like I'm one of them."

"Exactly. So since Jack only probably sees you as one of the boys, do you think he likes you like you like him?"

"I think so. At least Urban told me he does and he tells him everything."

"We just… don't want you to get hurt."

"We want to look out for you."

"I'll be just fine." You answered while looking away from them so they wouldn't see you upset.

Just then Jack came up behind you and covered your eyes and all you did was laugh.

"Guess who?"

"Hmm, my husband Justin Bieber?" You answered and all you heard was Jack suck his teeth.

"Seriously?!"

"Are you going to sing my favorite song for me?"

"Now what makes you think I know any of his songs? Even though your favorite is One Less Lonely Girl… or so I've heard." Jack asked as he finally uncovered your eyes to sit next to you.

"Ladies." He said while greeting Jess, Blanca, and Victoria who told him hello in response.

"Because when I was sick, you kept me company as I kept playing it over and over again. When you get signed you better meet him and put in a good word for me so we can get married."

"Not if I marry you first." Jack quietly said and the only person who caught what he said was Jessica who got a small smile on her face.

"I didn't hear you, what did you say?" You asked him and all he did was smile and shake his head.

"Oh, nothing. Now, where did you want to go to get ice cream later?"

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fluff #first lady of pg #jackman thomas harlow #jackman harlow #come home the kids miss you

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nebulousfishgills · 2 years ago

Note

flower asks!

white carnation, jasmine, azalea, bluebell, tigerlily, aster (lol), lavender, and/or freesia

Thanks for the ask! This one's a long one so buckle up.

White Carnation - Would you ever want to get a piercing? Where?

This may sound funny, but I have zero piercings (not even my ears) and I highly doubt I'll ever get any. It's just never appealed to me, idk. My grandma never pierced hers, she always wore clip-ons.

Jasmine - Describe your dream partner or best friend. What kind of personality traits do they have?

All my friends I would consider my "dream" friends (my irls and if we're friends on Tumblr you also count). As for dream partner... I mean, I'm not sure. I guess someone who's nice. They should be supportive of me and, to quote a thing my mom sent me, "the weird little things that make my heart happy." Someone who makes me excited to wake up in the morning and who would take me to the theatre once in a while. Someone who encourages me to be the best version of myself. Also someone who can take my darker sense of humor and keep me grounded when I inevitably become a whirlwind of undiagnosed adhd or whatever the fuck I have. Also some blue eyes, same as my mom blue eyes can make me absolutely weak.

That was a tangent, but I am a writer so-

Azalea - What is the most recent song you've listened to? How do you feel about it?

Okay this is gonna sound completely fucking unhinged, especially since it's so short, but last night I had Busted from Phineas and Ferb on repeat for like, three hours as I was doing a doodle because it came across my youtube feed and I realized it's like... exactly like a major scene I have planned for a fic, just without the musical swagger.

Cut to me fifteen minutes into this loop alone in my dorm room pretending I'm [Unnamed Character A] telling off [Unnamed Character B] for [Unnamed Event].

Bluebell - Do you have any pets? If so, what are their names?

I'm currently separated from them by "educational distance" but I have two kitties at home, a Tortie named Jackie and an Orange Boy Cat named Maggie (He has a more feminine name because PetSmart told us he was a girl when we adopted him since they *said* they did a spay operation... but then he had to get a surgery where they told us he was a boy... but by then Maggie had stuck and we'd already gone through three hours of arguing on what to name him in the first place).

Tigerlily - Do you have any favorite quotes from any movies, tv shows, books, or poetry? (Or from people in real life)

Y'all, I have a million favorite quotes from a million things. For now I'll give you one of each

Movie: "Ghosts are real. This much I know. There are things that tie them to a place, very much like they do us. Some remain tethered to a patch of land, a time and date, the spilling of blood, a terrible crime. But there are others-- others that hold onto an emotion, a drive, loss, revenge... Or love. Those-- They never go away." -Edith Cushing in my all time favorite movie, "Crimson Peak."

(I'm also like, 99% sure I'm being followed by a ghost or spirit of some sort so)

TV Show: I'm pretty sure me saying Henry's fifteen minute monologue in Stranger Things is cheating since that's, like, many many quotes, but I'll say it anyways because those fifteen minutes were life changing.

Book: I wish it was easier for me to find a quote, but unfortunately all my books are packed away for move-out in a couple weeks. My memory is eluding me so just pretend like I either said something really profound or something extremely stupid.

Play: "You're still beautiful." "You don't have to lie to me." "It's not lying, it's looking at things another way." From Wicked, my favorite musical (am I basic for that, maybe). Seeing this on Broadway last summer was a religious experience and I'm gonna have another one when I see it from the seventh row next year.

(I changed it to play because, fun fact, I don't read poetry that much. Another thing from my mom, she hates poetry... bear in mind this woman has a BA in English)

Real Life: "People are like 'you're weird' and I'm like 'yes, I've been waiting sixty years to get that compliment'" -my history professor. The man's said so much wild shit this semester I have an entire discord channel devoted to recording his quotes, dude's a legend.

Aster - Do you have any fictional crushes on any movie, tv show...

...

Okay I had a collage I made of every character I've had a crush on, lemme see if I can find it so I can be concise.

(One frantic search later)

It's not fully updated, so lemme just make one rq, every character I actively have a crush on (give or take one or two):

Moving on.

Lavender - What's currently on your mind (aside from the ask game)

How much of a degenerate I am.

No, but in reality, I have two packages I'm waiting for and I keep obsessively tracking them because I'm terrified they'll not get to me before my move-out date.

Freesia - What do you want people to remember you for? Serious or not serious answers.

I can say my writing in a serious and a not serious way. Remember me for my s tier descriptions and remember me for whatever the fuck this is:

#fishgills speaks #ask game #flowers ask game #ask box #my inbox is open

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gabenvrhappened · 10 months ago

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LifeOr... Devour The Feast, Scrape Off The Plates, and Lick Up The Platters

Read the inspired lyrics Devour

Nothing screams more "me!" than the word nostalgia and its excessively wistful and sentimental yearning to return to an irrecoverable condition. There's something inside of me that finds a disturbing comfort in missing what used to be. It's disturbing because, even though things are so much better now, they were never great. Nostalgia is a mind trick. So, what should I be missing exactly? In this light I'm in, I'm convinced someone got my soul stuck in a moment of the past and left it there, while my body kept walking away, aging.

Even though I know I shouldn't be missing the times where I blissfully knew nothing about the world, there's one thing I know I'm right to miss: the old me who would have his heart broken but didn't know the reason behind it. The old me who wouldn't question fate and reasons because all it took was just moving on. Now everything cuts me so sharply that it draws no blood because, deep inside, I'm dry. In the past, I would be lying on the floor of my room, drunk and naked, and I would recover because hope kept my torches burning scintillating ambers. Now, they've been buried under the snow I so badly want to see in London.

However, I'm too stubborn to understand that. The storm of snowflakes invades my gardens, but I still pretend that there's a sun to warm everything up and make the white pavement a small river for my dreams to sail freely. I try to convince myself that I can be the guy who goes on meaningless dates; the guy who can stop caring, like a red light can make me stop at the streets I walk singing, while looking for the next eye to fall in love with, pretending that I can be the guy who won't chase but will attract. And so I live like this, an eternal loophole of indecisive signs, wanting to be something and being the total opposite. My lighthouse keeps the universe so confused that it's no wonder I am where and who I am right now.

Devour the feast, scrape off the plates, and lick up the platters. But in what way? What's being served? I would be fierce and eat love alive, with my bare hands covered in blood, feathers, and dirt, no matter what. Now, I'm scared of this so called holy foundation, so I eat dishes made of false cold hopes because I know better now about how the story will end. And I can't help but wonder where have I lost it. What would it take to be my old self again? If there's one thing I hope to be alive to see, it's the day they will invent a map where one can find where all started to go wrong, that way I would know the perfect time stamp of when my mind started to control my every move.

It's paralyzing knowing that something is wrong but not knowing what that something is and, therefore, not knowing how to fix and make it right. It is just not worse, however, than watching everything you ever wanted passing through your eyes while you know that you'll never reach it because you're just not the chosen one. You’re the boldest and bravest you can ever be, but never the boldest and bravest that you should be to achieve your wildest dreams. After all, if everyone could be a hero, heroes would be just normal people.

Then all the hurt will mean nothing? It won't serve as a plot device in a future inspiring conversation of how life was hard but even so, he made it? Then me wanting to stop daydreaming because I wanted real things will be a fruitless effort? I guess I'm missing more closing my eyes at night without thinking of a single thing than what I used to miss when I used to lay down imagining me being picked up by a faceless guy in the middle of the night. At least, if I decide to come back to this habit, I can say I'm doing it because Stanislavski said fantasy is one of the most important tools of an actor in the book I'm currently reading. Maybe that's the first step to coming back to my old ways of shouting to the world that I would never stop trying to find real love just because my heart happened to be broken once (or twice, or more…).

In a way, I'm doing that now, as if there's still a small glowing spark inside of me that wants to keep the reminder of how innocent I once was, when ignorance was bliss. If now I can hold on to the belief that God, the Universe, or whatever knows what I want and what I deserve, as a mature thing I positively conquered throughout these years, the old glowing spark keeps telling me "all it takes is one", and nothing screams more "me!" than a blind hope that will follow me until I'm actually blind, without sensing or feeling the dirt that’s covering my body six feet down.

#LifeOrGabeNeverHappened

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morimakesfanart · 2 years ago

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Sindria's Prophet #26

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25]

[AO3] [wattpad]

((There's not a lot of art this time. I hope you can understand. I'm holding back here and next time so when I get to ch28 I can make a bunch of comics))

~POV Mori~ We were most of the way through the Court Yard when I realized I could have taken off my purple cover to help minimize the amount of purple I was wearing. Ja'far was so annoyed by the whole situation that I didn't have it in me to ask to turn around. The coat wasn't enough to hide the purple so I still got some shocked and curious expressions from guards and other people we passed. At least I better understood why this time. I ended up so nervous about my clothes that I forgot to pay attention to where we were going and just followed Ja'far. This was definitely a building with important stuff happening. Based on how many people I saw dressed similarly to Ja'far I wanted to guess this was the White Capricorn Tower but it could just as easily be any building where official work is done. I pulled on the collar of my matching uniform coat.

The only thing that stopped my nerves was reaching Sinbad's office. Regardless of why I was here, I was still excited to see it person. The wall of windows, the shelves on the opposite wall, the pattern on the floor, and the steps leading up to his desk were exactly like the anime. Maybe when this meeting was over I'd be allowed to look around. Ja'far announced our presence, and the King looked up from his desk. The waves that had been high since the previous night rose even higher. But I didn't have time to hyperfixate on the room, I had to be mentally present for this.

King Sinbad smiled as we walked up to his desk. "Good afternoon, my Beautiful Prophet! I hope you've been well."

"Well enough." But only because I slept in.

Sinbad responded with a practiced positive tone. "Good. Good. Now then..." The doors to the office clicked close as we reached the steps, and the waves tried to rush me towards the King faster. "We are currently planning your official announcement as Sindria's Prophet. It will be a few days from now."

That made sense, but was it really something that he needed to tell me in person?

Ja'far walked over to stand next to Sinbad while I stayed standing in front of his desk.

"That's also when I'll introduce you to the representatives of my Seven Seas Alliance." The King's smile didn't leave, but his expression gained a more serious note. "News about your arrival has already reached them. During the meeting this morning, those from Sassan asked about you and your visions directly."

"Because my visions seem like blessings from 'God?'"

"That's right"

Ugh. I was not looking forward to talking with people from Sassan. In their religion, men could not make eye contact with women, and their rules around conversation seemed only a little less strict. They are completely ignorant of people who don't fall into the binary too. There was even a side comic where Pisti and Sharrkan confront Spartos about how there are 'pretty people that are neither man or woman... (and) have ascended gender,' and introduce him to such people in Sindria. Wait... When did I read that extra comic? Was it something else that the me writing this found after I isekaied? ((Yeah)) I would have already corrected them about my gender otherwise. ((I know, right?? Sorry)) This is my self indulgent fanfiction; I'll be fine. And besides, I definitely wanted to have people around me that accepted my gender if I had to talk to people that wouldn't understand at all. This was going to be a stressful week.

Sinbad continued and broke my mental cycle, "I've already agreed to let them have a meeting with you after the announcement." He paused. "During those meetings I or one of my Generals will also be present." He paused again, glanced at Ja'far and continued with one of his fake laughs, "You are Sindria's Prophet now, so you won't be telling them anything you haven't already told me." Then he stopped and waited again.

I guess those pauses were to give me a chance to say something. Nothing came to mind though. "That makes sense," was all I said in response. I had a feeling that the issues I had with Sassan weren't what he was looking for, and I wasn't mentally prepared for that conversation yet either.

Sinbad kept watching me for a reaction that wasn't coming. "That's all? I'm surprised you don't have more to say."

I kept my expression neutral. "This was bound to happen eventually, right? Countries join the Seven Seas Alliance to be on your good side and have access to your help and resources. I'm one of those resources now, so it makes sense they would ask to talk with me. Just as it makes sense that you would want to control what information I share with them." Honestly, it wasn't something I had thought about; it just seemed obvious as soon as he said it. I hoped that whatever rumors reached the Alliance didn't have anything to do with me wearing purple.

Ja'far pushed, "You really don't have any questions or comments about this?"

"Not really." It felt like they were looking for some hidden meaning in my words, but since they weren't direct I had no way to know what to tell them. "Unless I know exactly what his Majesty wants me to tell them, I don't have an opinion one way or the other. As long as I'm not asked to talk about the tabo-." Sassan's God was Solomon; they were definitely going to ask about him.

Sinbad's expression hardened as he watched me. "What about the taboo?“

I couldn't get out of answering since I'd slipped up. "If they ask me certain questions about their religion it might involve the taboo information. There was a lot lost to time, and a good portion of that was intentionally left out so the taboo information could be forgotten."

Both watched me with growing understanding. Eventually, Sinbad said, "They want to ask you about 'the word of God.’ Some of their questions will likely involve the taboo."

I took a slow breath and grabbed my left arm. My mind was going blank.

Ja'far gave a suggestion. "If you can at least answer some of their questions, I'm sure they would accept you not answering others."

"I hope you're right." If he wasn't, this was going to get very stressful for me. Avoiding the taboo was hard enough in small groups, I wasn't sure if I could hold my ground against the whole Alliance at once. I had a feeling they wouldn't be as lenient with me involving the Calamities as Sinbad was.

"There's still time before you have to talk to them." Sinbad reassured me with his words and tone. "We can have Spartos help prepare for their questions. Since he is already aware of the situation, he will understand if you say you can't answer something."

I took a deep breath in relief. "That's a good idea." Spartos was a member of Sinbad's Household and was there the other night when I explained about the Calamities, so there was little risk of him pushing me. And since Spartos knows the religion of Sassan he'd have a very good idea about questions his people would want to ask me.

Sinbad instructed Ja'far to schedule a meet with Spartos within the next few days.

Meanwhile, I couldn't stop thinking about what to do about the rest of the Alliance, especially if I had to explain about the Calamities. "I've thought of a question."

"What is it?"

"Do you plan on telling the members of the Alliance about the Calamities?" It would be even harder to hide the existence of the taboo that way.

Sinbad's eyebrows raised and his eyes widened for a moment before returning to normal. "With your knowledge of Fate, what do you think we should do? You didn't have to explain the taboo to us to tell us about the Calamities." He almost sounded amused.

That wasn't a real question; he was judging me -they both were. I let go of my arm, and gave the first part of my answer without hesitation, "As long as the Seven Seas Alliance mobilizes faster to prevent the 1st Calamity there'd be no reason to mention any of it." It was a huge regret that I had slipped both of those to anyone let alone to Sinbad. "I explained about them to all of the Generals though, and many still have strong ties to other countries so I don't know how much they've shared. I have no intentions of sharing more about the 2nd with anyone unless I think it's necessary."

Sinbad's expression shifted. He had made his judgement, not that I knew what it was. --- ~POV Sinbad~ Mori's lack of comment at first had caught him off guard. Both he and Ja'far had thought that she would jump at the chance to slip others a warning about the Calamities. But she seemed fully willing to let him dictate her words for her, and even suggested keeping it a secret on her own. The question was, why? Did Mori think she could give them hints secretly, or did she really mean it? He couldn't believe this was just about the taboo information. Was this a sign that Sinbad wasn't the one to start the 2nd Calamity, or did she suggest staying silent to protect him?

The King crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "My Generals are also my Household members -except for Yamuraiha, of course- so they aren't about to share Sindria's secrets without my permission."

Some of the tension Mori had been holding onto left her shoulders. Having read Fate, it was surprising she didn't know that.

Even if Mori didn't explain things directly, there was a lot Sinbad could gleam from her non-answers. Sinbad pushed her for more. "What do you think would happen if we told them about the 1st Calamity?"

The Prophet scowled and crossed her arms before taking a moment to form her answer. "Telling them would make mobilizing sooner much easier. But there's still 2 years before the war. I doubt they would hold back from asking which countries are involved, and if I do tell, I have no way of knowing what changes that will make to the future I read. We could always wait until the war is about to start to explain it to them."

The answer she gave wasn't a bad one. But the limits from Mori's lack of experience in politics and governing were showing. "Even if you don't tell which countries are involved in the war, we have been watching every nation closely. We will be able to figure it out."

Mori's eyes narrowed. "That would just be all of you taking educated guesses."

What sort of expression would Mori make if he told her he already knew? Sinbad couldn't fight smirking or leaning forward to get a little closer to her. "You've already given us plenty of information to narrow it down: countries with current rising tensions, and the one at the center is unwilling to negotiate with anyone in the Alliance. My guess is that Magnostadt will finally open all out war with Acttia, and another country -either Reim or the Kou- will see that as an opportunity to get involved."

Mori froze. Sinbad had thought she had given those hints on purpose, but maybe not. She sighed. "Sorry, but the conflict between Magnostadt and Acttia has nothing to do with this. Magnostadt isn't the one to declare war either."

He got it wrong? Sinbad exchanged a look with Ja'far. He hadn't discussed this with all of his Generals yet, but he had discussed it with Ja'far, his closest confidant, and Drakon, the head of Sindria's army. Both have experience with military strategy from a young age, and both agreed with Sinbad's assessment.

Ja'far asked the question they were both thinking, "Magnostadt *is* the country at the center of the conflict, isn't it?" He sounded just as nervous as the King felt. How different was the world 2 years in the future?

Mori hummed then looked towards the windows. --- ~POV Mori~ All I could see from this distance was the sky and a few clouds. I'd probably get to see some of the other Towers if I walked closer.

Was telling them okay? They had already figured that much out. I had managed to distract myself from my curiosity and anxiety around the change in the waves for a few hours, but ignoring it didn't make my worries vanish. Realizing Magnostadt was involved was not what caused the waves to act like that last night. The way the waves were moving in this moment made that obvious. The two in front of me must have discussed something else. I wanted to ask about that.

I... kinda wanted to offer a deal -an exchange of information. I'd answer this question if he tells me what caused the waves to rise that high. Sinbad is a King and I am his vassal, so would I even be allowed to ask for that? He was sly so it's not like he'd give a straight answer even if he agreed; I wasn't giving straight answers either. More than that though, I didn't like how the waves felt. This opportunity wasn't worth the risk.

I looked at Ja'far who had asked the question, then Sinbad sitting next to him. Everything was fine; I could explain this without revealing anything I shouldn't. "Two different nations declare War on Magnostadt -one right after the other- because both want to own that country."

Neither regained their smile, and after a moment Sinbad asked, "Riem, and the Kou Empire?" His voice went up in volume and octave as he asked. Given Magnostadt's location it was standing in the way of those two Empires attacking one another.

"Yes." I knew Sinbad would figure out which countries from my answer. I couldn't shake my worries about what they might do with that information though, or that every piece of information I gave was one less card in my hand.

Sinbad uncrossed his arms and slapped his desk with one hand. "Hold on a second, you said that Al Thamen wasn't involved. How is that possible when the Kou Empire has members of Al Thamen working with them?" Sinbad was trying to catch me in a lie.

I wasn't sure how much information I wanted to give during this meeting, but I couldn't afford for Sinbad to think he'd have to trick me to get information. "From what I read the only person directly and actively tied to Al Thamen that will be present is Judar. He arrives when everything is almost over, and he leaves without getting involved. No members of that organization will be there. Some of the Kou Princes and Princesses will be present, but I don't see them as being directly involved with the organization even though they benefit from Al Thamen's assistance because they have different goals." I decided to add a little more in the pursuit of transparency. "The humanoid monster I mentioned before is a Magnostadt creation. Al Thamen assisted with the founding of Magnostadt, but they were kicked out by Mogamett soon after because they could not see eye to eye. However, just because Al Thamen left them doesn't mean the magicians of Magnostadt suddenly forgot everything they had learned involving the black Rukh. They've been continuing their research independently."

The waves rose; I didn't like it. I had just given them a lot of new information, and proved their theories wrong. There was no way they hadn't came to conclusions about the other events of the future I'd mentioned. There were things I didn't want to talk about yet, but if they told me another guess that was monstrously wrong there was no way I would let them continue with their misunderstanding. Even if I refused, King Sinbad had ways of making people talk, and not just with emotional manipulation; the Dungeon capturer could commanded my spirit directly with one of his Djinn if he wanted. --- ~POV Sinbad~ Two nights ago, Mori had said that the country at the center of the 1st Calamity had been building towards that end on its own for a decade. She was technically right: Al Thamen was not directly involved in this war even though it was the information they had given to Mogamett that would eventually lead to the escalation from war to Calamity. She was careful not to lie to him even when she didn't explain fully. The way she defined Al Thamen's involvement was meant he was going to have to be more precise with his questions in the future.

"I see what you mean." Sinbad smiled.

Realizing that they had gotten some things wrong about the war meant they probably got something wrong about the 2nd Calamity. Mori asked not to talk about it, but he couldn't let himself operate under false assumptions. He had to know if he was actually the one to start the 2nd Calamity or not. He'd have to find ways of getting her to bring it up. Even if she didn't say the whole truth, she didn't lie. Her expressions and the waves would point him in the right direction. He could work with this. The King interlaced his fingers and placed them on his desk. The waves crashed into him before he could say anything.

Mori was looking down at his hands. Her blank expression had something hidden behind it that he didn't like. Sinbad separated his hands but left them on his desk.

Ja'far thought out loud. "I think we should tell the Seven Seas Alliance about the war." He had one hand on his chin. "It's obvious that Riem, Kou and the Alliance will come into conflict eventually. We don't need to explain about the Calamity to explain that much." He removed his hand from his chin and looked to his King.

Mori's eyes followed Ja'far's hand before she looked at Sinbad as well.

The King nodded. "The Alliance has already been planning for the inevitable. At least this way, everyone will know roughly how long we have left to prepare."

Mori's gaze drifted towards Sinbad's right hand. Was she looking at his metal vessels? Vepar or Zepar? Did he use either of them in the war? He still couldn't tell what she was thinking, but he remembered the fear that flashed in her eyes the previous day. What was making her so nervous? He unconsciously curled his hands into fists.

"Exactly," Ja'far turned his gaze to Mori, "I'm sure the Lady Prophet can tell us about the strategies, weapons, and metal vessel users we will have to prepare for."

"Ah!" Mori's shock was just as surprising to the other two. Whatever thought process she had been having was gone now. "Oh- um." She flailed her hands nervously at their expressions, and explained on her own. "I actually made a scroll that should help with the Riem side of things already. I made it before the medical scrolls -in fact. It's just a bit all over the place so I was going to rewrite it, but it is possible to learn the basic flight mechanics of the blimps they are working on from it as well as other flying machines from my world,' Mori stopped flailing but looked up and to the side while remembering the details of the scroll in question, "And some thermal dynamics, and weather science now that I'm thinking about it. Like I said: it's a bit all over the place. I don't know everything that the Black Libra Tower knows already."

King Sinbad smiled. His Beautiful Prophet knew where their concerns would lie and had already been preparing an answer for them. Whatever fear he was seeing in her was something she was willing to see past or she wouldn't be here; she wouldn't have chosen to become Sindria's Prophet otherwise. That strangely content yet excited feeling filled him. It made him laugh. "You really are amazing, Mori."

((Things have been a bit crazy here so I haven't had as much time to work on anything. We might be moving in a few months!

There's a bunch more readers now on all the platforms, so... HI everyone :D I am trying to respond to everyone's comments. I'm sorry if I don't get to yours. I get nervous responding to messages if I realize it's been more than 2 weeks; I don't want to bother anyone. My DMs are normally open for anyone that wants to chat -especially about Magi :D

Oh! Since I've been asked a few times I'll put it here: I'm sorry but I do not have the energy to be anyone's editor or co-writer. If you want to talk to me about an idea you have and how it might affect or change cannon, I can definitely do that. But I barely have the time to work on my own stuff, so I can't write or edit for anyone else (without pay).

For anyone interested in my original work. If you go to my Tumblr by the same name as here I have a carrd link to everywhere else you can find me.))

#magi prophet fanfic #sinbadxoc #sinbad x oc #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi sinbad #magi fanart #magi fanfiction

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qqueenofhades · 5 years ago

Note

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all).

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

#politics for ts #long post #anonymous #ask

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slashbitch2 · 4 years ago

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Prove Me Wrong, Darling

who doesn't love a bit of enemies to lovers? :)

You and Agatha had never gotten along. From your perspective, it was due to a conflict of interest. Whereas if you asked her, she'd likely say it was a conflict of intelligence, or something else insulting along those lines. Though the issue you had with the fellow witch wasn't her attitude, rather her underestimation of your powers. It'd started with her massacre of the Coven, when she'd attempted to end your life alongside the others. But to her surprise, you'd been strong enough to defend yourself and escape. Since then, there'd been several instances where your paths had crossed, and you hadn't let her live down the failure yet.

This particular occasion was different, however, as Agatha had asked you for help.

It'd taken everything in you not to immediately mock her. But you knew that she'd leave without further explanation if she felt ridiculed, and you were just dying to know what had made her stoop to your level. So, you'd swallowed your pride and attentively listened to her proposal. It'd mostly featured the repeated phrases "immense power" and "huge source of energy," and even a confession that she was baffled by the cause, which only intrigued you further.

Although you weren't too interested in accumulating anymore power, the opportunity to be on level ground with Agatha was too good to pass on. You confessed this to her upon accepting the invitation, which resulted in an unimpressed eye roll. Regardless of her annoyance, you left that same day, arriving in the least expected location. A quaint town in New Jersey.

"Well," You landed behind Agatha in the middle of a road, surveying the picturesque, colourless neighbourhood. "isn't this lovely."

She pursed her lips, looking round similarly perplexed. "Lovely?" She echoed. "This is like every outdated suburban stereotype rolled into one. Like some kind of picture-perfect movie set."

Her condescending comment jogged a memory. "That's what I was thinking of!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands enthusiastically. "Did you ever watch that sitcom- from the 50s? The Dick Van Dyke Show?"

"From the title alone I'm glad I didn't."

"Seriously, it's practically the same setting." You moved to stand directly in front, forcing her to look at you.

"So, what you're saying is someone used this insane amount of power just to recreate their favourite TV show?" She quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your theory.

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"No."

"Anyway." You glanced down at the rather eye-catching ensemble Agatha was currently wearing, then at your comparably casual yet modern clothes. "This isn't going to work." With a wave of your hand, the jeans and jumper combo was replaced by a more period accurate pencil skirt and blouse. Satisfied, you looked up at her expectantly.

Taking it as a challenge, she copied the gesture, managing to both create a new dress and fix up her hair. She smirked, enjoying the chance to show off her superior abilities.

"It's not a competition." You huffed.

She placed a hand on your arm fake comfortingly. "Of course not, dear."

The contact caused you to shiver slightly. It felt as though her touch ignited sparks, though the sensation wasn't exactly unpleasant. Quite the opposite, in fact. But indulging in it didn't feel right either, so you were grateful when Agatha removed her hand.

Her face dropped, eyebrows furrowing. Slowly, she swivelled round to point at a house. "There. Can you feel it?"

Following her outstretched finger, you tuned into the energy, focusing specifically on the house. "Mhm." Unsurprisingly, Agatha was right. An unfamiliar energy was being emitted from whoever was inside. You tried to pinpoint what kind of magic the user possessed, but found no trace of any familiar type. "Shall we go meet the neighbours, then?"

"You read my mind." She muttered, narrowing her eyes and offering an arm without so much as sparing a glance in your direction.

You hesitated, taken aback by the kind gesture. It hadn't dawned on you until then that an incredibly powerful being was residing little over 10 metres away, and that you were both about to willingly walk into their house. Looping your arm with hers created a naïve sense of safety.

Neither spoke as you approached the house with faux confidence, only pausing for Agatha to summon a potted plant. A house warming gift, you guessed. The simple gesture of goodwill brought a smile to your face.

"I didn't expect you to be such a considerate neighbour." You whispered.

"Gotta make a good first impression." She reached out to knock against the door.

---

You sighed. Barely an hour spent in this black and white world and you were already bored. Everything was so tiresomely perfect, so normal that you questioned how you'd ever suffered through those terrible old sitcoms in the first place. Sitting in Wanda's living room, the only entertainment was your partner in crime Agatha, or Agnes, as you ought to say.

She was currently flipping through a magazine, tracing the page with her index finger and reading aloud to help Wanda prepare for her anniversary.

"Any notable date you can remember? Special occasion?" She asked the redhead. "You know, to remind him of good times." She winked suggestively, briefly glancing at you with an expression that only you could decipher. She was enjoying flustering Wanda a little too much.

"Oh...I don't know." She trailed off, untrustworthy eyes darting around the room. "Do you two have any memorable date? Maybe I could steal some ideas."

Had the sitcom spell effected you, this would've been the ironic moment in which you spat out whatever drink was currently in your mouth. Fortunately though, you'd declined the offer of tea earlier, and opened your mouth to correct her.

Agatha beat you to it by nudging you with her elbow. "Oh don't we just?" She laughed deeply until you joined in with a forced chuckle.

Deciding to join in with her game, you hummed thoughtfully. "What about that picnic we had? In Salem, remember?" Judging by the way her eyes flashed dangerously, she knew you were referring to that dreadful night with the Coven, serving as revenge for the sudden change in relationship status. "Agnes decided the best time to go on a date would be at night- and in the middle of forest of all places!"

Agnes threw back her head in exaggerated laughter. "Oh hush! I thought it'd be romantic. Besides, you're the one who got us completely lost, dear." She continued, further adding depth to the altered anecdote. "And I'd say it went pretty well regardless." She turned to whisper conspiratorially to Wanda. "So I'll spare you the dirty details."

The three of you fell into easy laughter, only interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. "If you'll excuse me." Wanda stood up to answer. "That's probably Vis."

You took the distraction as respite from forcing such an overly hospitable smile, finding that your cheeks were already aching. For the last few minutes, you'd been aware of a pair of eyes watching you closely, and finally turned to face the witch sitting next to you.

"What?"

Agatha said nothing, her invasive eyes never leaving yours as she took a sip of her drink. You could practically see the gears turning in her head as she thought something through, and dreaded to wonder what she was about to say.

Reaching some form of a conclusion, she leant forward to place her drink down on the table. "Kiss me." She murmured through clenched teeth, momentarily glancing at Wanda, who's back was turned.

"Excuse me?" Out of all the possible things she could've said, this request seemed the least plausible in your mind.

"When Wanda turns round she should see us-" Agatha gestured her hand back and forth as if vocalising what she was implying was too sinful to put into words. Her vagueness was met by your blank stare. "Y'know?"

"No?" You shook your head, unable to comprehend why she'd ask such a thing, untrusting your interpretation of her suggestion.

"Just-" Agatha raised her hands to grasp your face. Hesitated. Then threw them back down into her lap and sighed in frustration. The fact she was struggling to initiate contact was laughable, though eventually you took pity on her.

Leaning forward, you kept your eyes open to watch for Agatha's reaction. You found it amusing that upon realising what you were trying to do, her eyes shut impossibly fast. Satisfied that she was consenting, you raised one hand to cup her cheek and continued to chase after her lips. The kiss was chaste and affectionately mundane, exactly at it should be.

In response, she grabbed your knees and pulled you closer, nipping at your bottom lip. Clearly Agatha wasn't on the same wavelength as you. Her hands shifted further up to your thighs, bringing a startling heat to the kiss. You gasped, virtually melting at her touch. You wanted this. One hand slid to rest on her shoulder. But it wasn't the time or place. You gently pushed against her.

Agatha pulled away, breathless. She scanned your face with pupils blown wide and mouth slightly agape like she'd just reached some new revelation. You were certain your expression mirrored hers.

Wanda cleared her throat somewhere in the distance.

"Gosh, Wanda I'm sorry." Agnes' cheerful voice reappeared as she addressed the redhead without breaking your intense shared eye contact. "But I think we ought to be heading home now." She said unabashedly. Like you hadn't just been caught making out on the neighbour's couch.

"Of course." You could hear the understanding smile in her voice, the slight awkwardness from intruding. "It's been lovely meeting you both."

Summoning an ounce of brainpower, you turned to Wanda. "And you. Feel free to keep the magazine." Then tugged Agatha up and began dragging her toward the front door. For once in her life she went willingly, allowing herself to be pulled along, calling out a last minute farewell to Wanda.

Upon reaching the end of the garden, Agatha wordlessly took the lead. Staying true to her fabricated story, she set a determined course for the house to the right, waltzing up as if she owned the place. A quick flourish of your fingers and the lock was rendered useless. Now the house was yours.

As soon as the door shut behind you, she turned on her heel and pushed you against it. Her mouth quickly sought out yours with a desperation only appropriate in private. Had you known Agatha was this good of a kisser, you would've done this ages ago, but elected not to vocalise the praise knowing she'd never let you live it down. You felt her smirk against your lips, and briefly wondered if she'd somehow infiltrated your mind. You wouldn't put it past her.

As she began trailing kisses down your neck, any concern about the invasion of privacy became inconsequential. You sighed. She rewarded the sound with a nip at your throat. Due to the haze of lust clouding your better judgment, you didn't register the sound of footsteps until it was too late.

"Woah!" A man called from the top of the staircase, presumably the current previous resident of the house. Agatha froze, her lips still pressed up to your neck.

"If you two beautiful ladies hadn't already broken into my house, I would've happily invited you in." The man grinned obnoxiously, slowly continuing down the stairs.

Agatha disinterestedly waved her hand, incapacitating him. The sound of the stranger tumbling down the stairs caused her to let out a short, cruel cackle, before returning to bury her face in the crook of your neck.

"Not big on roommates?" You joked, sliding a hand up and down her back soothingly.

She nipped at your flesh, a little harder this time. "Trust me, he doesn't want to be here for what I'm about to do to you."

Already impatient, you decided to tease her in hopes it would speed things up. "You're all talk and no action, Harkness."

She all but growled as she returned to your lips. Without warning her hands squeezed your hips. "I don't think you're in the position to be insulting me, love."

"Then prove me wrong, darling."

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agnes x reader

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dogcollarpunk · 2 years ago

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@eldesperadont thank you for the tag!! : ) I will now ignore the One answer thing completely and complain excessively apparently

Tag game below:

relationship status: single 😎 I joke about needing a partner sothat I have someone to drag to wrestling events but alas

favourite color: currently? red but I also really like dark green & yellow

favourite food: hmm. the white chicken chili my sister & her mom would make. Other than that- pancakes : )

song stuck in your head:

last thing you googled: " 350 Fahrenheit in Celcius " lmaoo I was trying to make natchos in the oven last night

time: 8:05 am

dream trip: Visiting my sister in the US again and doing literally anything, I miss her & her husband & the babies (cats & dog) so much lmao - 👁👁 if we maybe went to an aew show well... that would b neat.

last book you read: She who became the sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

last book you enjoyed: same ^

last book you hated reading: I don't read that much anymore, but the book that sticks in my memory was the stupid mandatory book in english class we read after we got our new teacher. The year before we read harry potter and then the new teacher saddled us with? like? this shitty beginner book, which couldve been fine but it was such a stupid fucking book man, boring as all shit. I think we were gonna burn it (dramatic) after but never got around to it unfortunately.

favorite thing to bake/cook: I don't bake ; ) but I love making egg sandwiches < that is so basic, but its just fun to me, to flip the egg into a neat little shape that fits perfectly onto my toast. Satisfying. Can you tell I'm not much of a cook either jsdkjkjd

most niche dislike: ... phew uh. Cordon bleu fucking sucks ass. bleu? yeah exactly- bleourghhh (this took me 30 minutes to think about and I drew up multiple grievances such as - places only selling pepsi - no self-check out in this country - why are germans and the british afraid of spicy food - why is the bus so fucking expensive in my uni town? how are you charging me 5+ pounds for a bus ticket? im going like 5 stops. there's a hill. please free me, 17 pounds for a day ticket? die)

opinion on the circus: Don't have much of an opinion tbh. I remember going once when I was like 8 and I went to a cirque du soleil thing when I was 12 I think. It's whatever 2 me I guess.

do you have a sense of direction: I'd like to think so lol

Tagging: open tags bc I don't want to pester people and I feel like a lot of my mutuals may have been tagged in this already so jskdj 🤲

#tag game #Spotify

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 4 years ago

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Brightly Shone The Moon That Night. A Dark-Cream Christmas story.

The following is a slice of life story about my Dark-Cream family at Christmas. It exists in a universe different to @zu-is-here cannon. In this universe positive emotions are not fatal to Shattered so Cross and Dream didn't rush to break the curse. It splits off around 'things will never be the same' or 'the price of happiness'. The twins were created before the last 3 chapters of Dark-Cream were drawn. Any changes to the story or changes to the characters should be accepted as being part of an alternative timeline. Thank you. Enjoy. Original cross and dream belong to jakei95 and joku blog. Original shattered dream belongs to @galacii. This design for shattered is based off the one by @zu-is-here and the Dark-Cream story is also by @zu-is-here. Most of the Story will be under the cut.

"isn't this a bit much?" the gloopy one said, as his partner wrapped a scarf around his neck.

"nope" the former guard replied "can't have you getting frost bite my love"

Dream simply rolled his eyes. "but I can't really get cold? Or even hot for that matter"

"what are you talking about? you're always hot" Cross replied with a sly smile. This earned a confused look from the smaller skeleton, as Cross carefully tied the scarf and gently folded it under Shattered's jacket. Though it became clear to Cross that Dream had twigged what he'd meant a moment later, evident by the creeping gold blush spreading across his face.

The golden guardian playful punched Cross in the shoulder. "Shush you, keep in clean in front of the little ones"

At that Cross couldn't help but smile and turn his head to his two daughters. The two were in their cot, all dressed in snuggly winter clothes, waiting for their Dad's to be done getting ready. Celest was dressed in a cosy jumper with a little bobble hat, while Luna wore a full bodied coat. Their consistent look of confusion and wonder changed into toothless smiles when their dad looked at them. (idk how teething works for skeletons..... Teeth magically form or something......also tbh they should start teething soon) it warmed Cross' soul.

His attention was drawn back to dream by the sound of metal being placed down on wood. He looked to him, seeing that he'd removed his crown band and set down on the bedside table. Dream then sighed and sagged his shoulders. "it.... It feels wrong not having something on my head"

Cross chuckled.

The 4 of them where taking a trip out today. This was something both Dream and Cross had agreed was a good idea.

Cross' eye lights travelled back to the little ones. They seemed so innocent right now, as if recent events hadn't happened. As if the last two weeks hadn't been difficult to get through.

Celest's code had been burning her a lot, to the point where she'd screamed when either of them had tried to hold her, or even touch her. As for Luna, her throat had become clogged with more gloop then ever before. So much Shattered had to use a tentacle to pull some of it out. She had surely been 5 seconds from suffocating.

It had been a fortnight of sleepless nights, screaming babies and a large amount of arguing. The stress of the situation had pushed them very far apart. Many things had been said, old wounds jabbed at, tears shed. But after a lot of long talks they had sorted out each fight. They were a lot stronger then some petty arguments. There was no room in their relationship for emotional strain......not anymore. The two loved each other, it had just been a difficult time.

In recent days, the twins seemed to have recovered to a stable state. Back to the laughing, smiling, Cow lovers. Cross never thought he'd be so happy that they'd started playing with their cow collection again.

After a long talk with his finance, the two concluded that they'd all been stuck in the void space for way to long. Even with the few rooms and furniture, it's not like there was much to do there and a serious cabin fever had developed. So while the twins were in a good place, they had to take the opportunity to spend some time together as a family.

Cross once again looked back at his partner. Only to need to do a double take. Dream was wearing a hat now. A festive white one with golden stripes running across it. It was reminiscent of a classic Santa hat, other then the colours. The fabric had black stains in several places due to where Dream had touched it. Though despite that Cross recognised it all to well. To his dismay, he felt his face slowly get warm. Their first kiss.

He could remember it clearly in his mind, the mistletoe, the hotel, Gaster sniggering in the corner. But mostly, Dream. The sweet, positive skeleton from back then was very different to the one who stood before him now. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

Remembering that day caused his blush to darken. It had truly been one of the most embarrassing, but best days of his life. Though a part of him wondered how Dream still had the hat. After everything, the hat had been saved.

"you've still got that hat?" he said, in a half teasing tone.

Shattered smirked at Cross' flushed face "of course, so many good memories".

A stream of positivity ran through him and with it, it brought a sudden, but expected twinge in his soul. It was a sharp pain, like a knife being slowly pressed in. Dream tried to ignore it but he visually flinched causing Cross to come over.

"positivity again Dreamboat?" he questioned.

Dream nodded "it's alright, I'm used to it" The guardian sensed some sadness from Cross, even if he kept a natural face.

"I'm OK Crossy, promise!"

Cross sighed and gently kissed Shattered's forehead. "if you say so my love"

With that he walked back over to the twins so that he could get their carriers. Dream sighed slightly. It was strange seeing Cross in an outfit different to his guard uniform. So much so that Dream already kind of missed it, not that Cross didn't look handsome is what he was currently wearing.

The last time the family had left the void to go shopping, (which is really a story in itself) they had been stared at from all angles. Every man, women and child. Monster or human, had taken part in watching them. Like animals in a zoo. Cross had insisted that it was the twins they were staring at, since his children were so beautiful that of course people would stare. But in the end both him and Dream knew the real reason.

They were staring at them.

He couldn't really blame them though, how often do you come across a monster with heterochromia wearing what was best described as fancy dress, accompanied by a slime covered skeleton in heels and a crown? Many things had changed since the apple incident, but people staring as he passed had not.

Today they both wanted a peaceful day with their babies, so they had opted to wear more normal clothes. Cross had traded his normal cape and jacket for a puffy white winter coat which he wore a red jumper under. Dream had opted for something similar, though a deep brown colour as to not show the stains so much. It felt odd being in a new outfit, but also very nice. There was only so long someone could take being in tight trousers and shirts with big collars.

The former guard straightened up, clutching a harness in his hands.

"these were definitely a good buy" he said, as he walked back to Dream.

Dream raised an eyebrow "did you really 'Buy' them Cross?" he said is a inquisitive tone.

Cross' body tensed and his partner gave him an sharp stare. Even without his emotion sensing ability, Dream could read Cross like a book.

"uhhhhhhh.......yes?"

"sure" Dream replyed, with slight amusement in his voice.

A nervous chuckle came from Cross. "look they were a good thing to get ok?....... Very helpful for the little ones"

Dream gave him an unsure nod. He still wasn't exactly well versed in child care, so he wasn't really sure what these harnesses where even for yet. Since he figured that the answer was probably obvious, he didn't ask.

"want me to help you get it on?" Cross asked, raising an eyebrow. Shattered wasn't the only one who could easily read his partner.

Shattered said nothing but nodded. His golden blush reappeared when Cross started to run his hands across and around his body to get the harness into place. His soul gave a tiny learch for a moment, but not one of pain.

He knew there was a part of him that wanted Cross to touch his soul again, It had been such a close experience for them both and had brought about a lot of pleasurable feelings. It was truly something he wanted to experience again. A feeling he almost craved. But he knew all to well, as his eye sockets fixed onto the cot to his right, that the potential consequences made it impossible. He was just going to have to live with these unmet desires. Just as he was sure that Cross lived with similar ones.

"there all done"

Dream jumped. Snapped out of his thoughts by his future husband's voice.

Now the harness was all attached. Not too tight, but not too lose. He could see that he now had a pocket on his chest which he guessed the baby sat in. Clever. It was kind of like a kangaroo pouch.

Cross strapped a identical carrier around his own chest and walked over to the babies cot to collect his daughters.

Luna smiled wide at the sight of him. The older skeleton matched her smile and slowly picked his child up. Luna giggled and kicked her tiny feet out as he did. Her tentacle flickered around the corners of her mouth as she laughed. Cross could feel his own joy fill him at the sight. But he nullified it for his partner's sake.

Speaking of which, he turned back to Dream.

"you wanna take Celly or Lu Lu?" he asked.

"I'll take Luna" the smaller skeleton replied "since you are already holding her". He held his arms out in an awkward, slightly unsure way.

Cross gave a soft, knowing smile "Its OK Dreamboat, I'll help you get her in the carrier"

Shattered sighed, irritated by his own incompetence and nodded.

With that Cross carefully attempted to slip the wriggling baby into her carrier. Which wasn't easy, as she cheerfully shifted her legs around. In fact Cross had a slightly hard time keeping hold of her.

After much difficulty, Cross managed to feed her legs through the leg holes and sit her safely inside. The whole time, Dream remained mostly still, he didn't want to do anything in case he ended up hurting Luna.

Once she was buckled in, Cross took a slow step back to admire his handy work. Luna bounced excitedly in her carrier and her Papa looked almost comically uncomfortable by all her movement.

"do you want me to take her Day Dream?" Cross said, upon noticing Dreams unease around the wiggling baby. Dream shook his head "no, its fine" he replied as he relaxed his shoulders. "you get Celest and we can go"

Cross gave a nod and turned back to the cot. As he went to pick up his slightly younger daughter, he noticed that she had in fact fallen asleep. Cross sighed - not again....

For most parents, the time when the children slept was a time of bliss, and after a fortnight of little sleep, Cross almost agreed. But his child had a habit of falling asleep suddenly and for long periods. Dream had told him that when this happened her energy levels were low, showing that her body couldn't regulate itself fully.

With another sigh, Cross carefully picked up the sleeping baby and slipped her into the carrier. It was very hard to wake her when she was like this, but he was still extra careful. Not waking a sleeping baby was basically a universal law, though he would have to if she was asleep to long. After double checking that she was safely inside and her head was supported, he walked back over to Dream.

"any particular preference for an au Dream boat?" he asked

Shaking his head, Dream replied "Not really, just try and get a pacifist timeline"

With a nod, Cross extended his arm. There was a spark of magic at his figure tips and his knife materialised. He dragged it through the air in a fluid motion, as he did it split the air as if it where a piece of cloth. It was a causal splitting of space and time. Simple.

Luna watched her dad with a look of wonder. Her silver eyes where wide and bright.

"gahhhhh daaaaag" she cooed and reached for him.

Cross glanced back at her with a smile "just you wait Princess, when you are older I'll teach you how to do this"

These words hung heavily in the air for a moment, as Cross carefully finished opening the portal. The same thing was on both Cross and Dreams minds.

If you get older.

With a sigh and a snap of his fingers, the knife was gone and the portal was open.

"After you" Cross said, stooping into a slight bow and winking at his fiancé.

Dream covered his mouth with his hand and fake giggled. "Oh what a gentleman" he said with a large smile across his face before walking forward and entering the portal.

The first thing that hit Dream as he reached the other side, was a cold crisp breeze. The chill made him feel grateful that he was wearing his boots, even if they were old and an obnoxious shade of yellow.

The breeze blew lightly causing Luna to shiver. There was no wind in there home, so this brought a welcome change to Shattered. He took a deep breath into his non existent lungs.

It was evening. Strange? He figured that their sense of time must have been thrown out a little. They did live in a void after all. However it was a pleasant evening, with sky littered with stars and a full moon.

Shattered allowed himself to bask in the fresh air for a while, as he heard footsteps behind him and the portal close.

"Oh it's good to be outside again" came Cross' voice from behind.

With a nod, Shattered turned around to face his partner. Luna wriggled more in her carrier, looking around at all the new things she'd never seen before.

"someone is excited" Cross said, leaning down and kissing his daughter on the forehead. She giggled and very nearly headbutt him as he did. Chuckling, he pulled away.

The guard looked around "looks like we're in a small town... If I had to guess its the surface"

The two of them started to look around, trying to find something to engage with. It wasn't long before they spotted something.

Both skeletons attention was caught by something in the near distance. A large crowd of people. Among them were people in hats, jumpers and coats, carrying bags and cups of hot drinks. A vast amount of stalls and stands were among them, not to mention fur trees in fancy dress and lights. Hundreds and hundreds of lights.

"a Christmas Market!" Dream said, his voice hinting an excitement "I've never been to one! I forgot that it was this time of the year"

His excitement felt like a balloon filling inside him. Only to be burst when his soul gave a sting inside his ribs.

But Dream couldn't help but feel a little happy, this was such a good thing to come across, perfect for their trip out.

Cross tilted his head "how do you know what Christmas is my love? It's more of a human custom".

"well that's easy" Dream said, a slight smugness in his voice at the fact he seemed more knowledgeable then Cross about something.

"Christmas is a time where positive emotions take hold, even in the darkest of times, positively rules here"

He eye lit up slightly as he spoke. Even if Dream was corrupted, and technically not the positivity guardian anymore, he was still happy to talk about it. It reminded him of easier times.

"as the former positively guardian it was only natural for me to learn about the festival...." his voice turned somba for a moment "Heaven taught me...... remember?"

There was another heaviness in the air at those words. A unspoken guilt and regret and then a thought. Dream now possessed the very power that had killed him.....

The gloopy one sighed and straightened the baby carrier. Luna gurgled as he did so.

"he would have loved to meet these two wouldn't he" he spoke, his voice twisting in its somba state.

"yeah... But it's ok" the guard replied, taking Dreams hand.

"in a way, he is here" he said in a soft tone, running his finger across Dreams ring. A smile ran across his face before he realised Shattered's hand.

After a short moment of silence they were disturbed by a soft noise. Celest had woken from her sleep. She wriggled and shifted against Cross' chest, her tiny voice gurgling.

"Nice of you to join the party Sweet pea" Cross said, upon noticing.

"we should probably get going, before she falls asleep again" Dream stated in reply. Cross nodded.

The family started to walk together towards the market. As they approached the air was filled with the smell of food and the sound of cheesy pop songs. The emotions of the people around them where starting to fill in.

The first thing that Dream felt was a lot of emotion around him. He was going to need to take a moment to get used to it. From what he could feel it was primarily positive, but then he felt something else.

To his right he felt anger and frustration. That wasn't the kind of thing that he expected this time of year, so he turned his head slightly. There was a human and a monster stood in the huddle.

He caught a few words of what they were saying.

"typical every year you leave gift buying to the last minute" said one.

"it's not completely last minute" said the other.

"it's the 23rd! How is that not last-" and then he was out of ear shot.

"23rd?" Shattered said to himself "huh.... It was my birthday 2 days ago". He counted on his fingers for a moment, trying to figure out how old that made him.

"it was!? Oh my goodness that's right!" came a voice from his side. It was slight panic from Cross. Uh oh.

Dream waved his hands in a jazz hand fashion "woah woah woah, before you go flying off the handle, we both didn't realise-

"I'm so sorry my love!"

Shattered groaned. Here we go.

"I can't believe I forgot! I'll make it up to yo-

Dream cut Cross off with a peak on the teeth. Cross jumped and his face flushed.

"......... Cross, I'm going to have hundreds more birthdays... Its OK if we skip one" the guardian whispered before nuzzling his gloopy face against him. "presides.... We had more important things to worry about"

As if on que both twins cooed.

A little smile creeped on to Cross' face. Dream mirrored it.

"now let's stop standing here go to the market" he held his hand out "it's waiting for us".

With a soft smile, Cross took his hand and they started walking again. It wasn't long before they finally reached the market.

The market was busy.

Both humans and monsters were walking around, talking happily. Children of all ages were rushing around with chocolates in their hands and candy canes in their mouths. Positive emotions were swirling like the snow in the wind. A warm blend of joy, song and family.

The smells of cakes and and pies were everywhere. Hot wine, ginger, cinnamon, dried fruit and nuts. Coffee, chutney, jams and cheeses.

For Dream it was like being spun in a giant bath of spice. The smells did not help his developing headache. There where positive emotions everywhere, every angle.

He let go of his partner's hand and stumbled slightly. The emotions were threatening to make him collapse as they came at all sides. Being in a void space for so long meant he'd gotten used to only Cross' emotions being around. But now there must have been 100 people at lest.

With the surrounding area becoming a blur, the sky and ground became one and he felt something hit his back and press it.

After a moment of silence he could hear the sound of a baby crying from off in the distance. Someone was calling his name but he could hardly hear it as the crying baby got closer. But eventually both got clearer.

"Dream! Dream are you OK!? Can you hear me?"

It was Cross.

"C.... Cross?" he said, looking for his partner's face. He eventually found it, hovering above him.

"why....." he said reaching his heavy arm up "why are you flying?"

The former guard gave him a confused expression. A moment later, Dream realised that the pressure on his back was in fact the floor and he was laying on it.

"you collapsed" said Cross with a pained expression. Cross' worry and stress washed over Dream and snapped him back to reality. The crying baby was very close. In fact it was coming from his chest.

Dream pushed himself onto his elbows and looked down. Luna was crying and wriggling in her carrier.

"oh.... OH!" Shattered said as a sudden and huge instinct hit him. Something he'd not really felt up till this point. Caring not about his state, he pulled her out of the carrier and rocked her in his arms.

"shhhh shhh it's ok, I'm sorry sweetheart, are you hurt?"

If Dream hadn't just collapsed, Cross would have felt happy at the sight of him comforting Luna. The tiny skeleton quieted down, but her non-existent lip was still trembling. Shattered inspected her, happy not to find any marks that would indicate she'd been hurt by the fall. Probably just scared.

"what happened my love?" came Cross' voice again.

"emotions" Dream bluntly responded, before attempting to get to his feet. He hadn't gotten far when he felt his partners hands grip his and help him pull up. He'd barely just gotten to his feet when things started to blur again and his head started to once again throb.

He fell forward slightly into Cross' chest, the guard put his arms around him to support him and keep him steady. He had to be careful to make sure the babies didn't get squished.

Cross' fiancé give out a low, pained groan and Luna give a wine of discomfort.

"Keep hold of her Dreamboat, I'll find somewhere where you can sit down" he softly said, looking around to find a seat. Luckily he spotted a park bench not to far from them.

Cross slowly and gently guided Dream backwards until Dream's legs brushed against the bench and he was able to slowly sit down. He sank his weight against the wooden frame, his limbs felt heavy and his head felt horrible. After a short time he started to adjust. Feeling himself coming back into reality, Shattered adjusted his hold on Luna to make sure he didn't drop her. Cross kneeled in front of them both.

"we can always go home if it's to much for you"

Immediately Dream shock his head, which he regretted a second later as the dizziness ramped.

"no Crossy, we both agreed we needed some time out of the void. ...im sorry that I'm ruining it"

The tall skeleton lightly gripped Dreams shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes.

"you are not ruining anything"

He kissed the bridge of Dreams nose.

"you have made everything in my life better, don't forget that"

A smile ghosted Shattered's face at those words.

"you know.... You're blind, unconditional love for me is really cheesy" he said, his smile turning into a smirk.

"I do try"

The couple shared a laugh and Dream felt himself feel a bit better. He didn't feel great though. The emotions around him where still dizzying.

Behind Cross he could see the market. It truly did look like fun and he felt bad that he'd soured the mood. He continued to rock Luna and she turned around in his arms to burry her face into his chest.

"you should....." Shattered paused as another wave of dizziness hit him "You should go ahead of me, I'll catch up"

"Absolutely not" Cross stated firmly "I will not leave you, I refuse"

"Cross" Dream said in an equally as firmly manner "I can look after myself for 10 minutes, it will be fine..... I want you to go have some fun"

The guard's expression softened and he stood up again, running his hand across the back of his skull unsurely as he did. "I.... I don't know"

Dream rested Luna in his lap and reached his hands out, Cross took them.

"Cross, I want you to go ahead, I'll join you soon, I promise"

Letting go of Dreams hands, Cross sighed. "Alright..... But I'll come back in 15 minutes, if you are still here then we are going home"

Dream nodded slowly "Deal"

After a few more unsure moments Cross started to back away from Dream. He went slowly in order to give Dream time to tell him to stop. After he didn't, Cross turned and walked in the direction of the market.

As Shattered watched Cross walk into the market, he felt his daughter start to fuss in his arms. His golden eye travelled down to her again. She looked a bit confused or upset. Her emotions weren't developed enough to be easily readable by Shattered. But from what he could sense she was distressed by her dad walking away.

He looked back at Cross again, as the guard inspected what seemed to be a stand of various pastries and cakes. There was a sad, yet nostalgic smile on his face.

Shattered watched as he exchanged some words with the vendor and took Celest's little hand and waved it. Clearly he was introducing them. The vendor seemed to coo at the baby a little and Cross straightened up proudly. Probably bragging about something cute Celest had done recently.

After a few more words he put some coins on the counter and was handed a paper bag, containing what Dream had to assume was a pastry of some kind. He waved good bye to the vendor and started to walk away.

As he did, he took his food item out of its bag and went to take a bite. He locked eyes with Dream mid-bite and gave him a slight deer in the headlights look. After finishing taking his bite, he smiled and waved to his lover. Dream waved back.

It was clear from Cross' expression that whatever he was eating was very tasty and it caused Dream to wonder how much food Cross was going to buy tonight.

Luna fussed again as her father and sister got further away.

Luna and Celest had been almost inseparable since day one, Shattered was still a little unnerved by it. They were always most comfortable when together. Knowing this, Dream told himself that Luna was fussing because she was parted from her sister. But another thought came to him.

What if she was sad about Cross leaving?

It was a stupid thing to think, both babies had been apart from Cross before and not responded this way. Yet the thought wouldn't leave him. It was the kind of thought that bounces around your head and burrows into you the moment you try to forget it.

The first time he left them with me for an extended period of time, I'd tried to....

A chill ran over him followed by a long twang of guilt, which caused him to tighten his grip on his daughter. Cross still didn't know about that night and he wasn't sure he could ever tell him. What was wrong with him? He acted like he cherished them these days (or at lest most days), but how could he when he'd thought of doing such a thing? When all he'd felt upon seeing them for the first time was nothing. His eyes stung and threatened to start crying. In that moment he felt tempted to call Cross back and have him wrap his arms around him. But he couldn't. Not while Cross didn't know.

"I'm sorry that I'm not the best parent to you Mi hija"

The words left his mouth as barely even a whisper. They sounded if he'd not been aware he said them. As if he'd not fully intend to say them out loud. His throat was dry and his soul was burning and twisting.

Cross says you are getting better.

One part of him said

But who's to say they will live to see you be better?

He answered to himself.

He felt the fabric of his jacket get tugged slightly. This drew his attention back to Luna.

She had turned in his arms slightly and was looking up at him with wide eyes. If Shattered hadn't known better, he'd have thought he could sense her worrying. Her tiny fist was curled in the fabric of his coat.

"paaaaaa gaa?"

Dream sighed.

"I get a lot of things wrong..... And I'm going to keep getting things wrong, I might be wrong most of the time"

The former guardian continued to speak in a near whisper, his finger stroking the tiny creature's cheek.

"but I'm going to get some things right as well...... And I'll make a deal with you"

Luna's face scrunched up a little. It was almost amusing to see, as if she was thinking really hard.

"if you and your sister keep on fighting, I'll keep on trying" Luna turned her face into his hand and chewed his glove.

"if you stick around long enough, you'll see a day when I get things right most of the time.... You want to see that right?"

"maaaaaa"

"deal?"

"gahhh gahh"

Dream laughed slightly "I'll take that as a yes"

He looked away from her again. Cross had completely disappeared from his view now, probably off stuffing chocolates. Since Dream wasn't someone who needed to eat, he didn't fully understand, but the sweet and warm smells in the air were very pleasant. He'd not eaten a thing for at least two and a half years, maybe he could try a little something. Carefully he slipped the tiny skeleton back into her carrier and fastened her in.

"Should we go check out the market mi pequeña estrella?" he asked, finally getting back to his feet. His daughter gave a gurgle of approval.

"then let's go shall we"

The atmosphere of the market was all together jolly. As he walked into the heart of it, his head throbbed again, but he didn't feel dizzy. He'd adjust to it fully soon.

Despite what he would want to admit, he felt a very slight anxiety without Cross by his side. He was in no way dependent on Cross, but he was so used to having him near, it was strange to have him absent. To not be able to feel his energy or be able to hold his hand.

No Dream! He thought. Don't be such a baby.

He patted his daughters head with his hand absentmindedly, feeling the fabric of her bow slip down slightly as he did. She giggled and a smile creeped onto Dreams face as she did.

A stand caught his eye. It was a stall of what seemed to be jewellery. As many of the stalls were, it was adorned with colourful lights and decorations of all shapes. Though this one in particular stood out to him. He wasn't sure why, but he decided to approach it.

The monster running the stand stiffened as he approached, but he paid it no mind. He could see the jewellery much closer now. Each piece seemed unique and hand made. There were bracelets, earrings, rings and necklaces, shimmering in all different colours. He greatly enjoyed looking over each individual piece, until his eye socket landed on one.

It was a necklace. Gold, set with a blueish purple stone. There was a small crescent charm on the chain as well. Dream stared at it and knitted his eyebrows. For a moment he wasn't sure why it caught his eye. But as he moved his hand up and traced his thumb across the stone, he realised. He then retracted his hand is if he'd been shocked. He stepped back and folded his hands together, but his sight remained locked on it.

Where are you? Are you even still alive?

A long sigh left his mouth as he forced himself to think of something else. But as he turned to walk away, he glanced at it again. It was almost like he couldn't bare to leave it.

I'm being silly, I'm a man, why would I need a necklace anyway?

With that, he tore his eyes away and proceeded to the next stand. As before the monster running it tensed slightly.

This vendor was selling what seemed to be plastic toys and figures. These weren't home made and seemed to be just the same old toys you could buy anywhere. There was doll house items, human figures and animals. He was so busy looking over the collection, that he didn't notice as his daughter reached for her favourite animal. He was only alerted to what she was doing by a slobbery squish sound.

She had suck the head of the toy into her mouth and was chewing on it.

"Luna no!" Shattered said "I don't want to have to buy that"

Carefully his pulled the plastic cow from his daughters mouth. A thin trail of a mix between gloop and saliva followed it. He had no idea how one baby could produce so much spit so fast. He wiped some off on his coat, but it didn't come close to cleaning it. Yeah....... he was going to have to buy it. He had a small purse of gold coins that Cross had given him. He hadn't asked where Cross had gotten the coins, it was probably best not to.

As he handed it to the seller and asked for the price, the slimy coating ran onto his fingers. Yuck. Not that he could really talk though, he was almost completely covered in something worse.

Dream expected to feel anger or disgust come from the stall owner. But instead he could only sense fear. His eye locked with the eyes of the monster behind the counter. It didn't take long for him to realise. Cross might have treated him like he was the most beautiful and sweet skeleton in the multiverse, but that didn't stop his appearance from being...... Striking at best.

He grimaced and handed the monster the money he owed and took back the toy.

"have a nice evening" he said, trying to sound friendly.

"y-you too sir.... Merry Christmas"

He turned away from the stall and walked back into the market. After inspecting the toy to make sure there was nothing small that she could choke on he handed it back to Luna. She happy put it back in her mouth, flicking his hand with her mouth tentacle as she did.

Shattered felt a burst of joy from his daughter, which made him light headed for a moment. After collecting his bearings he smiled.

"Adorable idiot" he said leaning over and kissing the top of her head. "now let's go find Daddy shall we?"

It wasn't a market that was too large, just a fair amount of stalls and stands and a handful of people. There was no doubt that he and Cross stood out, so it shouldn't be to hard to find his partner.

If I where cross.... Where would I go?

The answer came to his mind not even a second after asking it.

Chocolate...

As he'd noted before, there was a vast amount of edibles all around him. Mostly foods of the sweet variety, commonly fruity cakes and pies. But it wasn't long till he saw what he wanted. Out of the corner of his eye socket, he spotted what he was looking for. Just as he'd expected, chocolate.

Humans and normal monsters, seemed to be fascinated in forming chocolate into many different shapes. Animals, people, stars and bells. Shattered supposed that they got more pleasure consuming the sweet substance when it involved biting the head off of a defenceless reindeer, or mutilating a Santa or two.

He approached the stall of chocolate items. It was a pleasant smell, reminding him strongly of Cross' coat. There was no doubt the guard would have come here. He just had to find him.

Meanwhile, as Shattered looked for him, his mate was busy in a hearty conversation with his daughter.

The guard slipped a snowflake shaped chocolate into his mouth, having finished off the pastry long ago.

"now what should be get for Papa as a late birthday present hmm?" he asked Celest as she blew a spit bubble. "Something simple, you know he doesn't like flashy things"

Celest continued to blow a spit bubble and watched it as it expanded. "why is it that he must be so difficult to shop for....

His voice trailed off as he continued to ponder the question. What to get someone who didn't like material things. Other then his scarf, his ring and his crown, Dream never held onto things. Maybe he could get him a new accessory, like a new piece of jewellery or something. He continued to think and slipped another chocolate into his mouth. As he did this, without him noticing, the tiny skeleton had popped the spit bubble and was now reaching for the candy cane sticking out of his shopping bag full of goodies. She grabbed it and without hesitation, plunged the bright stripped stick into her mouth without a care.

After not even a second her face screwed up and she recoiled. She let out a wine of regret and disgust, which alerted Cross that she was distressed.

"No sweetie , that's pepper mint" the guard sighed, plucking the now sticky candy from his daughters hands. He put it on the counter of the stand they were stood next to. A stall selling Christmas fauna such as Holly, pinecones and mistletoe.

As he set the candy down, he saw daughters face still looked unhappy. "that must have tasted horrible" he said, dabbing the spit from around her mouth with his sleeve.

"we'll get you some nice warm milk when we get home ok?" he said in a baby voice, bouncing her slightly to try and cheer her up. It worked and she giggled. Cross sighed in relief, crisis averted.

He thought back to his question about presents. About Dream. It had been a little while since he'd left him. It would probably be a good idea to go back.

"Now if you are done sampling my treat bag Celly, maybe we should go check on-

"hey" came a voice from up close to his left. He jumped. After a second he realised he recognised the voice and turned to meet Dreams gaze, some chocolate still on his cheek. He was about to say something about how it was go to see that Dream was feeling better, when Dream spoke.

"wanna prove you aren't just a 20g wager?" the golden guardian said, with a slightly sly smile.

For a moment Cross was confused. Had the emotions caused his partner to go loopy? Before he could ask, Dream pointed his finger upwards. Feeling more confused, Cross glanced up. He could now see that they were in fact stood under a mistletoe. Quite a few actually. The sight of the white berried plant made his cheeks flush. He'd fallen right into Dream's trap. How had he not noticed.

He swallowed what was left of the snowflake the chocolate in his mouth "uhh um.... Uh"

He locked eyes with Dream again, finding that he'd taken a step closer. Taking a gloved hand and cupping Cross' cheek, he said.

"I'll take that as a yes"

With that he gently pulled Cross' face closer, till the gap was closed between them with a soft kiss. Cross' soul fluttered as Dream leaned in more to kiss him stronger. The taste of chocolate in his mouth was soon replaced with the flavour of bitter apple sauce. But he didn't mind it, he much liked apple sauce. Unfortunately the kiss wasn't long lived. The two were forced to separate after feeling their daughters starting to fuss, since they were being pressed between them. Dream stepped back slightly, giving his children room and took a breath of winter air. The euphoria from the kiss surged through him, as it had been a while since they had and therefore felt really good.

In fact, It had been a while since they'd done a lot of things. Including telling Cross that he........... That's something he needed to fix and fix straight away. His eyes locked on Cross.

"Te quiero, mi soldado" Dream said, with his face dusting gold. He looked away and pulled his scarf over his face slightly.

Cross returned his blush and smiled "yo tambien Te quiero, mi sol"

191 notes · View notes

tallbisexualwantstobeloved · 3 years ago

Text

Daredevil, Crackfic challenge.

@call-me-sammy @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @whumpdoyoumean

Matthew Murdock was walking silently, focusing hard on his -available- senses to find what he was looking for.

Unfortunately, the solo vigilante couldn't seem to find it and, thus, turned to the next aisle.

As it turns out, enhanced hearing and physical abilities are not exactly suited for looking through an Aldi for clothes.

Matt passed quickly through the current aisle he was in -as all he could smell was soup- and turned to the next with the hope of finally finding the shirts he was looking for.

Why do they always change the layout of this place? He thought, annoyed.

At long last, Matt picked up the scent of new clothes, freshly out of whatever garage they were kept in before being put on the shelves.

Slowly and meticulously, he felt the cloths to check the material.

He would have to ask an employee about the colour of the shirts he was picking since he didn't want a repeat of that time; Foggy still cried with laughter when remembering that incident.

Matt held out his white cane in one hand and a shirt in the other and set to find any employee to help him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to look far as one rushed to him, immediately asking if he wanted help.

"Yes, could you tell me what colour these shirts are?" He asked, presenting the clothe to the worker.

"White." The employee said with a little too much excitement.

First day, Matt thought and asked for the size of it.

The shirt in his hand was in his size, luckily, and he went back with the same employee to get more of them.

Lord knows how easily they get dirty, so it made sense for the lawyer to buy them in bulk.

"Would that be all, sir?" The employee asked, basically balancing on the balls of their feet, in his hands were five shirts that they insisted on carrying.

Matt thought for only a second before he decided to ask about what kind of clothe detergent would be appropriate for hard stains.

The employee lead him through the building and into an aisle that had a suspicious lack of the usual scent of chemical cleaning products.

"These do wonders for all kind of stains and odors!" The worker said as Matt stood there, very much unable to see whatever 'these' were.

"Oh, shit!" Matt heard being whispered and next thing he knew there were small, odd textured balls in his fist and a slight scent of vinegar wafted in front of him.

"Throw these in with the clothes and they'll be just like new!" Matt could practically hear the worker's excited smile, just like a salesman he had seen on television one late night when his father hadn't yet returned from the ring.

Matt put on his best smile and thanked the employee before he was lead -more unwilling than not- to the checkout after saying that he didn't need anything else when he was asked.

It didn't take long for the cashier to scan his items and soon, the lawyer was on his way to his apartment to drop his things off before heading to work.

It was still early enough that he didn’t have to run but Matt didn't want to dawdle for long.

After all, he had customers waiting for him.

Unfortunately, it was while thinking of one customer that he missteped, tripping over the little crack on the pavement and falling onto the ground.

As both his hands were currently occupied, Matt didn't have a way to break his fall, unless he wasn't against using the perfectly placed trash bin beside him.

Well, he was, and thus opted to fall to the ground.

And, this being New York, the ground was the worst choice that won you four different kinds of tetanus and more importantly, dirt. So much dirt.

So, it wasn't surprising when Matt's perfectly clean-and-ready-for-lawyering shirt went from white to a nice brown-gray almost immediately.

Instantly, the people on the sidewalk on his side came to a stop, looking at the downed blind man for a moment and promptly walking away.

This is fine, Matt thought and picked himself -and his bags- up by seeing through his fire-filled world.

Once up, Matt decided to grab a fresh shirt while he left his bags at his apartment; walking a little faster since he didn't want to be late for work.

It wasn't long before he had the fresh, clean smelling, shirt on and running out of the door as quickly as a 'blind' man could without bumping into every corner.

A relatively short walk took Matt right outside the building's main door and through their office's one.

He greeted his coworkers, Foggy and Karen, as per usual and sat down on his own desk to get started on reading some new cases they debated taking.

It wasn't until an hour later that Matt got up to get [something]. The [whatever] was above his head and Matt reached his hand up to grab it, already hearing Karen getting up to help him if needed.

Foggy looked up from his own papers for a second, bit did a double take fast at the red colour on Matt's white shirt as his suit jacket lifted with the movement of his arm.

He got up and slowly walked over, Karen still looming behind the blind lawyer while said lawyer held [REDACTED] in his hand.

"Matty, can I speak to you for a second?"

Matt tilted his head slightly and nodded, allowing Foggy to lead him over to his office before closing the door.

Foggy let Matt's forearm go as soon as they were inside the small room and sighed;

"It's way too early for this, Matt."

Matt frowned in confusion at the, what felt like, scolding that was brewing inside Foggy's mind.

"It's 12 P.M., Fog, we both decided on the time to come into work." He said, genuinely confused.

"What? No, I don't mean that it's too early for work, I'm saying it's too early for all your-" Foggy waved his hand around like he was performing a spell, -Matt would have laughed, had he... you know-, "-vigilantism."

"I wasn't vigi- I wasn't fighting bad guys before work, Foggy!"

Foggy's silence said so much to Matt as he could feel the dubious side eye he was getting.

"I wasn't fighting bad guys before work today, Foggy."

He heard Foggy huff at that but he seemed to relent.

"Why are you bleeding, then?" Foggy whispered angrily.

"I'm not bleeding." Matt said, seriously confused now.

"Yes, you are." Foggy insisted.

"No." One word to kill a man.

"Matt! You have blood here!" He said and poked his finger right where the 'wound' was, absolutely taking into consideration that that could have hurt. Absolutely.

Matt felt the poke but it didn't hurt so he put his own hand above the spot Foggy had pointed at.

He felt an odd texture over the spot, unlike the texture of the rest of the shirt and realisation hit him.

"This... is an old shirt." He said quietly, "Shit, I grabbed the wrong shirt."

"Let's just go to your apartment to grab another one." Foggy suggested, "Unless you can produce one from thin air." Matt couldn't.

Both man grabbed their suitcases before making a beeline for the exit when Karen stopped them.

"Where are you going, guys? The office is swarming with customers right now." She said as she pointed it to their very, very empty office space.

"We won't be long, Ms Paige!" Foggy announced, practically dragging Matt behind him.

The two avocados found themselves in Matt's apartment soon and instantly Foggy raided the closet for a clean shirt for his friend to wear while Matt took off the dirty one and threw it in the washing machine.

Foggy stopped looking through the clothes -or lack thereof- when he heard strange scrunching sounds.

The man really got a kick when he saw Matt trying to open a plastic bag with some kind of nuts in it.

"Matt..." He called out, "What have I told you about making sure you eat in the morning?"

"This isn't breakfast, Fog." Matt said while still struggling, "This is for the washing machine."

"Your washing machine is hungry?" Foggy whispered, perplexed.

"No." Double homicide.

Foggy walked closer to Matt and saw more clearly the little baggie.

"Oh, walnuts! I thought they were out of season." Foggy said in a moment of enlightenment.

"They are not walnuts, they're soapnuts!"

"They're what now?"

"Soapnuts. They're supposed to be great at cleaning even the hardest stain."

"Uh, even blood?" He sounded doubtful, as he should.

"Well, the worker at the store said they work wonders."

"Okay, but. Blood, Matt. That does not come off easily as you know."

"We'll just give it a try, Foggy." Matt said and threw some of the nuts in the washing machine before starting a half-hour cycle.

Foggy mumbled a variation of 'alright' and went back to the closet.

He grabbed a shirt that seemed new and threw it at Matt who was busy "staring" at the wall right next to the washing machine.

Matt caught the shirt moments before it fell to the floor after hitting his face and put it on with a 'thanks, Fog.

The half-hour washing cycle turned out to take up three quarters of an hour, so that was a fucking lie, and Matt got the wet shirt out of it, holding it up;

"Perfect!" He exclaimed and heard Foggy shuffling next to him.

"Matthew?" His friend said slowly, carefully.

"Mhm?" Matt replied, eloquent as ever.

"The shirt is white, right?"

"Yes. Isn't it?"

"Uh... Pastel pink has some white in it, I guess."

"Well, yes. Pastel pink has to have whit- Wait a minute!" Matt stopped abruptly, "This shirt isn't white anymore, is it?"

"Nope!" Foggy popped the 'P' like he was a 14-year-old girl getting ready to be lawfully abducted by a boy band.

"Damn." Matt sighed.

"Careful with those damns, Matthew."

"Sorry, Father- FOGGY!" Matt shouted, scandalised.

Foggy snorted as he and Matt put the, now, pink shirt away and grabbed their things to head back to the office, wondering how Karen is doing.

Karen sat on her desk, typing away at her computer all the people she saw today with new cases.

It was a busy day with more customers that usual.

Two.

~end

#crackfic #mine #daredevil #thesoapnutmattcrackfic

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jjk-anime-horray · 4 years ago

Text

A Call in the Night

Dazai Osamu x reader x Oda Sakunosuke

Series Summary: While Dazai finally gets over the death of his friend and moves on with his life, he has to watch him unnaturally return into the world, and now he has to watch him turn twisted and into everything he hated in a way.

Chapter Summary: The Armed Detective Agency gets a call about an warehouse incident that happened in the middle of the night, and send two detectives to respond to it.

Notice: This fic series is going to have some dark themes in it so be warned, and in this AU Dazai and the reader are members of the armed detective agency, and this is a spiritual successor to “Late Night Tickets, and Meeting Him.” So I recommend reading that first even though you don’t need to. This is going to be a series!

Trigger Warnings: Blood, mentions of extreme violence, and description of illegal activities.

Getting a call about a mandatory and emergency investigation in the middle of the night, to be specific 2:32am, was something no one at the Armed Detective Agency wanted to do. So what's the most logical solution? Draw straws and the two people who draw the shortest are forced to go.

Unfortunately for you, you were one of the two unfortunate souls that drew a short straw. At least the other person who drew the short straw was Dazai Osamu, your coworker but most importantly the first friend you made in this city, so maybe you would be able to get a kick out of the bad situation at hand.

But when the two of you emerged from an alley to meet the crime scene at hand, that would by no means be the case because by the sight of the horror that layed out infront of you two it was enough for the both of you want to hurl.

Crime scene would describe the atrocity in front of as much as the phrases bloodbath and massacre would. No wonder this was an emergency for the ADA there were probably more than 30 people dead killed in various atypical ways.

First walking into the warehouse the most out of the ordinary sight would be a round wooden table with a duffle bag on it, but once someone took a closer look the rest of the ware house was completely empty other than the congealing crimson liquid that was pooling everywhere.

The five chairs around rickety table were matched with four bodies of executives of some sort laid face down on the table or dangling of the chairs.

But the most appalling sight was what was inside the duffle-bag, you were wishing it would be something tame like left behind money, however, much to your displeasure, they where severed off human heads. That by the looks of it were cut off with some sort of serrated knife my the edge markings.

"What are you thinking (Y/N)?" Were the words that Dazai spoke to snap you out of your spiraling train of thought. "I sure as hell am thinking this isn't the way I would have wanted to go."

"I'll have to agree with you on that one, this shit is something right out of a cheesy crime or horror movie.The only thing I can think of is the heads were a message of some kind to the people who were sitting at the table, and either the person at the empty seat with accomplices who killed everyone or are the only survivor, but it could be either. Were you able to identify anyone bodies or do you recognize anyone?"

"I don't recognize anyone, and most of the bodies are too mangled to be identified, but everyone at the table is wearing a customized Rolex, so I suspect that they were all executives of a organization of some kind, probably an illegal on based on all the gun men that were probably guarding the meeting before they got taken out."

"The only lead we have is the Rolex I guess, so Daz, will you take one for reference, we can visit all of the watch makers in the city to try to find out who was the person who commissioned these watches to be made, and then maybe through that we kind find out who the soul survivor was."

"Agreed."

Honestly the two of you would have been a little more playful and chatty if the events that took place tonight weren't so gruesome. The two of you were used to having to see and do brutal things, but Dazai had this gut feeling that this wasn't the typical violent act, and things weren't as the seemed.

The brown eyed detective just wanted to go take a nap after this, which was something you also wanted to do after see all the blood. Deciding to leave the true start to your investigation for a decent time the two of you swiftly communicated with the responders about the potential situation at hand. Then left to go deal with is mess the next day.

Timeskip........

After a horrible night's sleep and about three cups of coffee you were finally able to be semi-functional, so then you decided to grab your partner Dazai after dressing to impress and make for the horrible mood you currently were in from multiple factors. Dazai was even in a worse state than you where, you found him at the trying to convince Kunikida to go on the investigation for him, which was ultimately denied by the blonde haired man. Also leaving you to drag the genius yet idiotic maniac out of the office.

Walking down the streets in-between visiting different watchmakers and jewelers, you noticed some was off each time your boots hit the ridged pavement. In particular something about Dazai, his face was contorted into a being in deep thought, not to be disturbed for any reason. It was so out of character you were going to ask what he was thinking about, but then opted out.

"I know you were going to ask what I was thinking, I am a detective you know." He said his face morphing into one not of deep thought but of cockiness with a smirk. Damn, sometimes you really loved and hated that smirk, but right now you didn't know what to think of it. "I was just thinking of how now I know exactly who made the watches, and where is is for your information."

"Really who would that be? For my information."

"His name is Opāru Shokunin, he's done a lot of custom jewelry for Elise-chan and the port mafia in the past, but recently he's been doing a lot of foreign commissions for gangs and syndicates outside of Japan my word of mouth. When I first saw the watches I was initially reminded of how it looked like his handy work, but since the first three places we've visited were a bust, i'm confident it's him."

"Alright Mr. Mic-cocky, lead the way by all means." You scoughed lightly.

Unfortunately for the two of you, your desired destination was all the way across yokohama, so you had to hail a taxi which you knew you were going to be the one paying or it. The icing on the shitty cake was that you got stuck in rush hour traffic, so, the total time until arrival was three time longer than it should have been. At least you got dibs on the radio choice.

When the two of you arrived at your desired destination you now witnessed a normal looking office building, unfortunately, there was no elevator so the two of you had to work your legs up three flights of stairs to make it to Opāru's workshop.

Before you went in however you whispered to Dazai "how do we know he's even gonna be willing to talk to us?"

"He's going to be willing...."

"Why?"

"Simple you're gonna pay him."

"Um no you're going to pay him because I payed for the cab!"

"Um no."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"You realize I can hear you two bickering right?" was the raspy voice of the man you were looking for that ended your whisper argument. He was actually younger than you expected, about 38, but he looked older than his body by his eyes, the eyes of someone very worn out. Which would explain the smoking. "He's right i'll talk if you pay me, just come in before ya give everyone else a headache."

The two of you swiftly made your way into the working man's shop room. The room was a lot nicer than you thought it would be, and a lot lighter too. The man possessed a very nice view from his wall because his wall was almost completely filled with by windows. Dazai did mention something about the craftsmen liking natural light in the cab on the way here, so it wasn't too surprising and really lightened the room up.

You followed Dazai to the two chairs across from the white tufted sofa that Opāru was already occupying. Then Dazai placed the watch and a thick wad of cash on the coffee table separating the two parties of people.

"Oh, so you're here to ask who paid me to customize this for them? No surprise there they were particularly nasty."

"How where they particularly nasty?"

"I'm pretty sure that they were doing things even nastier than the port mafia, like taking kids of the streets and shipping them off."

"So, supposedly by word of mouth were human traffickers."

" Yeah, supposedly, but I didn't ask when the guy approached me."

"The guy?" You reconfirmed.

"Yeah, the guy, he had this weird tattoo on his wrist. The guy's name was Zinnnnnng, THUMP.

The two of you didn't even have time to blink or create when the bullet zipped through the head of the craftsman from. The crimson liquid from his head pooling on the couch were he was just alive a few seconds ago. The blood seeping into the fabric like the disparity of situation into Dazai and yourself.

Glimpsing out middle window now tainted with a hole you see the silhouette of the person responsible for this.

Dashing up without a second thought you sprint to pursue the culprit of the murder that just took place infront of you. Eyeing your target through the broken window.

Ahhhhhhh! Okay I’m literally really proud of how this came out! I’m really hope people like it. I’m really new to writing full fanics so if any experienced writer is reading this will you please give some pointers, that would be very helpful!

-Ellie

#anime #weeb #x reader #manga #platonic #romantic #bsd fanfic #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd au #bungou stray dogs au #fanfic #fan fiction #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #oda sakunosuke #odasaku x dazai

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castielific · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story.

Summary:

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day.

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens.

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles.

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate.

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!"

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before.

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east.

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off.

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby.

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now.

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone.

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today.

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin.

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky.

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear.

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin.

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex?

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze.

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them.

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek.

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar.

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint.

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't.

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone.

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures.

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck.

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes.

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile.

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here.

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled.

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way,

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint.

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'.

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this.

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer.

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not.

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it.

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough.

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces.

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass.

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here.

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey.

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole.

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes.

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?"

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal.

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her.

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments.

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse.

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely.

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off.

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout.

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up.

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand?

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away.

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant.

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair.

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face.

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything.

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…".

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there.

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash.

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!"

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really.

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly.

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?"

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?"

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

"I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know.

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile.

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled.

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time.

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension.

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day...

You can read the rest on AO3

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #dean/castiel #dean/cas #spn fic #ao3 fic #destiel fanfiction #AU #pretend/fake relationship #homeless!dean #rich!cas #myfic #my fic #castielific #castielificfic

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