#its pretty much the same situation as when both my roommates got the plague and we're very happily just fucking about while i lay in bed

[jekyllnahyena]

ok. just

i'm on excursion with my fellow students of the year for a week and somehow, have managed to fall sick during most of it.

which fucking sucks, our program is interesting as fuck, but hey, the whole last week i haven't been feeling well, so not that suprising cause instead of being sensible, i thought i could power through it.

so i've been lying in bed or wandering about the apartment for most of it. normally i'm good with having nothing to do cause i just draw, except that i decided not to take my drawing stuff with me cause i thought i wouldn't have any time anyway. it's literally the first time i ever did that and i shall never do so again.

but!

at the same time the fucking plague has once more broken out with our group and all over the week we're losing one after another dude to stick them in the second flat so they can be vaguely quarantined.

only, that as the residential already sick person, they tend to stay with me before they turn out positive.

i've somehow managed to share a room with now two different rona people and spent over 2 hours sitting on the bed with another one, cause we watched the f1 quatar race together (which was insane and then a shitshow but whatever) and i'm still fucking negative.

i know i'll prob just turn out positive next week, which sucks cause that's the actual introduction week for our university, but occasionally i just look at the ceiling and believe myself to have the immunsystem of a fucking god cause this is ridiculous.

[brazil-also-loves-rwby]

Oscar & Ozpin - Soul Bind OneShot

This is an old work revised - Ozpin, how exactly are our souls going to 'combine'?

Oscar admired the view of Atlas, protected from the cold wind that roared outside through the window. It was late at night and everyone was asleep. Only he remained awake, his mind too filled with doubts and insecurities to be able to rest in peace. Being this way, he'd descended into the living room, where he would not disturb his roommates with their mental conversations.

In those moments Oscar could almost see Ospin in his reflection in the glass. His expressions, his moods and even his mental voice became more obvious, more different from his own.

"Like I said, it's a long, exhausting process.” Ozpin let out a resigned, sad sigh.

"But how exactly does it work?" Oscar pressed. Both remained tense for a long moment, while Ozpin chose the words he wanted to say.

"The process of integration starts the moment I reincarnate. The beginning is always the same: fear, doubts, constant concern for one's own sanity. Fortunately, we did not take long in this situation. There was a person once, centuries ago, that I could never convince that he was not crazy. Ozinburg was completely convinced that some grimm had possessed him.” Oscar trembled at the shadow of memories and feelings that Ozpin let slip along with those words. "It was dark times. People believed that discipline and self-flagellation could purge ones body of evil and prevent grimms from approaching. I tried to stop him several times from hurting us, but one day he went too far and I was reincarnated again.”

- I'm so sorry. - Oscar murmured.

"It was a long time ago, but thank you anyway.” Ozpin made the equivalent of a mental cough to compose himself and followed. "After that, we reached the 'recognition' phase, so to speak. That's where we are now. We learn about each other. Our desires, dreams and goals, as well as our likes, dislikes and mannerisms. At some point, we will have learned everything we could over each other and our conversations will become less and less frequent. It will not be necessary to ask, for we will already know exactly how the other feels.”

- That does not sound too bad. What next? - Ozpin sighed once more.

“It is at that moment that the assimilation begins. Because our minds are so similar, we end up deciding the same thing without thinking. Our tastes stop colliding: if you do not like coffee, but I absolutely love coffee, over time the stronger feeling will prevail and you would feel my satisfaction in drinking coffee instead of your own distaste. Barriers begin to become thinner and we’ll begin to find it difficult to define where one feelings begins and another ends.” Oscar swallowed, but Ozpin kept talking. "When someone calls your name, I answer the call. 'You' becomes 'us' and in time 'we' becomes 'I'. Who controls the body becomes irrelevant, since both would use it in the same way. We will never be one single person, ones voice will never go silent, but it becomes natural.”

- I understand it now. - Oscar leaned his head against the glass, letting it cool his skin. - I always imagined that I would just ... fade away. But now I see that when you reincarnate again, part of my personality will continue to stay with you.

"Yes." Ozpin agreed. “I have always reincarnated in similar minds, as the god of light has established, but this does not mean the are same. Like Ozma, I've been a lot more foolish. Like Oswald, I've been completely in love with Remnant's women's, as Osborne…”

- Wait. - Oscar interrupted, physically spreading his hands to hold the reins of the conversation. - What do you mean by that?

"Oswald was VERY attached not only to the pleasures of the flesh, but also to the adventure of conquering a lady and causing her to fall in love with him. I believe it was the only time I could describe one of my companions as a narcissist.” Ozpin sounded exasperated, and that made Oscar laugh. "I was no stranger to being described as 'gallant' or 'gentleman,' but that was too much. This trait of Oswald was so strong that I think it took me another two reincarnations to finally be able to look at a beautiful woman exposed skin without immediately being plagued by libidinous thoughts.”

Oscar even pulled the air to question more just to hear Ozpin's measured and indignant response and have fun with it. But Ozpin's annoyance was enough to make his memory raise the surface. Oscar remembered what it was like to be sitting next to a woman close enough to feel the heat of her skin. The euphoria of imagining what kind of expression that stern woman would look at him if he slid his hand under the table and squeezed the firm, soft flesh of her white thigh...

- Were you really THAT kind of guy?! - Oscar exclaimed, suddenly surprised and shamefully excited by the feelings and sensations that the memory passed to him. Adolescents, after all, are easily 'impressed’.  -Thank the gods that you could hold back that kind of thinking.

"I could hold back that kind of thinking in my next incarnations.” Ozpin corrected and Oscar could feel that he was as uncomfortable as himself. “Ozwald, o the other hand, was not a man of just thinking.”

- Please do not tell me he really did it ...

This time Ozpin purposely pushed the memory back to Oscar. The red and astonished face of a beautiful blonde woman, twisted in fury and outrage. The memory had a sense of satisfaction and victory from taking such expression from a cold and composed woman.

- I hope you guys got a pretty slap for it. - Oscar shook his head.

"A punch, actually, that was followed by several others, I must add. This little event gave me control over our body for several weeks, since I refused to talk to Oswald for a few days because of it.”

Oscar laughed quietly and they remained in a comfortable silence for a few moments. Oscar felt calmer now, having talked so openly with Ozpin for the first time. Both of them had a hard time learning how to trust, but now that all the secrets were gone, the future did not seem so dark. As Ruby always said, they would find a way. In this line of thought Oscar felt that Ozpin was restless in his corner of their head. He waited, knowing that soon the former director would say what he had in mind.

"I was analyzing our situation.” He finally said carefully. "assimilation should have already begun, at least in its early stages, but it is not our case. We understand each other, but our thoughts and feelings remain apart most of the time. Personal.”

- And you think you know why. - Oscar guessed.

“Yes. You see, never before have so many people at the same time learned of my reincarnation, and few of those who knew have done so before the integration took place. Miss Rose ..." Oscar was startled by the mention of Ruby in the matter. “...Became careful to refer to both of us and this habit spread to all others.”

- You're right. Everyone says 'Good morning Oscar, Ozpin' to us. I remember one morning when she was responsible for making breakfast and she handed us a cup of coffee with milk. She said 'I know you dont like coffee Oscar, so I prepared it with milk ...'

“So you and Ozpin can reach a middle ground.” Ozpin completed. "That's exactly the point of my theory. We are constantly being treated as different people, so it is more difficult for our emotions to blend. For example, strong emotions such as admiration and affection would be the first to 'leak' and begin to affect me, but you are managing to keep them almost completely away from me.

- What do you mean by that? Oscar asked, feeling his own face warm and Ozpin's low-pitched laughter echoed in his head.

"I meant that, by my calculations, we do not have to worry about it in the near future.”

[vividlywriting]

Dbh and DND you say....( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Alright, let's try this on for size: the main cast of Detroit: Become Human plays DND? Who plays what class? I imagine Millenial on a Mission Hank DMs but I'd be open to any of them writing a campaign and forcing the others to play

So my partner and I are pretty into DnD, and as he partook in my play through of DBH and listens to all my fanning out I asked his opinion on this prompt.  So I will put his additions or contradictions in here as well.  This is gonna be a bit long

Let’s start this off right!

DnDBH

Hank Anderson, millennial.

Has played DnD at least once in his life.  

It probably wasn’t his forte at the time, likely something his roommate pulled him into, and the campaign was probably a bust as it was.  

Has most likely played video games like Divinity Original Sin 2 and Baldur’s Gate and liked them.  

He’s also played WoW and Guild Wars 2 at different times and for different reasons in his life

neither of which lasted super long, but he did enjoy them at the time

He honest to god hasn’t thought about DnD or anything even similar to it for a couple of decades until Connor found an old set of dice in the spare room (now Connor’s room) at Hank’s place

Now Hank is running a campaign and he has no gods damned idea how he got roped into this

He thinks it’s hilarious when he throws moral quandaries at his players, which all happen to be androids

He once had his players break into a government building to locate a prisoner for information, they were forced to choose between freeing the prisoner and escaping or leaving them behind.  

All of their information on the prisoner was shaky at best and they had no way of knowing if the character would turn on them later because they all failed their sense motive checks

He was dumbfounded when they managed to befriend the character, completely ruining the arc that had the character as the big bad

Hank is well over the “I roll to seduce” aspect of the game, and is thankful none of his players tried to do that more than once

The only time an NPC flirts with a player character is when Hank is trying to throw a player off/fuck with them and derives a lot of pleasure from seeing his players stumble and try to get out of it

Except for the time when it backfired on him

He finished two glasses of whiskey after that

Hank will not admit that he enjoys DMing, he often complains it’s a pain in his ass and he can’t wait until the whole thing is over

Hank agreed to test Markus’s homebrew oneshot…once

Hank Anderson, millennial, by Zeke

No bad guy at first but increasingly intricate moral quandaries

Before moral quandaries he forgets he can’t just throw puzzles at the players cause fuckin androids

General DMing

Almost everyone has DMed at one time or another based on their interest

Connor as a DM

Connor’s DMing style is very straight forward

He usually goes with premade campaigns, luckily there are a lot out there

He’s not the best at improv when his players go off the beaten path

But he’s very good at playing NPCs

Probably thanks to his programming as a detective, because he can play the NPCs’ emotions to a T

As a DM he is a little bit of a hardass though

Connor as a Player

Connor style of character play is much different than how he is in real life

He seems to enjoy the fact that he doesn’t have to “complete his mission” 

In fact he seems to enjoy causing as much chaos as he can, while still somehow doing what he needs to, and often by accident (or design, no one really knows)

He started with a classic rogue character build

Now he takes characters not often in the rogue class and building them in ways that end to his chaotic play style

Connor is the main reason Hank has had to set off random events or traps, e.g. rocks fall sort of situation, just for annoying him

Connor takes incredible care to keep his characters alive, somehow in spite of the trouble they get into

His character’s tend to have a much higher charisma stat that Connor portrays in real life, he takes it as a challenge for himself more so than his characters

Connor as a Player by Zeke

Likes to play Dex based characters

Likes the concept of spells and often leans towards characters that can do both sneaky stuff and magic

Tried playing evil alignment character once, went balls to the walls and then got banned from playing characters like that because even North was like “wtf”

Markus as a DM

Markus usually starts with a premade campaign

By the time the party gets through the first “dungeon” he’s tossed the script out off the window and is rolling dice and making it up as he goes along

His NPCs often sound a little the same

And when he digs into the homebrew style of DMing he likes to bring in scenarios that either play for or against his players personally

Markus as a Player

Markus avoids leadership character roles like the fucking plague

He actually leans towards the utility characters, buffing and healing the rest of the party

That does not stop the other players from looking to him to be the deciding factor in major decisions of the game

Sometimes he literally just rolls a dice to determine his character’s answer out of frustration

When anyone but Hank DMs he enjoys flirting with most NPCs to try and mess with the DM

He has flirted with enemies before

He has bedded enemies before

It is ridiculous how his lowkey background character playstyle manages to have that much charisma

He is usually the reason Connor doesn’t die in game, and he never lets him live it down

Markus as a Player by Zeke

Every once in a while Markus likes just playing a barbarian and raging

After the first campaign of him ending up as a leader character he just wants to play something simpler

Simon as a DM

Simon is a very thorough DM

He’s very keen on everyone enjoying themselves

But he’s also a very fair DM and if you roll a Nat 1 you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences

He actually really enjoys building homebrews, but he also has a handful of backup plans depending how the players move forward and how much time they have to play

His NPCs have a decent amount of variety, and they often come back into play later whether or not the players realize it at the time

Simon as a Player

Simon is probably the most diplomatic character player you’ve ever seen

His characters are usually quiet, and startlingly efficient

He plays arcane casters usually, and uses it about as equally against enemies as he does against the party to quell the in party bickering that tends to happen

He likes being useful, but more importantly he enjoys the fact that there are many times the party would have been screwed over if he hadn’t stepped up

It took about three sessions before the other players stopped underestimating him and his characters, they tend to be quite lethal 

Simon’s characters usually try to solve things without violence, or without deaths

Someone, either player or DM usually makes that impossible 

While Simon usually just sighs and says “ok then”, he often laughs at the resulting destruction

He has incredible luck with his dice rolls

Simon as a Player by Zeke

Tries making things with high charisma scores but usually ends up defaulting to Markus’s leadership who just tries to put back to simon

Really good in the cleric/healing character classes

North as a Player

Prefers playing, not DMing, the one time she tried to take over for someone to run a oneshot everyone died. 

It did not go well

Most of North’s characters fall somewhere between chaotic neutral to chaotic evil

The others have fallen in the Lawful side of the chart, lawful evil to be exact, and it is terrifying

Her characters change alignment the most as she plays based on how she feels towards other characters and NPCs

Despite that she has yet to fall into the Good column of the chart

Her characters are also either highly destructive or just plain really good at violence/fighting

She doesn’t have a preferred class type, she just likes doing as much damage as possible

North does like playing races that are often less liked in the campaign world

She also likes to retaliate to in game racism and has before collected a small gathering of NPCs she’s helped in someway because of this

As a character player she can be quite cold

She has yet to play a game where the DM included any sort of brothel, unless it is there for the sole purpose of being infiltrated and the workers being saved

Yes that was a game Markus ran

North as a Player by Zeke

Fighter, Ranger, Swashbuckler/Pirate Characters

Josh as a Player

He is just happy being a player

LOOT

This boy will find the loot and you may or may not know about it

He has killed the least number of people than anyone in his party

He prefers to not kill anyone if he can

Leave them out cold, or tied up, he’s even fine with dismemberment so long as they still have their life

When he does have to kill its in either one of two ways

Either he poisons them and they or most characters have no idea he did it

OR he makes it quick and clean

He plays the assassin class very very well, or he would if he actually did his job as an assassin

Josh as a Player by Zeke

Uses the loot for a good cause

Chaotic good or neutral good

Always good and opposite of north, by accident

Monk or brawler and always specifies he is doing non lethal damage

Stealthy monk - josh becomes one punch man

Kara as a Player

Kara is a healer

She’s learned the best builds to give you the best buffs all day long

Her characters are often pretty fragile though so the other players usually have to strategize around her to make sure she lives so she can make sure they deal the most and take the least damage

Her characters have all ended up rescuing someone or something at some point 

This has lead to her almost always having a companion animal or favors she can call in from NPCs later in the game 

It’s been pretty handy

Kara Player by Zeke

Witch, Druid, Shaman classes

Alice as a player NPC by Both of Us

Was allowed to join to play as an NPC, reprising similar roles, because the first one went over so well

She learned to make stuffed animals just to slam them on the board

They are always too big

It was a dragon

It only happened because she found Hank’s old copy of The Hobbit

When she plays as her NPC she jumped up on her chair and holds up a stuffed animal of a dragon and screamed “I am fire! I am death!” slammed the toy onto the board and yelled “ROLL FOR INITIATIVE!”

Hank’s response was to look at his confused players and say “Well, go on, do it.” because they didn’t think it was serious

Almost no one has it in them to actually kill her characters, even tho they only exist to be fought

So Hank has to come up with “an out” for the NPC baddie to get away

Because of this Alice gets really into high fantasy books and movies

Hank doesn’t mind babysitting her as much now

Luther as a Player by Both of Us

He only plays occasionally

Mostly oneshots not full campaigns

Plays the smallest characters he can

He knows what it’s like to be big, he wants to be smol

He made one min/maxed orc that was too broken to be used more than the one time

He’s a really soft spoken player, he doesn’t say much but he enjoys playing

The Jerry Gaming Collective

Is a thing

Find them on twitch

[thewhiterabbit42]

Full Circle: Part 5

Full Circle Masterlist

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Winchester sister!reader, angst, sarcasm, and a whole lot of ways to call someone a dick (among other things), violence  

Word Count: 7,826

Summary:  Gabriel isn’t the only thing from the past being brought back to life, and, once again, you find yourself smack dab in the middle of everything.  

Author’s note: This chapter is tied with The Best Laid Plans as the favorite thing I’ve ever written.  I had so much fun when I originally wrote it and, at the time, really got into the mind set. I actually didn’t end up changing much except for adding more names for Gabe to call Raphael, the conversations around which have made this chapter that much more precious to me.  

All tags are at the end.  If you have a line through your name, the tumblr Gods won’t let me tag you.

Special thanks to @sumara62, my wonderful beta who made it through 15 pages of dick references before being like, “Really?” and @blondecoffeecake for helping add to my repertoire of dick.  You guys are the best.

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

<<Prev Chapter     Part 5     Next Chapter>>

If Gabriel’s life were an autobiography, it would be called The Reason We Can't Have Nice Things: A Study in Daddy Issues or Why I Hope I’m Adopted.  Because right now?  There wasn't a single one of his family members he wasn't considering shanking, his father most of all.  

Great.  Fine.  Wonderful.  The man had brought him back.  Gabriel would be sure to send Him an edible fruit arrangement the next time He was in town.  Laced with the plague and made entirely of zombie fruit aka durian (aka what had his father been smoking when he decided anything consumable should naturally smell like rotting flesh?).

Why was Gabriel displeased one might ask?

It might have had something to do with being turned into shish kebab so his brothers could compare dick sizes. (If anything he should be the winner in that department since he was the only one with the cojones to stand up to them).

It might have had something to do with his father being unable to do anything other than stand around, dick in hand, while shit went sideways because He was, in fact, just standing around, dick in hand.  

Maybe it was because the only being who gave a damn about Gabriel was a mother loving human who should hate his very existence after what he did to you and your brothers.  (The father loather in both of you, however, had created quite the bonding experience).  

Or maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t help but suspect there was some underlying motive to his sudden and fortuitous resurrection… like the fact that the heaven bus was on fire again and a fair number of his divine family was ready to drive it into the side of the earth.  

Because it had worked out so well for the God squad the first time around.  

When he found the earth was not, in fact, one giant smoking battlefield or a rage infested zombie land, he was impressed.  He assumed your family had managed to put Lucifer back in time out, though he never would have guessed the how.  

He also never would have guessed who Luce would end up with for roommates. He had been impressed with the creativity until he caught the look on your face.  Heaviness clung to the darks of your eyes making them seem endless.  He knew how cleverness could be a burden and it was like staring at his own reflection, enduring loneliness included.  

He had initially hoped one of you had gotten a few good sac taps in on his behalf, but now he simply hoped you had for your own closure.  Preferably before his brother was wearing yours, but it wasn’t like the sasquatch was going to feel much other than suffocating in his own body.  

Gabriel made a mental note to avoid ever explaining that perk of being a vessel to you.  

Fact check: being a vessel was terrible for the first thousand days or so.  After that it just tickled.  

However, he did have a lot to explain.   

He knew he would end up here sooner or later.  Well, not here here.  He kind of understood his father having a blast from the past, considering the easiest way to pull his vessel to the present was to find the last place it had existed.  Being cockblocked and dropped right where Lucifer iced him, however, was an extra special touch of douchiness, and there was only one being left with that much power (and that much douche).

What he didn’t know is that you would end up here with him and that was what had him close to popping a vessel (literally and figuratively speaking).  It hadn’t been his choice to be resurrected in the middle of a shitstorm, but he had been the one to drag you into it.  All because he had been impulsive, reckless, and unable to look past his own selfish desires.  

There went his argument for being adopted.  

He should have stayed away from you.  Then again, if it was a cosmic coincidence you both showed up at the same place at the same time, he’d put himself in the cage with Lucifer, Michael, and the youngest Winchester and dance the lambada with all them.  The only reason he’d come back to this funhouse of memories was to seal off the doors and windows just in case the rip in the time space continuum was a little more wormy and less like the snapshot he’d initially assessed.  

The moment he spotted you, he should have just walked away.  He could have.  It wasn’t your grief that undid him.

Fact check: seeing your world bend beneath that weight did, however, do things to him he’d rather not think about.

He had only seen you this distraught on one other occasion.  Famine had sunk its influence so deep inside you there was nothing other than a blinding need.  For what, Gabriel had never found out. The urgency in your prayer (along with the fact it was just his name over and over again) suggested he might want to get his winged ass down there pronto.  When he arrived, you’d been so consumed he’d had to put you to sleep before seeing your pain began to consume him.    

Pain, though, was a timeless constant he could rationalize.  So long as there was life, there would be suffering.  What chance did he stand, however, against your guilt?   It pushed against the indifference he had tried to maintain, unknowingly slipping within his walls undetected, until it touched against his own guarded feelings of responsibility.  

Even then, Gabriel could have patched you up (emotionally), saw you out to your car, and went on to enjoy his limited existence at his own personal, completely conjured bunny ranch equipped with endless supplies of chocolate, whip cream, and other sensual sweets… along with eight different versions of what he called not yous.  Those were women who had enough of your features for him to pretend, but not actual carbon copies.

Having no shame and being a super creep were definitely two different things.  

Not to mention how creepy they were when he couldn’t get the personality traits down enough to not make a copy seem straight out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers… not that he’d ever tried or anything.

Fact check: Gabriel had tried once.  For science.

However any illusion of leaving had been shattered in one simple statement.  

Have that drink with me, Sheriff, and I will be.

Green had inked in around his vision and he didn’t have to read your thoughts to know what your plans were.  The two of you were kindred spirits, your personalities sharing several different aspects. The main one was you liked pleasure in many forms and you weren’t ashamed to take it.  Whether it was ordering every pie in the diner when caught in the time loop (and then watching Dean’s stomach explode when you made a pie eating contest out of it) or distracting yourself by seducing the local sheriff, you used your senses to feel good in the moment.  

This moment, however, was wrong.  You sought distraction in his absence, only he was standing right there, so close he had accidentally touched you when you stumbled back a bit (though he was still trying to figure out how that fluke had occurred considering he was pretty sure the only thing close enough had been his wing).

Fact check: the left one did tend to get a little handsy.  

But that was besides the point.  You were looking to get lost in a man from a generation whose idea of a good time was a cup of tea, an episode of Matlock, and a nap.  

Despite the sheriff being apprehensive, Gabriel saw the flash of loneliness that pushed through the man’s gaze.  It wouldn’t take much to get him to cave.  Even if he put up a good fight, you were young, pretty, and way too smart for your own good.  He wouldn’t stand a chance.

Neither did Gabriel when he began to imagine all the things the man would do to you, all the things you would let the sheriff do, and it would all be on his conscience, because it was technically his fault you went on grieving.  

At least, that’s what he told himself.  Admitting the first thing on his mind since getting a reboot was to make you his in every way he’d failed to before was a tad more insightful than he cared to be.  The whole thing was enough to drive him to drink.

Fact check: while there was no driving, there was a whole lot of drink.  The part about making the sheriff run circles and question his own sanity was just an added bonus.  

He needed something to calm the clamor in his head, except it had just made him sloppy if he had missed his brother’s presence slipping into town.  Regret and guilt weighed heavy on gold as he took in the mounting dread on your features.  His weakness had brought you here, and it was up to him to see it did not take you down with him.  

He wanted to tell you as much, but whether it was his own streak of daddy issues or the fact that even the most meaningful relationship he’d managed had ended with a good old-fashioned stabbing (thanks, Kali, always knew you were kind of a bitch), his words fell short as they tended to in these situations.  

Touch, however, was something he managed to do well.  Tips up knuckles drank in the skin along the side of your face, savoring the feel one last time.  He channeled what reassurance he could into the gesture, hoping to calm the panic he felt buzzing through you so you would hear him when he told you to run.  The command, however, became lost as his brother made his grand entrance, confirming he did, in fact, have the worst timing in the universe.  

“Gabriel,” a deep voice boomed over the lingering echoes of thunder as the the silhouette of a man manifested in the center of fading light.  

“Raphael,” Gabriel drawled, looking up at his brother.  “This is an awkward surprise.”  

“Someone’s clearly never heard of knocking,” you muttered, and he felt your relief in a momentary release of tension before everything tightened again.  You slid off his lap, and the absence of your body rang cold as the sudden chill in the room rushed in to take the place of your warmth.  He could see the gears in your mind turning, gaze appraising as you took in his brother’s stoic features.  

Gabriel stepped forward, subtly placing himself between you and the entity who should henceforth be known as the giant dick for being the the biggest cockblock in creation.

“I am disappointed, brother,” The meter-long man-dong said, eyes flicking to Gabriel in obvious dismissal of your presence.   “You must have heard what is happening.”

Oh, Gabriel had heard all right.  Angel radio was a complete cluster these days.  The last time it had been this chaotic was when he’d tricked Michael and Biggus Dickus into believing there was a demon incursion about to launch on heaven led by rogue angels… because was inciting the Crusades as a test of faith (and act of boredom) really necessary?

“Let me guess.  Thing’s not going so well for you, bro?” A glimmer of a sardonic grin flashed across his casual mask, tone pushing the fringe of disdain as he arched a brow.  

“No.  But you already knew that, and yet your first inclination is to dally with this human.”  

Apparently Gabriel wasn't the only one unimpressed with the situation.

“I get we’re a little behind the times right now, but what year are you stuck in?  1905?” He taunted.  

“Watch your tone,” Cock McBlockins warned and Gabriel nearly rolled his eyes.  He wondered if his father had meant to make all three of his brothers into prideful pricks with their own mini god complexes or if they had just naturally become those without anyone to challenge their authority.      

“Or what, you’ll shiv me too?” He demanded.  It wasn’t like he was bitter or anything, being put in this position again.  

Fact check: he was plenty bitter and uber pissed.

If anyone asked, however, the official story was he just didn’t think Raphael had it in him to be such an ass about it.  

“The only reason she continues drawing breath is because I will it,” the monstrous manpole informed him.  The older archangel’s wings flared slightly in warning, his presence pushing against Gabriel’s as it wrestled for dominance within the room.  The youngest pushed back, his own pride unwilling to back down so easily.  To do so would be to show weakness, and his weakness had put you in enough danger already today.  

Tips of fingers touched against his lower back, acting as pinpoints of pressure and shifting his focus back to you.  If he had to guess, instinct spurred your touch, and perhaps the need for reassurance.  There’s no way you could have perceived the pissing contest currently happening, but enough of something skittered across your radar to tip you off to the danger.

Or perhaps you were telling him to quit dicking around already and figure out an escape plan.

“What do you want?” Gabriel asked, backing down.  The degenerate disco stick eyed him as if it were a trick a moment before that dark, baleful gaze slipped over his shoulder and landed on you.  

“What is she to you?” Dickus Maximus demanded.

“I mean I was trying to have a bit of fun but somebody crashed that party,” he gave a dramatic look skyward as if asking if even his father could believe the nerve.  “But really, what are any of them to us in the long run?”

“An incessant nuisance,” the dickasaurus rex said flatly.

“I was thinking more like a beautiful distraction,” Gabriel replied smoothly though it felt like he had a mouth full of sand. “But just a distraction, nonetheless… no offense sweetheart.”  He turned, giving you a flashy-and completely false- apologetic smile for good measure.  

He didn’t mean it.  He might not be ready to admit you were more than a passing obsession, but on a visceral level he was hooked, his stomach suddenly a gymnastics Olympian as it somersaulted its way through a sudden bout of ire-tipped nerves.  

If the USS Douche Canoe ruined this for him, everybody’s ship was going down, starting with the dickhead in front of him and heading straight to the top, where all the bullshit started.  

“No offense, sweetheart, but I’m not looking to date a giant dick anytime soon,” sarcasm painted your words, streaking across lips in a smile you flashed that was just as insincere.  

Gabriel took it as a good sign you hadn’t missed a beat with your response.  Mostly because that was one less thing to worry about while he figured out how to get you out of there.  There’d be plenty of time for doubt later if he survived.  In fact, it was one of his favorite pastimes.

Fact check: it was nobody’s favorite pastime.

“Well, aren’t we just two peas in a pod,” he drawled, brows raising as he dropped his hands to his hips.  “Humans, I tell you.  Just when you think you’re the one using them, they’re actually using you.”

“I’ve asked myself many times what would I do should you choose deceit over honest discourse,” The dick with a dictionary began, his gaze drifting back to Gabriel’s.  “I think I have my answer.”  

The look in his eyes remained neutral, pushing beyond the fringes of weary into outright exhaustion, but it was that telltale half lift of lips, smirking smugly, that gave away the game plan.  Unfortunately, that plan looked to be you.  

With a snap, you disappeared from out of the side of Gabriel’s vision only to reappear in front of the increasingly annoying third wheel to the party.  The contrast of the dark fingers wrapped around your pale throat was startling.  Or, it could just be the fact his brother was definitely gripping that part of you quite snugly in warning.

“What weaknesses lay beneath, I wonder…” the wondrous one-eyed yogurt slinger mused, thumb dragging slowly across the surface of your throat.  The movement was callous, insinuating no more than the danger you were in.  Defiance darkened your eyes, your lips pulling back in silent snarl as if he’d touched you in a far different manner and it caught Gabriel off guard.

He looked more closely, peeling back the layers of atoms and energy until gossamer strands of grace glistened ethereal in the dim lighting.  You were surrounded by it, wisps of it ghosting over your upper body as if seeking some sort of entrance.  Anger crackled hot beneath his skin, causing his energy to spark slightly between the tips of his fingers.  

How dare Raphael touch you that way.

He had no right to touch you with his grace.  He had no business inside your mind, though by how he was concentrating on the area between your shoulders and waist he was after something much more integral.  

Why he’d want a peek at your soul was beyond Gabriel, but it was a whole lot of nothing good for you.  

“Stop,” He warned, clenching down hard and doing his best to reign in his temper.  He was aware that this might not be anything other than a test (which he was clearly failing).  If his brother was prodding for sore spots, boy had he found one, especially when Gabriel watched as the older archangel pushed his energy beneath your skin in a wholly ungentle way.

There was no stopping his fury as your features grew taut with pain, your torment pushing out your throat in a sudden cry as light emanated out from where the grace had entered. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble, tables and chairs beginning to clatter as they bounced around, skittering slowly across the floor.  

“I said stop,” he repeated, the rumble growing louder as the entire building began to sway.  Windows shattered around the room and Raphael was lucky he didn’t find himself on the receiving end of an incredibly angry smite.  His brother exhaled a long, heavy sigh through his nose, withdrawing all his energy in a single instant and letting you drop to the floor.  

“Who is she to you?”  Disappointment wove through the gigantic pork sword’s words and Gabriel held back a snort.  Like the asshat had any right to ask anything about you anymore.  

“None of your business,” Gabriel hissed.

It was the wrong answer.  

Apparently a good old fashioned ass kicking was next on the list, your body catching some serious air before it came slamming down on the top of the tables.  Wood snapped beneath the force and you continued to roll across the floor a few feet from the impact.  

Gabriel reached out with his grace, searching for the familiar, chaotic buzz that was often your mind.  It was a much dimmer, snarling mass of tangled thoughts at the moment.  Stay down he told you, hoping you were conscious enough to hear him.  

You were and, as usual, you were intent on doing just the opposite of what you should be.  You pushed yourself up, eyes flashing with determination as you appraised the situation.  Keep him occupied you prayed, silently pulling yourself to your feet before slowly edging your way toward the back exit.  

Good.  Maybe you could sneak out while he and his brother got down to business.

“Would you like to gamble on what strike three means for her?”

“All right, all right,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender.  “No need to pull a Lucifer and break everyone else’s toys when you don’t get your way.  Besides, we all know what happens when you start throwing temper tantrums with the Winchesters around.  Well, Michael does, anyway.”

He smiled widely, enjoying the way his remarks were beginning to get under Coitis Interruptis’ skin.

“But if you simply must know… she was the only one that gave two shits about me when everyone was trying to make me choose sides.  It wasn’t about tradition or the greater good.  It was about me.  She believed in me to make the right decision because I was good enough,” he began, past pushing against present as a familiar slow burning anger flared back to life.  

“So no.  She’s not a distraction.  She’s a friend.  A good one, and she’s a good person who doesn’t deserve to be caught up in our bullshit again.  So I’m asking you, as your brother, to leave her out of this.”

Three things became apparent as Gabriel stopped his rambling.  

First, this was probably the most genuine interaction he’d had with cocksmiter number three since his father had left.

Second, because it was sincere, it didn’t even register on his brother’s bullshit detector which, in turn, sent it flying off the charts by the look he received.  

Third, and most important, you had stopped.  You were now just standing.  In the middle of the room.  Staring.  Mouth parted slightly when really you needed to be moving - why the hell weren’t you still moving?

Gold snapped up to your gaze, flicking toward the door insistently.  Keep going he urged when you simply looked conflicted.  You hesitated another moment before continuing on.

Humans.

“I mean I know it’s a novel idea, but why don’t we try keeping the crazefest in the family, just this once?”  He continued, aware of his brother’s unwavering stare.  He was also aware of how close you were to the back door.  Your hand reached for the handle, movements silent as you gave a push… only for nothing to happen.  

Someone clearly had some control issues to work on.  

“I will never understand your loyalty to these creatures,” the disdain dripping from the colossal cockmuffin’s words was palpable.  “They are weak and flawed.”

“What did you say?” Gabriel demanded, eyes narrowing.  Lucifer had said those very words… how had his brother known?

“Despite our differences, Gabriel, I came here to talk,” the humongous spawn hammer implored.  “The rebel has gathered a surprising amount of support, though it is only a matter of time before he is defeated.”

“Well, sounds like you have it all figured out.  Best of luck to you,” he said, taking a few steps back toward the front entrance.  If he wasn't going to let you go, Gabriel could at least try and move the party.  Thunder echoed overhead and the room suddenly leapt to life with a gathering energy just before a bolt of lightning pierced the ceiling.  It struck right behind Gabriel’s back, stopping him in his tracks and scorching the floor.  

Apparently he wasn't the only one with a penchant for theatrics.  

“You’re either with me or against me.”  

Gabriel had been wrong.  His brother wasn't a giant dick.  He was a whole bag of them.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Gabriel jeered, taking a step forward.  “So, how do you want to do this?  Should I just whip mine out?  Do we compare sizes first?”  

A familiar smell drifted under his nose, carrying hints of metal and life in its purest form.  He glanced up to find you with your back against the door, hand obscured behind you and he had a fairly good idea what you were doing.  The problem was if he did, then so did the massive heat-seeking moisture missile.

If you both lived through this, he and you were going to have a long, snarky chat about the limitations of humans, and the nearly limitless power of archangels and why the former didn't need to worry about saving the latter.  

“Blood carries a very distinct smell,” Skippy McSexkiller announced, turning your way, dark eyes blazing bright against the insolence you were hastily painting across the door.  “Yours especially.”  

“It’s a wonder you’re not a hit with the ladies,” Gabriel taunted, trying to draw his attention.  It didn’t work.  “Hey, Raphie, can I call you Raphie?” That did the trick; the archangel paused momentarily, giving him a baleful look.  

“I tire of your games, brother, and theirs.”  Boy, did his brother look tired.  Not just the soul weary I’ve-been-alive-since-the-dawn-of-time exhaustion that timeless beings tended to get from time to time.  This was a whole other ballgame.  

Gabriel, tell me how to do this without hurting you.  

Apprehension filled your prayer as it floated to the forefront of his consciousness, and from the corner of his eyes he could see you were almost done.  He found it awfully touching you didn’t want to blast his hide when he knew that if your brothers were there, he’d have been rocketed halfway to Texas by now.  

Unfortunately, Scrote-totes MaGoo continued to designate the hotel as a no fly zone, leaving you both without a lot of options.

At least it would only hurt for a moment.  

Fact check: it was only for a moment, but it also was a whole lot of hurt.

Catch you on the flip side, sweetheart.

“Human idioms,” the gigantic tube steak sighed and the easygoing mask Gabriel kept in place began to slip.  “I’ll never understand your preference for them.  Or why you’d think me fool enough to fall for your little trap.”

Panic sparked in Gabriel’s chest, skating across the thickening tension in the air before slamming into your system.  You frantically finished the last symbol on the ward before bringing your hand down in the center.  He braced himself, only the blast never came.  He looked over to see the sigil had vanished.  

Oh sweet bearded man with bad teeth but good religious messages.  This was happening.  His brother was looking at you like he was going to split every atom in your body no matter what his younger brother wanted and last Gabriel checked, that was not on his agenda.  

“Hey douchebag,” he called out, pulling his blade from out of his jacket.  “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The other archangel didn’t even bat an eye.  He didn’t even give his younger sibling a courtesy snap.  The only reason Gabriel felt the smite coming was because the air always tasted like it was burning the moment before it hit.  

A bright, blinding light poured down through the ceiling.  Every hair stood on edge, stretching upward toward the concentration of energy before everything suddenly released and the blast had his brains pushing down through his nostrils.  

Fact check: Gabriel’s brain was not actually being forced out his nose, but it certainly felt like it.

The extreme downward pressure, however, was enough to immobilize his mind and force him down to his knees.

Apparently his brother was done dicking around.  

“Was the pain you suffered earlier not tangible enough?” Raphael’s voice managed to push through the mental haze.  “Perhaps you need a reminder of your own past.”  

Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open, details around him fuzzy as he struggled to bring the world back into focus.  

Your pain made for a great motivator.  

He heard your cry go up and the visceral response that tore through him was enough to help him gather his wits.  Your anguish was tangible even from across the room, tiny cuts and enlarged gashes singing in a discord of physical suffering that clashed with the previous chorus that rang from the very essence in your soul crying out.

He looked over to see you on your knees, red painting your torment in grisly splashes through your clothing.  There were streaks across your legs, your right thigh practically saturated.  It was harder to tell what was behind your sweater, but by the sheer smell of iron drifting across the room, there was a fair amount that had yet to show through.  You cradled your left arm closer to your body, droplets trickling out from beneath the cuff of your coat, sliding steadily off tips of fingers with a steady pat, pat, pat.   

“Is that why you brought me here?” Gabriel demanded, trying get the giant phallus turned back in his direction.  “Because you want to remind me what happens if I choose the right side?”

Pat, pat, pat.  

“There’s a certain symmetry.  Beginning where you ended.  Ending where you began,  should it come to that.”

Pat, pat, pat.

He should have seen it sooner.  After helping lock Auntie Amara away, the mammoth meat constrictor had been all about balance, about the universe having some sort of grand plan and synergy to it.  After their father left, however, things began to become a little less about cosmic harmony and a little more obsessive-compulsive.  

Pat, pat, pat.

“From where I’m standing?  More like a certain douchiness,” he turned, spitting out a mouthful of red from the blood that trickled down the back of his throat.  

“Enough!”  Raphael roared.  “I will not stand here and listen to your drivel while our home is under attack.”

Pat, pat, pat.  

Your heart began to slow, the change in pace nearly imperceptible at first.  For every beat you lost, his seemed to pick it up.  You were bleeding out and while you had a little time, you were going to be drier than a fruitcake in February if he couldn’t get to you soon.  

Good thing he had a trick or two up his sleeve.  

“Heaven is burning, brother.  Michael is locked away no different than Lucifer.  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It might if that was what this was really about, but we both know that’s not the case,” Gabriel said, slowly pulling himself to his feet.  

“Paradise was within our grasp... until you betrayed us to the Winchesters and told them how to put Lucifer back.”  

Fact check: the only betrayal being served was by Lucifer, who couldn’t help but turn everything into an ice cold fuckery of a dish.  

“Then kill me,” he said, tossing his blade aside.  Rather, his shadow twin did.  He wasn’t that stupid… and you were beginning to look awfully pale.  He appeared in front of you, crouching down until he was eye level with you.  You hadn’t moved.  He wasn’t sure you were able to by the number of wounds you had.  

“I’d rather have you by my side,” his brother continued from across the room.  He was vaguely aware his double had given one of the many pre-selected responses from his repertoire.  Besides the fact it made things easier, he’d rather be focusing on you anyway.  His hands tended to get a little less smitey when he did.    

He had to be careful, though.  If he released too much energy, Frodo Douchbaggins would be on him like nazgul on the one ring.  He idly wondered if that made him Aragorn in this situation.  Probably Eowyn.  She did have the most fabulous hair out of all of them.  

Fact check: Gabriel did have pretty fabulous hair.  

Your eyes met his with something too shrouded for him to read.  The pain was too prevalent and he wondered how much you were even able to think beyond it.  Your lips parted as if to speak, and he held a finger up for you to be quiet before his gaze dropped down to the pool of blood on the floor.  

This mess was as much his fault as the titanic flesh rod’s, and when this was all said and done,

Gabriel was going to go full Lorena Bobbitt and remove him from existence.

“This is your chance, Gabriel, to make up for your past indiscretions…”

The only thing he needed to make amends for was sitting right in front of him.  The longer things dragged out, however, the less likely he’d get the chance.  

Fact check:  the chances one of you were getting fucked tonight were looking pretty good.  

Bonus fact check: it wouldn’t nearly be as fun as either of you had planned.

Fingers drifted along the swollen contour of your cheek, tenderly stroking away the puffiness as he released his energy. He didn’t need to physically touch you in order to heal, but what did he have to lose anymore?  

Your gaze drifted sideways, widening slightly in surprise and doubt slipped in through the cracks in his armor.  Perhaps he’d been mistaken.  Perhaps things were more one sided than he realized.  Perhaps you had been the one with too much drink tonight.  

He tried to focus on his brother droning on in the background, clamping down on his rising disappointment.  Wank, wank, atonement.  Wank, wank, duty.  It was the same hackneyed setup where humanity became the punchline.  

His family really needed to add some new jokes to their lineup.

You released a slow breath and his attention shifted back to you as you tried to move.  The hand you raised was shaky, slowed by the damage he was still trying to undo.  It was obvious you were struggling to even raise it this far, but it was far enough.  Tips of fingers slipped beneath his coat, tentatively tracing along the partially undone line of buttons at the top of his shirt before settling your palm against his chest.  

Your eyes settled in the same spot, narrowing intently.  He’d seen you enough times to know it was the look you wore when ferreting out an answer in the middle of a clusterfuck of information.  What you were seeking and what you found, were simply beyond him in that moment.  You did find something, however, and it wasn’t the slow growing heaviness of finality Gabriel overtaking over him.  

Despite the snarling mass of emotions he felt within you, your eyes began to brighten, shaking off some of their former weight.  The intensity made him take a closer look.  A slow burning ire had sparked somewhere along the way, determination causing the edges of your gaze to grow hard, keeping the flames contained.  Your anger wasn’t surprising, but the fear that seemed to be fueling it was.  

He wanted to reassure you that things would be fine, but what would be the point of lying?  Besides, you’d just find something to break on him if he did.  Though he imagined with the way things were going there might not be anything left to break by the end of the night.

Your brows drew together suddenly, a frown tugging at your lips.  For a moment he thought Raphael might have caught on, but he could hear the prick yammering on while his shadow tossed well placed barbs and used misdirection to keep the conversation going.

Your eyes also never left Gabe’s, making the source of your displeasure rather clear.  Or rather unclear, considering he hadn’t a clue what he could have done considering he hadn’t had the chance to open his mouth yet.  

Then again, he had dragged you into this mess.  Perhaps you were finally getting on the same page as the rest of the world in realizing what a giant fuck up he was.

Your hand clenched around his shirt and while he was surprised at how quickly your strength had returned, he was completely thrown for a loop when you yanked him forward, lips demanding as they moved over his.  Passion won out over resignation as energy spiked down from your mouth straight into his chest, sparking outward back into your hand and continuing the loop.  

Apparently, you were of the mind set that neither one of you had died yet.  

You kept things brief because, unlike previous assumptions, you understood the importance of not dallying.  When he looked at you again, the fear had melted away to promise - so much promise for so many, many things burned wickedly in your gaze.  

If that wasn’t motivation to survive this disaster of a night, then he deserved to be put out of his misery.  

Fact check: he most certainly was not dead already from the waist down.

Show time he decided, giving you a reassuring smirk before taking the place of his double once again.  Not that he had a clue what to do still, but he did have a little hope, thanks to you.  

“Let’s stop beating around the bush, hmmm?” Gabriel suggested.  “I know what you’re really up to.  This isn’t about heaven.  This isn’t about family or atonement.  This is about you just wanting it to be done.  No matter the cost.”

“Yes,” his enormous deep-V-diver of a brother admitted.  “I am tired, brother.  So very tired and I know that you are, too.  This is our chance to go back to our real home.  If my cold heart still yearns for it, I know yours must as well.”

Ancient sentiments almost forgotten stirred deep beneath the surface and Gabriel’s confidence slipped.  If how he looked on the surface mirrored what was going on internally, he would have been running around the room, flailing wildly as he attempted to outrun an imaginary wildfire.  

These were not things he wanted to feel again.  Not tonight.  Not with Raphael.  Not ever.  

Fact check: he would rather douse himself with holy fire and do the hellfire rumba than go down that road again.

Keep him distracted.  

Your prayer rang out as a lifeline, drawing him back from uncertain waters before he became lost in the riptide.  He didn’t dare check to see what you were up to with how intently his brother’s stare was fixed upon him.

“Humans have a word for that you know,” he said, pity unknowingly softening his demeanor.  

The Herculean skin flute gave a heavy sigh, weariness returning and casting shadows on his face far darker than before.  “I am aware of it, and I suppose you’re right.  We cannot go back.  But we can still end this miserable existence for everyone.”  

Every time it seemed like they were about to have a moment, twizzletits had to go and open that big mouth of his.

Gabriel sincerely hoped this wasn’t how everyone felt about him.

Fact check: it kind of was.

I’m going to tell you the same thing I told that big bro of ours,” Gabriel announced.  “I love you, Raphael, you are my brother, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”  He gave a dramatic pause, watching as fury erupted from his brother’s gaze.  

“Actually, I lied.  You’re an even bigger one for trivializing all the sacrifices made to stop this madness, mine included, by starting it all over again.  What is it with all of you throwing a tantrum if you don’t get your way? For father’s sake, grow a pair! Sac up and move on! The world isn’t as terrible if you’d give it a chance to show you its beauty.”

“This world is no longer beautiful.  It is full of ugliness, disappointment, flawed intentions, but most of all, it is filled with suffering.  If you love them so much, would you not want their pain to end?”

Gabriel almost winced.  The more he listened, the less he was certain his brother was, in fact, a bag of dicks.  If anything, it sounded like the archangel needed to go out, drink a liquor store, get laid, then go on a world tour and take in the sights.  He knew serving under Michael was no picnic, but he never imagined it would actually suck the soul out of someone.    

“To live is to suffer,” Gabriel conceded, “But it’s also so much more than that.  Yes, they’re flawed.  They can be vicious and bloodthirsty, but how is that any different than us?  Why can’t any of you see how much good is also in them?  How much they try and more importantly forgive?”

Because forgiveness was not a staple at any of their Sunday dinners.

“I am tired of this life,” Raphael repeated, the lines suddenly evident across his vessel’s face.  “And so very tired of all these games.  I know where your heart truly lies.”

The part of Gabriel in question gave a stutter, past overlaying present in a terrifying way.  It wasn’t so much the echo of Lucifer’s words that disturbed him so much as the fact that you were there, right where he’d been, body crouched low as you slowly crept in for the kill.  

“I’m sorry.”  The older archangel meant it.  It didn’t make him any less of a fuck stick for what he was about to do.  

Fact check: Raphael was definitely a big ol’ bag of dicks.

Desperation forced Gabriel’s hand and he leapt forward.  Once again, his brother anticipated the move, deftly sidestepping the blade before grabbing him by the arm and throwing him into you.  You nearly filleted him by mistake, your weapon catching him across his shoulder as you scrambled to get it out of the way.  

So much for plan B.  

Gabriel felt the telltale gathering of energy over his head and he had just enough time to throw you back before heaven’s energy came barreling down upon him.  It didn't matter how old he got, he would never get used to the feeling of a smite.  Though that might have been his brother’s goal by how many were sent down upon him.  Wave after wave of energy crashed over him and he was certain this was it… until it suddenly wasn’t.    

By the time the world stopped spinning (and ringing… and twisting… and shouting…) Gabriel looked up to see his brother booting you across the floor like a soccer ball.  

“What will it take for you to realize how weak and unworthy they are?”  Raphael demanded, sending another burst down.  Something popped inside his skull, though it was likely just his brain falling in on itself.  There seemed to be enough of something leaking out his nose and down the back of his throat again.

There was another loud pop followed by more ringing in his ears, and for a minute he assumed he really had taken one too many smites to the head for his vessel to hold.  When the sound continued, he realized the noise wasn’t coming from inside him, but from across the room.  You had your gun drawn and trained on his brother as more shots peppered the silence, making the archangel’s vessel shake slightly with each bullet that pierced it.  

He’d said it before and he’d say it again: you had the most abysmal sense of self-preservation, even for a Winchester.  

Fact check: the above statement was completely true.  Though scrambled as Gabriel’s mind was, he had the wherewithal to realize what you were doing was solely to draw fire away from him.

He shook his head, pity pushing through the lingering pain.  How could his brother bear witness to this and still not be swayed?  

“From where I’m standing?  They’re more worthy than we are,” he said, smiling slightly as his eyes met yours. No one else was willing to step this far onto the wrong side of sane for him.  Not his family.  Not yours.  It only reaffirmed his stance that you all deserved better than what his father had originally planned.   

“She has ruined you,” Dickbag McFlaccidcock declared, tone insinuating if anyone were to be pitied, it should be Gabriel.  Unfortunately, there was a reason for that.  

Gabe watched as your hand began to shake, your eyes widening at the realization you were no longer in control of your weapon.  Slowly, you began to turn it on yourself, your other hand coming up to try and alter its course without much luck.  

He didn’t even get the chance to try and attack his brother before another blinding round of pain echoed through his skull.  

“You will watch this,” the patron saint of douchbaggery insisted.  “Because your foolishness is the reason she must die.”

A crushing weight bore down upon his shoulders, pinning him in place.  Desperation clawed viscerally through his stomach, his wings shooting out to full length as he tried to break free from his brother’s grasp.  The uber smiting he’d received, however, had stripped him of most of his strength.  He was essentially leashed and there was nothing worse than feeling caged and helpless.

Except maybe watching the one good thing in his life be destroyed because of him.  

“You want me to stand with you - fine.  I’ll be your right hand man.  The heavens will sing of our unstoppable duo - Gabriel and Raphael - or Raphael and Gabriel, whatever you prefer,” he begged, willing to say whatever his brother needed to hear if it meant buying you more time.  He could worry about the finer points of how to dig himself out later.    

“This is for your own good,” Raphael insisted.

It seemed his brother had half a brain after all, though his heart was clearly still AWOL.  

No no no no no.  Think, Gabriel, think, think, think...

Fuck, fuck, god damn, fucking fuck - think, y/n, think, think, think…

Your thoughts collided, bursting through the increasingly tense silence.  Your mounting panic pushed through his battered mind, allowing him to unintentionally pick up on what was flying through yours.  As usual, you were the only two in the room even remotely on the same page.

Fact check: that page was titled Now’s a Good Time to Panic.

The gun reached its destination against your temple, desperation hitting its peak as both your mantras came to a deafening halt.  

“It’s not your fault, Gabe,” you told him, doing your best to hide your fear and failing miserably at it.  

He nearly broke in that moment.  Here you were, about to die because of him, and your final thought was to pardon him.  It barely made a dent in his brother’s armor, and that’s when he realized just how lost the archangel had become.

Gabriel renewed his efforts, straining against his ethereal bonds.  He clenched down on his jaw, so hard he might have heard a few of his teeth crack.  It was the only way to keep his desperation from spilling out over his lips.  The last thing you needed to see was him reduced to a babbling mess.  

No, no, no, no, please, father, no…

“It’s ok,” you told him.

Fact check: things were so far from ok that Gabriel was certain no one would be leaving this room alive if you died.  

You closed your eyes, but he had no choice but to watch.  His heart hit a fever pitch, mirroring his own struggles to escape as it hammered away against his chest.  There was nothing he could do and he dropped to his knees, everything shattering as reality bore down upon him.  

He wasn’t strong enough.  He couldn’t save you.  You were going to die and it was all his fault.  

“I’m sorry,” his voice wavered, thick with emotion.  

Gabriel’s world came to a screeching halt as his brother forced you to pull the trigger.  

Next Chapter>>

ALL the tags:   @girl-next-door-writes  @sumara62 @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @jannalionheart @baritonechick, @deaths-maiden @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met   @the-moose-of-baskerville @summer-binging-spn  @blondecoffeecake  @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll @tistai @christinalibertymikaelson

Gabe Squad:  @theblackenedsky @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @pepperwoodatnight @lacqueluster @samikitten @ludwigs-a-monster @a-vast-african-plain @onlyanothersocialcasualty @kazosa @cobrakai--1972

Full Circle:   @melodyhiddleston @gabe-crowley-trash

[maskmakervega]

A bit of alcohol still left in me, went to plague and it was pretty empty so i just experimented with the bartender on a bunch of wierd shit.  There are a lot of things i’d like to discuss with X, or even just say, but she is so sensitive and unable to see straight, that any level of contact would make things worse... i think she will need to hate me to move on.  Here i am talking about her needing to move on, i do see the irony. The fact of the matter is that i am further along the “im over you” trail than she is, by far.  I have the advantage of initiating the breakup though, it was not mutual. I think i would first try to reclarify my points, about how I myself am fundementally broken and not suitable for a long term relationship (being demisexual, that means really any relationship).   1.) I am a being of chaos, which sounds more fun than it is. I wish I could describe what its like to feel that burning passion one day, and the next day get so irritated that i legitimately wish x would just break up with me. Other times i’d feel that passion so strongly that it would drive me higher, and then some bullshit drama would occur and i’d feel the pains and stresses so deeply that *poof*... i’d “blow a fuse” as i call it, and be emotionally dead for days, unable to show that im feeling anything, and not entirely sure what i actually feel. Spans of time where everything is great, then one bad day sets everything on fire and the walls come crashing down. That was our relationship in a nutshell, it was as chaotic as I was. You’re only as strong as your weakest link?  When we were good, we were great. When we were bad, we were terrible. There was no middle ground, it was all or nothing. 2.) X has no ability to see things from a “logical” perspective, when it comes to me. This has many layers, but i suppose we can break it out like this: 2A) X’s absolute best friend in the world, and roommate, is her X that she was with for 5 years. She said the breakup was mutual, but considering the fact he tried to hook up with her shortly after the breakup, and many times asked why she was with me and not with him, indicate he was still in love. The “if you’re not in a relationship with me, then you need to move out” ultimatum lends weight to that too. However, that isn’t all his fault, she doesn’t understand that you can’t be best friends with an X that you grew that close to, because its ridiculously unfair to them. She went on week long vacations with him, multiple day road trips, concerts, weekend trips (all while we were dating), and he’s not supposed to get mixed signals?   She never saw this though, she never understood.   It put a huge strain on the relationship because he didn’t want me over there, and if i was there, I couldn’t hug her or even cuddle up next to her. The whole thing is ludicrous, i don’t know how or why i put up with it. 2B) After all the breakups, and our friends/family seeing just how badly we affected each other, it is easy to see how our loved ones would begin to hate and distrust the person they perceive to be hurting us.  That part she gets. What she doesn’t get is that when EVERYONE, literally everyone, thinks its a terrible idea for you to be with someone, that you would be alienating yourself from them just to appease the other person. That is something i couldn’t get past. It would have been one thing if she put in any level of effort to get to know my family and prove she wasn’t a psycho bitch (met my parents twice, a 3rd time in passing, within a year and they live 10 mins away), but that effort was never made because of her fears. I would try to hang out with her friends and they would either cancel plans, or the other group of friends just hated me too much to even want to get to know me.  Did i mention that 4 of her 7 best friends, were in love with her and actively tried to sway her opinion of me? Now that 2 of those 4 have girlfriends they want nothing to do with her... odd. 2C) Hypocrisy. This was a steady thing, because she never got how hypocritical she was being.  With the roommate situation, i’d see his girlfriend maybe 2-4 days a month, for like 10 minutes each time. This is a person i knew for almost 15 years, and had sex with a handful of times when we were both depressed and trying to feel normal (no chemistry, no attraction to her).  X would get super bent out of shape any time this person was brought up, and always be the same arguments, yet it was absolutely fine for her to live with an ex of 5 years, go on vacations with him, be besties teeheeheeheehee... “it is so different” was the answer i’d get. I have another friend who i on and off talk to, for about 15 years, we sometimes go years without talking, but we can get in hours-long, really interesting conversations. I had romantic feelings for that person years ago, but it never went anywhere and we’ve never actually met. The same thing, because i had some kind of connection, i was supposed to stop associating with this person... she never got the hypocrisy (until it was too late). 3) Horror movies, some music, and food. That was the extent of what we had in common. I am very much into the paranormal, occult/other dimensions/existential theories, big topics that can go on for years with the right person, and she seemed to have no interest. Truth be told, she never really told me her passions and never wanted to get into it. Any time we were together it was just a cuddle party, and we’d sit around getting fat together, eating and watching movies.  That’s good once in a while or a few times a week, as long as you exercise, but i tried on several occasions to exercise and she’d usually find some way to snake out of it and then i wouldn’t bother.  We had very little to talk about, and when i instituted “talk for an hour” mondays, she seemed to be fighting just to get to the end of that hour, like super anxious to just start watching movies.  Was i that boring, was i that repellent? If so, wtf did she see in me? 4) dishonesty: after the breakup she stopped going to therapy, and refuses to go. she doesn’t want to talk to a stranger, but she also won’t tell her friends all the details because she was lying to them about us being together.  This really tore into the relationship that last month because she was spending more time with those friends and less time working on making sure we were doing ok, and saying she needs to focus on them (2 of those 4 or 5 people no longer hang out with her because they have girlfriends). She couldn’t try and get us to hang out, she didn’t want to be judged, so she lied. That puts me into the forced position of needing to lie as well, and i absolutely hate lying. We all get to a point where an unavoidable fight closes in, but we have a secret we need to time the release of information for, but not when you’re coworkers and not when its numerous people. Leading us to... 5) we work together, closely. This makes things really, really fucking uncomfortable because she is super emotional a nuclear warhead during an argument, which she has no qualms about having over the work chat. It makes it impossible to work effectively, makes chat messages that can’t be deleted, linger around as grim reminders, and then there is drama that other people pick up on.  It is a bonehead move to date someone you work closely with, and i should have known better.  She understands, or at least says she understands, that this is one of my non-negotiable points of why we could not get back together, but she seems to have forgotten that as of valentines day. 6) Explosive temper, says mean shit during it.  She has a lot of freudian slips, that and/or she says intentionally mean shit when she’s frustrated. After a breakup she would, at work, rattle off every insult to my character that she could think of.  Telling me i’ll never have a meaningful relationship, that i never loved her, that i’m a piece of shit, that her friends are right, that she made a huge mistake in dating me, etc etc. She’d then play it all off like it never happened, but a lot of what she says, she meant and either didn’t know it, or just tried sweeping it under the rug.  7) back to me, i am not positive of what i want. I’d think about moving out, and where i wanna go, and i want to try and buy a shitty but livable house and work on it for the next 10 years.  Entirely livable, just needs minor work that can be done over time.  She is the kind of person that could not deal with that, she is a “i need a $300k starter home” kind of person, has very expensive tastes. I was always torn and it would cause me problems, when i thought that far into the future because i wouldn’t want to commit to buying something with her and thinking the relationship might fail and problems arise... very logical given how many times we broke up.  on the other hand, i wanted to start off in an apartment together, but it would need to be one that one of us could afford on our own, should the worst happen.  That didn’t foster “confident” feeling about the relationship, always feeling a contingency plan was necessary. Yet... through it all, i still love her very deeply, and wish there was some way for us to be happy together.   It would require too much change to take place, we would have to be different people.

[euphxmia-pxtter-blog]

Changing (a Jily fanfic)

James heaved a sigh, reclining on his bed and covering his face with his hands. It was late in the evening, after a busy day of O.W.L. testing and outdoor conflict. Two of his roommates were still down at dinner, but he'd been tired and his third roommate wanted to study, for some bizarre reason. "You really shouldn't have jinxed him, James." The black-haired boy lowered his hands to look at the speaker. /'You really should have spoken up sooner, Remus,'/ he almost snarked, but he bit back the comment. It wasn't fair, he knew. It wasn't his friend's job to control him. Instead, the look he fixed his brunet roommate with was serious. "I know that, Moony, I always know." He sat up, leaning forward to emphasize his words. "Dark magic, Moons. That's what he's into. He always goes on about being best friends with Evans or whatever, but before today I'm pretty sure she was the only muggleborn in the school he hadn't called 'mudblood' at least once. All that blood purity bullshit, and and a ton of seriously evil magic! That guy is /swimming/ in the Dark Arts, and it just drives me up the damn wall." It was Remus's turn to sigh. "I know. Believe me, I've got no love for the little slimeball, but it's not worth the trouble. There are more like him, loads more, and hexing the shit out of one greasy punk won't stop them from going around talking about dirty blood- muggles, half-breeds...." James felt a strong twinge of guilt. "Ah, Moony, I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget how directly this stuff affects you, and I really shouldn't." Remus shook his head. "It's alright, I get it. They tend not to mention /my/ kind at all unless something actually happened, whereas they're always out jeering about 'mudbloods' and the plague of nonmagical blood running in wizard veins." James shrugged. "Still." "If the futility of your actions isn't a significant enough motivator, how about how your darling redhead obsession will never fancy you if you keep acting like an arrogant git your whole life." James raised his eyebrows, smirking now. "Now, that wasn't very nice." "I count it as constructive criticism," Remus informed him. "Calling me an arrogant git is constructive?" "If it helps convince you to be less of one, then I'd say yeah." They looked at each other for a moment. Then James let out another heavy breath and slumped back onto his pillows. "Maybe," was his only further comment. __________ Fifth year had been long. Long and hard and exhausting, for a myriad of reasons. The schoolwork, of course, was harder leading up to O.W.L.s. There was more homework, too. Plus there was that pesky minor incident of her best friend of over five years calling her a racial slur in front of a crowd of people. Oh, and the ongoing torture of sharing a House with James Potter. It was over now, though. It was the last night of the school year, and then she'd be boarding the train home, away from mountains of assignments and ex-best friends and messy-haired assholes. Just one more night. And like every last night of the year in Gryffindor, there was a party going on. It was loud- the room pulsed with music partially covered by the chattering of all Lily's Housemates. She herself had never much liked the chaos of these things, but she did like the songs and the food and dancing with her friends. She danced until her feet hurt too badly to continue and then pushed aside some legs to collapse onto a couch chair. Her eyes swept the room absently, passing over all the familiar faces. When they passed one face, though, they stopped. For a moment, Lily had no idea why. It was just Potter, sitting and talking to Black like always. Except it /wasn't/ like always, because despite the raging party around them, Potter's face was solemn, without humor. His hand was on Black's shoulder, and he was uttering something that looked like reassurances of some kind, only it was too loud to hear for sure. Still not really sure why she cared, Lily strained her ears and managed to pick up some of the words. "...if you keep your head down and avoid the both of them," he was saying. "I hate you going back there to those vile, evil monsters posing as parents, but I swear I'll get you out as soon as possible. You know our door's always open, and my mum has been waiting for an excuse to kick Walburga's ass." Black grinned, but only weakly. "I don't want to be a bother, with all my complaining and-" "Padfoot, not another word out of you. We've been over this. They're still scars if they're on the inside. You're valid, you're my brother, and you're coming to live with us as soon as possible. Understood?" "Yes, sir," Black said with a small chuckle. Lily leaned back in her chair, staring at her hands and trying to seem like she hadn't heard. The words looped in her mind. Clearly, Black had home issues- maybe severe ones. Naturally, Lily did care about this, but she was at the moment more intrigued by Potter's response. The boy hadn't attempted a single joke or made light of the situation. His speech was joyless, even passionate in its anger. When Lily had risked quickly looking at the pair of Marauders, she'd caught a glimpse of fire in the eyes behind the glasses. It was strangely familiar and took a second to place.... Ah, that was it. She'd seen him look at Severus like that before. Not when he had an audience, when he was mocking Severus at wandpoint, but other times, when probably he thought no one could see. It was an equal blend of hatred, disgust, and outrage. It was the kind of glare that, if ever turned on Lily, she felt would vaporize her. And she wondered about that look. The words, /It's more the fact that he exists,/ played in her mind, but for the first time, she considered they they might have been false. If Potter equated Severus with Black's apparently abusive parents, maybe that explained some of his behavior. /Not/ that she planned on forgiving him. __________ He had to be joking. He /had/ to be joking. What was Slughorn thinking, assigning her as Potter's tutor? This was all Lily had been able to think about all day, and it may even have led her to fail a Charms quiz. Damn Potter. At the time, she'd been too shocked to argue about her placement. She'd just nodded and, in a very dull voice, arranged to meet back in the Potions classroom after all the other classes let out for the day. But later the frustration kicked in. Why, oh why, did these things always happen to her? At the end of the day, after a brief trip to her dormitory to change out of her school robes, she headed toward the designated meeting area. She had a little while, she figured, because James Potter was always late. When she opened the door, however, he was already there. It seemed he'd had the same idea about changing, because he was in jeans, ripped at the knee, and a faded t-shirt for a wizarding band called Owl Chase. There was something else, too. She guessed he heard the door open, because he looked up immediately, but his expression was one she was not used to seeing on him. In fact, she may never have seen it at all. The great James Potter looked... nervous. He gave a sort of half-smile. "Fancy meeting you here, Evans." She glared. She didn't have time for his ridiculous sense of humor. To her surprise, he immediately stopped and looked away. Their eyes didn't meet again until she sat down beside him. "Alright, let's get this over with. We're working on the Draught of Plagued Dreams today, right? Page 362." She walked him through each step of the potion, stopping mistakes before they could happen. She avoided any idle conversation, avoided looking at him when she could help it. But whenever she did glance up, she couldn't help but notice things. In complete contrast to Potter's normal behavior, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and he tapped his foot anxiously on the floor. He made a lot of mistakes, or would have if she hadn't stopped him. It seemed, mostly, that his attention wavered whether he wanted it to or not. When she prevented him from over-stirring a third time, he muttered, "Not very good at this, am I?" Lily was taken aback. Hearing self-doubt from Potter was like hearing words of praise for muggleborns from Avery and Mulciber- she never thought she'd live to see the day. She was so surprised that she answered automatically: "No, you're not so bad." He immediately looked up from the cauldron, seeming shocked. After an awkward pause, he stuttered, "Th-thanks," and went back to work. What on earth was going on today? When, two hours later, they finished the potion successfully, Potter practically jumped to his feet. He put all the ingredients back in the cupboard faster than Lily thought possible. When he finished, he briefly met eyes with Lily and actually gave a small bow. Then, as if realizing what he'd just done, he bolted from the room. Lily was left, still sitting at the table, staring out the door after him and trying to process all that had happened. __________ James figured he must be getting old. That had to be it, the only explanation for his behavior. Why else would he choose /not/ to jinx Snape? Why else would he /help/ him?! It started when another boy- Ravenclaw, James thought- tripped Snape in the hallway. The greasy-haired boy lurched forward and crashed to the ground, dropping all of his books, quill, and the ink bottle he was carrying, which of course broke, soaking everything in dark violet ink. James winced. That was never what you wanted to happen to you on a Monday morning... or any other time, honestly. James glanced at Sirius, standing beside him. The long-haired boy was grinning, starting to step forward and reach into his pocket. James knew he was running through jinxes in his mind, deciding which one to use. He felt an unfamiliar squeeze in his stomach. He didn't understand the feeling at all, but it made him put up a hand to stop Sirius's advance. He reached instead for his own wand, and Snape's eyes widened in fear. /'I'm not going to hurt you, idiot,'/ James thought. Instead, he simply repaired the broken bottle and used a new spell he'd found recently to siphon all the ink off of the books and return it to its container. He crouched down to help gather up the books, but Snape, frozen in shock up to this point, suddenly came to his senses and jerked his belongings away, taking off back down the hallway with a furious glare over his shoulder. Apparently the shame of being aided by James Potter was worse than the shame of being tripped and soaked in ink. James glanced up when Snape's back was out of sight. Sirius was rolling his eyes. Remus, on his other side, eyed him questioningly. James shrugged in response. Peter, for his part, actually clapped. Trying to act normal, James responded by fixing his normal cocky grin on his face. "Been practicing that one for a while. Good, isn't it?" He caught the eye of one more person- Lily. James winked, and she- of course- rolled her eyes before walking away, but she was smiling slightly. James couldn't help but give a more genuine smile in return. __________ It was with a bit of a jolt that Lily realized, toward the end of 6th year, that she was friends with the Marauders. Well, no, she'd known they were /friends/- they sat together at lunch most days, and she hung out with them in the common room- but what shocked her was how significant it was. Every one of them had changed so much to bring them to this point, to make them close like this. Obviously, not everything changed; James, for one, was still arrogant and flirtatious a lot of the time, but he was also interesting and nice, and he never hexed people without provocation anymore, so Lily decided his mannerisms were now more endearing than obnoxious (usually). On the morning of this realization, they sat in the Great Hall eating breakfast. While the others chattered casually and somewhat sleepily still, James had his wand out, pointed at his empty water goblet. He muttered something under his breath and flicked his wand. The glass immediately started to warp and change, reshaping itself. A moment letter, it had become an intricate glass lily, which he handed to Lily with a silly smile on his face. Against her nature, she giggled- it /was/ quite impressive. James's smile widened to a beam. Lily got a weird feeling in her chest that she couldn't quite interpret. She didn't have time to figure it out, though, because at that moment owls began flying overhead. A moment later, a package landed on the table in front of James and a little poofball of an owl landed directly on his head. He laughed in delight. "Hey, Rom!" he greeted, reaching up to stroke his feathers. The owl, Romeo, hooted cheerfully. James fed him a piece of bacon off his plate before tearing open the package to reveal a book. "Yes!!" he exclaimed, examining the book cover and flipping briefly through it. "What's that?" Lily asked curiously. "Oh, it's 'Noah Masters and the Griffin Curse'- a wizarding graphic novel. See-" He opened the book to show her a page. "-the pictures move a little as you read. A family friend writes these. She always sends me a copy." Lily's eyes were bright with interest. "Cool!" James's eyes widened a tiny fraction. "D-do you want to read it? I can lend it to you when I finish," he said eagerly. Lily saw the other Marauders trade exasperated looks in her peripheral vision, but she didn't worry about it. "Yeah, that would be great!" she answered. She looked from him to the book in his hand and back, and her heart skip a beat. /'Dear god. I actually like this bloke, don't I?'/ __________ It was early in 7th year when James finally asked Lily out again, this time in a more serious manner. They were out in the courtyard, just a few yards from the other Marauders, and the sun shined down on them in a cheery way. Lily looked at the boy before her, with his messy hair and soft hazel eyes behind thin-framed glasses, and her heart did a little flip. "Yes," she replied immediately. He grinned, eyes sparkling. The amount of joy resulting from that single word surprised her, and she felt her cheeks flush. "I have to, um, to go to the library now," she said quickly. In reality, what she had to do was tell Marlene. She hurried off, but not before kissing him quickly on the cheek. James just stood there, shell-shocked, for several seconds. Finally, he moved toward his friends. "Guys, she said yes!" he exclaimed happily. Peter cheered and Remus gave a thumbs up. "I wonder why she changed her mind after all this time," Sirius said contemplatively. "Probably because I was a total dick," James deadpanned. Sirius cracked up. "Not a /total/ dick," Remus countered. "You've always had a decent heart. You were just full of yourself and, you know, a dick to Snape." James grinned. "Snivellus deserved it," Sirius said, but James shook his head. "I still hate the guy, don't get me wrong," he explained, "but hexing him every other day won't make him drop the Dark Arts, so what's the point?" Remus clapped him on the back at that. "Prongs, you really are growing up."

[anony-nobody]

1.04

Let’s fast forward to the first year of college where I met one of the coolest and down to earth people I have, to this day, ever had the privilege of knowing. My first hearing about her was rumors of her, sneaking into another freshman’s dorm room. At that moment I did not warrant the rumors or her, pushing it off as just another repressed teenager finally far enough away from her parents to express herself in the way she wanted. Almost wanted to congratulate her. Almost. She spent the majority of the first few weeks spending time with what I, and several others, believed was a rather unsavory guy. They’d talk for an hour or two nearly every night, usually right below my window. I’d hear their discussions if I opened my window, boring discussion by my reckoning. Each night it was mildly humorous to hear them, mostly him, lean into something slightly more than friendship. Slowly, the rest of our freshman dorm saw him for what he really was as he began to get more abusive and violent toward his roommate, a really kind guy, who honestly didn’t deserve it. Still, it wasn’t my problem, I didn’t feel any sort of connection to these people. The other girls made the occasional pass at me, but honestly I wasn’t interested in their game. Occasionally I’d talk to the girl I called GI Jane, which I nicknamed her after a hiking trip. Twice mr. unsavory questioned me as to my intentions with her. I supposed they had struck up a relationship far deeper than what I had seen, but again I didn’t care what they did. It was none of my business, much like what I did and thought as hardly any of his. Soon the regular school year started, and all of us in the dorm spent less time together and more time on our studies. I suppose the turning point with GI Jane and I came a week or two into the school year. My roommate and I sat in our room prepping for a Friday night or maybe we had just gotten back? I can’t quite recall. But my roommate and I both sat in our room, quietly chatting about some inane topic when down the hall we could hear multiple raised voices. We both fell silent, looked at each other, and listened. Not long we heard the voice of mr unsavory and GI Jane’s roommate in a heated argument. We quickly went for the door and upon stepping out into the hall we found Jane’s roommate nearly yelling back into the doorway and Unsavory seemingly yelling back. It was clear from his speech he had been drinking heavily. I knew from experience in high school, overly aggressive guy that also couldn’t seem to control their alcohol were always dangerously aggressive, and seemed to always want to fight despite the fact that they could hardly stand. We got the doorway and we could hear Unsavory yelling at GI Jane. She was curled against the wall on her bed while he continued berating her about something I wasn’t clued in on and still to this day not overtly sure as to the cause of the abuse. As we got a feel for the situation, I called sternly into the room, “unsavory, what are you doing? They told you to leave. It’s time to go” perhaps it was the more stern sound of my voice, or his voice slowly getting louder and louder but a small crowd found their way to the hallway to see what all the commotion was. After his addled and drunk brain processed that my roommate and I were telling him to leave he quickly turned on us with whatever anger he had. Just as well, it was clear from her tears and sobbing shoulders GI Jane was struggling to maintain what comprise she had left. I can’t remember his exact words at the point, so don’t quote me, but they went a little something along the lines of him accusing everyone present of making fun of him behind his back. Full disclosure, I don’t really understand what he meant by that. I had warned Jane before that he was clearly a little unstable based on how he treated his roommate and how he acted at parties. I suppose news of me saying this could have found its way to his ear, however, to say it was behind his back is mildly melodramatic. I would have said it directly to his face. At this point I repeated that he needed to walk away from the situation, and that he wasn’t wanted there anymore. My roommate also tried coaxing him out of the room. I’ve always had a knack that when I enter high stress situation a level my voice and tenor, making it seem like nothing is bothering me. It’s a strategy I had been honing for years, even before I stopped caring. Unsavory next move was as a cliché as they come, “what, are you going to remove me?” He said. It was really stupid and pretty childish. I barely stifled a chuckle, I told him that he didn’t want to fight me when he was sober, fighting me while he was drunk was probably the second bad idea he had that night. It hurt his pride and he stormed over to me like he was going to try and fight or something. You’ve all seen what I’m talking about. When the hormonal, wannabe alpha male puffs out his chest and gets way too close to the other individual. If he wasn’t so drunk I might have been a little on edge with him so close but, at least at this juncture, there was no way he could do much to me. I simply looked looked down my nose at him while I raised an eyebrow condescendingly. My roommate who was better friends with unsavory than I was, pulled him away by the shoulder, “come on, we’re all going to get in trouble.” With that the confrontation had pretty much come to an end with little more than an overzealous bluster. At that moment I very nearly walked away, my good deed for the day completed. In the room Jane still sat against the wall, her legs pulled up close to her chest, tears still on her cheeks. For nearly the last year sympathy and empathy were gone from me. Several times, while the people around me cried, I felt nothing but annoyance. At least twice the people had called me out on my stone attitude. I didn’t care, it was easier to feel nothing than get caught up in pointless emotion over an event that couldn’t very well be changed. Regardless, for the first time in a long time I was compelled to go check on her. I gently places my hand in her knee, and sat on her bed. I asked if she was alright. I remember how awkward it all felt. My internal monologue kept reminding me how little I cared about people and how little other people cared about each other. Something about her touch was really different somehow. Just placing my hand on her knee was both calming and electrifying at the same time. Certainly a feeling I had never experienced to that point. When she calmed down some I asked her if she’d be okay tonight. All three of us, Jane, her roommate, and I discussed that he could potentially come back at some point. The prospect was noticeably uncomfortable for her. I asked if it would make her feel better if I stayed the night with her. And that became the first time we slept together. Literally just slept. It’s not a euphemism. She slept the night through, cutting the circulation to my left arm. As for me, where sleep was usually plagued with visceral nightmares, that night was peaceful and restful. Soon we were spending more time together. I felt things around her I had hardly or never felt for anything.

[pack-efron]

fake it like you matter; that's a lie we can both keep

Listening to “Sending Postcards From A Plane Crash” got me to thinking. My old college roommate visited the Bay Area this week and I got to hang out with her and her med school buddies in the city on Monday. I hadn’t seen her in person in like, 8 years, which was when I visited her in Texas. I’m gonna preface the rest of this post by saying this:

I had a crush on this woman during our college days.

We hung out a lot; I cut many a lecture to sneak into her class just to kick it. We had lunch, dinner, we caught movies, played games, we were roommates yadda yadda. It’s kinda natural for one of the people involved in the equation to develop a slight crush on the other, yeah? Just a crush. Nothing serious or anything. In fact, if you asked me back in 2008 if I liked her like THAT, as in strongly considering a relationship, truth be told, I would’ve said no. I was 20 then and I was young and stupid and I didn’t know anything or any better. I certainly wasn’t as in tune with my emotions or as honest with how I feel as I am now.

Unfortunately, she found out that I had a crush on her. To this day I’m not exactly sure how; whether she added 2 and 2 together herself and deduced it or if somebody noticed it and got in her ear about if, regardless, she figured it out and just like that, it all stopped. The hanging out, the talking, the laughing, the lunches, the dinners, all that. We stopped interacting with each other for about a month and a half WHILE we were still roommates. Imagine how awkward that was!

Anyway, we eventually started talking again after she dropped the news on me, well it wasn’t really news, I mean, it was pretty much captain obvious at this point: she didn’t like me like that and that she never ever saw me as anything other than a friend. Overkill, sure I guess, but whatever, I was always a guy who understood that no meant no. I could take the hint here. I was just glad we were gonna be friends again. And even though we remain friends to this very day, I would be lying to you if I didn’t notice that our friendship slightly changed.

I’m entirely convinced that the only reason why we remained friends was because we were roommates. She has a habit of picking flight in fight or flight situations, and had she wanted to and had we not been roomies, I’m 100% certain she would’ve avoided me like the plague until out friendship evaporated. But that didn’t happen and we stayed friends but it definitely wasn’t the same as before. We’d still talk, laugh, eat together and do all the things we did before but now, there was like this subconscious elephant in the room. I always felt like she held back or refrained, as did I, out of fear that everything would boil back up to the surface.

She moved out of Cali and back to her home state shortly after graduating. And wouldn’t you know it, she mistook me feeling bummed out that my best friend during college was leaving for “oh no his feels for me are returning, gotta avoid him again”. And she did. We didn’t hang out or talk or anything, and just like that, she was gone.

I visited her the following year after I had graduated and I was genuinely excited to see her again, but I quickly realized the writing on the wall. This trip to Texas wasn’t really about the two of us hanging out again, although we did; it was more me getting her cat that she was forced to leave behind by her father and helping her sneak the cat in while her parents were on vacation. When I flew back home, that was the last time I saw her in person.

Now, we did keep in touch over the last 8 years. Initially, we were on the phone with each other constantly. Then that stopped. I hadn’t heard her voice in about 5 years. From that point forward, our only means of communication was Facebook. Either she or I would write a status update and maybe we would notice it and hit like or comment on it. Other than that, it was random Facebook messages sprinkled here and there few and far in between.

To be honest, over the years, she went from being a best friend of mine to a Facebook acquaintance, really. She went on and did her thing, and I went on and did my thing. This past Monday was the first time I’d seen her in person in 8 years and the first time I’d spoken to her in person in 5. Her, myself, and three of her med school colleagues hung out in SF for a solid 5 hours, just walking around town. You’d think that she and I had a lot of catching up to do. And we did.

But…

It didn’t feel right. A part of me was happy to see her again and get to talk to her again, but another part of me felt emotionally uninterested, mentally checked out, and uninvested. I couldn’t figure it out why and I was getting kinda upset at myself because it was fucking rude. I wasn’t sure if she could deduce it this time around like when she presumably came to learn that I had a crush on her before. At the end of the day, we parted ways; she and her buddies went back to their hotel, and I went to go work a closing shift at the gelato shop. We didn’t even like, hug hug as in a goodbye type embrace like when I flew back home after one week in Texas. It was more of a one arm bro-ish around the shoulder deal. All in all, the whole situation left a lot more to be desired to say the least.

And then it dawned on me. Is this what “moving on” feels like? Yeah we’re still friends, but have I moved on from her? Finally? I mean, after I got crucified for having something that every human being goes through at some point in life, a simple crush, I swore to myself that I would never ever find myself or put myself in that situation ever again. I wouldn’t allow myself to get entangled in feels of love and romance as a self-defense mechanism from getting hurt. Because in my head, if that’s what happens to you when you only have a crush, holy shit, I don’t even wanna begin to fathom the drama and shit that would have happened if I DID like her like THAT, if I did want to pursue a relationship with her. Fuck that noise. That shit isn’t worth the stress. And because of it, while I haven’t sworn off love entirely, I have effectively not participated in “the game” since that whole situation went down in 2008.

That is until I met a co-worker of mine at the ice cream store six months ago when I started working there. And overtime, slowly but surely, through working together every now and then, I’ve gotten to know more and more about her. And for the first time in almost ten years, I’m experiencing those feelings again. Those crush feelings. Except this time, I know better, and I stop myself because of what happened the last time. I know, it sucks, but to be perfectly honest with you, I feel like I would be a much better best friend than I would be a boyfriend. I don’t want to be her boyfriend. I just wanna be a friend. I see a lot of best friends dynamics change the second they start making out and transitioning to dating and making out and sex and shit. It becomes full of politics and power plays and quite frankly, it’s nauseating to see and be around. I just wanna be able to jab my friend in the shoulder and give her shit without there being any ulterior motives and “feelings” eww

So what if I’m not capable of love or if I won’t ever get to experience it. I’m perfectly okay with it. I don’t want to make the same mistake with her that I made years ago with my old roommate. When that whole situation happened, then, in the moment, it was the worst feeling in the world. But looking back at it, it was probably the best thing to ever happen to me. Not being consumed by trying to find a girlfriend and “get laid” lent its way to be being a far more mature person than I was at age 20. It’s helped me shape my feminist views.

I was happy to see my old roommate again. I was even more happy that I was finally able to truly move on from her. It didn’t necessarily consume my life the past 8 years but it was definitely a loose end that needed to be tied up. And it feels nice.

I’m not sure where we stand now. I’d like to think we will remain friends, but at the rate we’re going, I wouldn’t be surprised if we lost contact with each other completely over the next 3-5 years. 20 year old me would have dreaded that thought but 29 year old me is now not only fully prepared for such a possibility, but is sort of indifferent to it.

I’m far more excited about developing a potential blossoming friendship between myself and my co-worker. It’s a bit strange; she’s much younger than I am. In fact, she’s going to turn 20 this year. Humorously, she learned I was at the time 28, after she thought I was at most 25, and vice versa, she’s so mature and well spoken and wise beyond her years, I assumed she was at least 23. We both do not look and do not act our respective ages and so far, it’s made for a really fun and interesting friendship. And I do not want to ruin this by contracting feelings like I did eight years ago. I never ever want to go through that ever again.

All I know for sure is this: she’s really cool. She’s really smart. And she’s really funny. And I’m uncool. I’m a goof. And while I don’t see myself as a funny person, I lead a funny life where funny shit happens to me constantly. Y'know, hanging out with my old roommate, the only thing I could think of was regretting asking for that afternoon off to do so because it meant I wouldn’t be able to talk and laugh at little children customers with my co-worker (children of which we are both terrified of) for an overlapping shift. Which, again, was totally rude of me, I do admit. But if that right there isn’t a clear indication of “moving on”, then I don’t know what is.

I’m a much better best friend than I would be a boyfriend.

[brazil-also-loves-rwby]

To move on 5 - RWBY FANFIC

Hello everyone. This is my fanfic Para Seguir Em Frente. I translated it because I received many visits from countries with English language. MY ENGLISH IS BAD AND YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Please comment. Originaly posted here https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13256016/1/To-move-on

Late at night, Oscar finally came home, tired after a long day at work. His body and aura were spent after a whole day practicing and demonstrating different uses of magic. He crawled upstairs, noting that Aunt May was not in her room. Exhausted, he took a moment to remember that she would spend the night at her boyfriend's house, Beryl Willow. This meant there was no food waiting for him in the fridge and he would have to get his own dinner. Sighing, Oscar placed an order for a nearby restaurant through his scroll while the tub was filled. Soon he sank into the hot water of the bath and allowed himself to relax as his mind wandered.

Six months have passed since the end of the Great War. Autumn came and went, giving way to the cold of winter. Still, Remnant never stopped. Destroyed buildings were repaired and new buildings rose every day. The academys themselves and their huge campus were already more than halfway to their old glory. Houses that lost their former owners in the war now accommodated new families in the face of a strong migration from the outside into the realms.

Oscar himself settled into his position as an academic professor of Magic. His first students returned to their kingdoms, but were immediately replaced by others. Every day they wrote theses about their discoveries of magic. They wrote schoolbooks for future classes that would be compulsory in public education and preparing new teachers.

Even magic was beginning to settle in people's lives. Oscar saw few chimneys spewing smoke, for magical fire had become a common practice. Some workers, on the docks or buildings, carried large loads in the air with ease. Little by little the world adapted to the new way of life.

But accustomed did not mean comfortable. Oscar had imagined that his popularity and his friends would fall over time, but he could not be more wrong. He was often invited (almost pressed) to attend interviews and talk shows. Jaune was stamped on the packaging of a morning cereal and Yang in energy drink commercials. Weiss had become the propaganda girl of her county, being invited to be the face of informational commercials related to magic.

It was a normal life, with daily highs and lows, and yet Oscar felt himself living in a Utopia. For years he doubted that these days of peace would come. He was so sure that he would be one more of Ozma's souls, and to his surprise, he became the last. His sleepy mind wandered into those dark days, sinking into memories.

- Ozpin, how exactly our souls are going to 'combine'?

Oscar admired the view of Atlas, protected from the cold wind that roared outside through the window. It was late at night and everyone was asleep. Only he remained awake, his mind too filled with doubts and insecurities to be able to rest in peace. Then he'd descended into the living room, where he would not disturb his roommates with their mental conversations.

In those moments Oscar could almost see Ospin in his reflection in the glass. His expressions, his moods and even his mental voice became more obvious, more different from his own.

- Like I said, it's a long, exhausting process. - Ozpin said with a resigned, sad sigh.

- But how exactly does it work? - Oscar pressed. Both remained tense for a long moment, while Ozpin chose the words he wanted to say.

- The process of integration begins the moment I reincarnate. The beginning is always the same: fear, doubts, constant concern for one's own sanity. Fortunately, we did not take long in this situation. There was a person, centuries ago, that I could never convince him that he was not crazy. He was completely convinced that some grimm had possessed him. - Oscar trembled at the memories that Ozpin let slip along with those words. - It was dark times. It was believed that discipline and self-flagellation could purge the body of evil and prevent grimms from approaching. I tried to stop him several times from hurting us, but one day he went too far and I was reincarnated again.

- I'm so sorry. - Oscar murmured.

- It was a long time ago, but thank you anyway. - Ozpin made the equivalent of a mental cough to compose himself and continued. - After that, we've reached the 'recognition' phase, so to speak. That's where we are now. We learn about each other. Our desires, dreams and goals, as well as our likes, dislikes and mannerisms. At some point, we will have learned everything we could over each other and our conversations have become less and less frequent. It will not be necessary to ask, for we will already know exactly how the other feels.

- That does not sound too bad. What next? - Ozpin sighed.

- It is at that moment that the assimilation begins. Because our minds are so similar, we end up deciding the same thing without thinking. Our tastes stop colliding: if you do not like coffee, but I absolutely love coffee, over time the stronger feeling will prevail and you would feel my satisfaction in drinking coffee instead of your own distaste. Barriers begin to become thinner and we begin to find it difficult to define where one begins and another ends. - Oscar swallowed, but Ozpin kept talking. - When someone calls your name, I answer the call. The 'you' becomes 'us' in time and then 'we' becomes 'I'. Who controls the body becomes irrelevant, since both would use it in the same way.

- I understand. - Oscar leaned his head against the glass, letting the cold cool his skin. - I always imagined that I would just ... disappear. But now I understand that when you reincarnate again, part of my personality will continue to permeate you.

- Yes. - Ozpin agreed. - I have always reincarnated in similar minds, as the god of light has established, but this does not mean they are same. Like Ozma, I've been a lot more foolish. Like Oswald, I've been completely in love with Remnant's women's love, like Osborne ...

- Wait. - Oscar interrupted, physically spreading his hands so that Ozpin held the reins of the conversation. - You were a casanova?

- Oswald was VERY attached not only to the pleasures of the flesh, but to the adventure of conquering a lady and causing her to fall in love with him. I believe it was the only time I could describe one of my companions as a narcissist. - Ozpin sounded exasperated, and that made Oscar laugh. - I was no stranger to being described as 'gallant' or 'gentleman,' but that was too much. This trait of Oswald was so strong that I think it took another two reincarnations to finally be able to look at a huntress wearing a short skirt without immediately being plagued by libidinous thoughts.

Oscar even pulled the air to question what he meant, just to hear Ozpin's measured and indignant response and have fun with it. But Ozpin's indignation was enough to make his memory grow. Oscar remembered what it was like to be sitting next to a woman close enough to feel the heat of her skin. The euphoria of imagining what kind of expression that stern woman would look at him if he slid his hand under the table and squeezed the firm, soft flesh of her white thigh ...

- Were you THAT kind of guy?! - Oscar exclaimed, suddenly surprised and shamefully excited by the feelings and sensations that the memory passed to him. Adolescents, after all, are easily 'impressionable'. - Thank the gods that you could curb that kind of thinking.

- I could curb that kind of thinking in my next incarnations. Ozpin corrected. Oscar could feel that he was as uncomfortable as himself. - But Oswald was not a man that just think.

- Please do not tell me he really did it...

This time Ozpin purposely pushed the memory back to Oscar. The red and astonished face of a beautiful blonde woman, twisted in fury and outrage. The memory had a sense of satisfaction and victory to take such expression from such a cold woman.

- I hope you guys got a pretty slap for it. - Oscar shook his head.

- A punch, actually. Followed by several others, I must add. This little event gave me control over our body for several weeks, since I refused to talk to Oswald for a few days because of it.

Oscar laughed and they remained in a comfortable feeling for a few moments. But soon Oscar felt that Ozpin was restless. He waited, knowing that soon the former director would say what he had in mind.

- I was analyzing our situation. He finally said carefully. - Integration should have begun, at least in its early stages, but it is not our case. We understand each other, but our thoughts and feelings remain apart most of the time. Personal.

- And you think you know why.

- Yes. Look, never before have so many people at the same time learned of my reincarnation, and few of those who knew have done so before the integration took place. Miss Rose ... - Oscar was startled by the mention of Ruby in the matter. - became careful to refer to both of us and this habit spread to all others.

- You're right. Everyone says 'Good morning Oscar, Ozpin' in the morning. I remember one morning when she was responsible for making breakfast and she handed us a cup of coffee with milk. She said 'I know you do not like Oscar coffee, so I prepared it with milk ...'

- 'So you and Ozpin can reach a middle ground'. - Ozpin completed mentally. - That's exactly the point of my theory. We are constantly being treated as different people, so it is more difficult for our emotions to blend. For example, strong emotions such as admiration and affection would be the first to 'leak' and begin to affect me, but you are managing to keep them almost completely away from me.

- What do you mean by that? - Oscar asked, feeling his own face warm and Ozpin's low-pitched laughter echoed in his head.

"I meant, by my calculations, we do not have to worry about it in the near future.

Oscar awoke from his memories and stepped out of the cold water from the tub. In the end, they never had to worry about losing their identities. Ozpin's memories became his over the years, but even the feelings being so vivid, they never felt as belonging to him. Even if weakened, the barrier that defined the boundaries between Oscar and Ozpin never fell.

The doorbell rang downstairs as Oscar dried, so he just slipped his legs into pajama bottoms and walked downstairs with the towel over his shoulders, still thinking. There was no doubt that Ruby was responsible for remaining faithful to who he was. Whether she treated him as an individual or the fact that he himself so fiercely guarded his feelings for her against Ozpin. Those teenage feelings that had just matured over the years were the one thing Oscar would never share with anyone.

Opening the door, Oscar almost fell back in surprise. Instead of the deliverer a semi frozen Ruby Rose was standing on its mat. She had snow trapped in her hood, sad eyes and a forced smile on her face that made Oscar's heart sink into his chest.

- Hey, Oscar.