#making the fire look sort of human heart-shaped was an accident at first but it’s a sign

[hazyange1s]

and the rest is history 😌

I’ve been wanting to draw this scene forever — it’s one of my personal favorite quests, besides being a catalytic point for Seb and Raegan’s relationship as a whole. I like to think this is the moment they realize that there’s something more than just camaraderie going on here… and that they’d die for each other what who said that

[jaskiersvalley]

Witchers didn't have daemons, that was a known fact. They were terrifying in their solitude, unfeeling and unaffected. Monsters made to fight monsters, they didn't need part of their soul for that. What the general public didn't know though was that the daemons weren't imprisoned somewhere, nor were they dead. The mages had figured out a way to separate daemon from child and force it into the most unnatural of shapes, another human. It meant two Witchers from a single child and the best part was, neither child nor daemon felt any connection to their counterpart once the process of the trials was complete.

In an effort to make sure full separation was certain and not even a sentimental link remained, daemons and children were separated and trained in different schools. Lambert had arrived at Kaer Morhen, still tripping over unfamiliar human feet and seething at being separated from his human. Over the years he tried to remember his human but, like all Witchers, they were given new names when they got their medallions and Lambert didn't think Luca still went by that name, nor would he be the scrawny kid Lambert remembered him as.

Whenever Lambert met another Witcher, he couldn't help but wonder whether it was his Luca that he was meeting. Though he wanted to believe that there would be a spark some kind of recognition there. He had been a little relieved when he met Letho and there was nothing there between them.

Of course Geralt had to be the first one to find his daemon. The smug bastard had found a bard who told people his daemon was a flea which was just like him; unnoticeable until he causes a nuisance. Most pitied him but Geralt had seen through the charade. He watched the bard without a daemon, curiosity and caution allowed him to permit Jaskier to tag along. The story tumbled out eventually.

"My great grandparents bought me. I was some kind of freak novelty some merchants were selling."

That was all Geralt had needed to hear and he was all but dragging Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in the winter. Nobody had expected Vesemir's face to close off completely.

"I remember you!" Jaskier said in way of greeting. "You were a dick."

"Julian." The reply was terse and tight.

Lambert got a front view seat to seeing Geralt's face flit through more emotions in one second than he usually did in a whole year. The embrace was tight, Geralt's nose buried in Jaskier's hair.

Jealousy trickled through Lambert's veins. For all he knew, his human was already a dead Witcher. There was no link between Witcher and daemon, the trials severed it all completely so when one died, the other didn't even notice, let alone die from it.

"Why isn't he a Witcher?" Eskel asked, eyes glued to the happy reunion.

"Kaer Morhen needed money. Your cohort, the daemons didn't become Witchers. We sold them to the highest bigger."

Lambert didn't expect Eskel to punch Vesemir across the jaw but he was sure as shit glad he saw it. It meant he didn't need to do it on behalf of Geralt and Eskel. For the first time though, Lambert had an optimistic thought.

"It might mean he's living a happy life somewhere. I mean, look at Jaskier. He's had it better than us."

That was a topic that came up repeatedly over the next few weeks. They dreamed up all sorts of fancy lives Eskel's daemon could have lived, the wonders he would have seen. Through it all, Lambert bitterly wished his daemon could have been anything but a Witcher. Alas, Vesemir rapidly disillusioned him from that idea.

"He's become a Witcher, probably dead by now. And if you met him, you'd probably wish he was."

"Is that so?" Lambert drawled, emptying his tankard with a disappointed sigh. He couldn't believe it was empty again.

"You suffered the same shit fate I did. Your human was trained by Cats. Guxart turned into an utter dick."

The words were muttered darkly and Lambert tried not to take it to heart how much hatred Vesemir oozed. It made him all that much more determined to not go the same way as the bitter old man. Instead, he turned to Geralt with a leer. "So, is it gay or is it masturbation to want to get off with your own daemon?"

To say the table erupted in uproar was an understatement. Geralt was scowling somewhat fierce, arms crossed over his chest in protest. It only egged Lambert on further.

"I think it's incest," he declared with a shit eating grin. "Technically it's part of your family because you have the same parents."

"It's masturbation at most." Geralt was growling and glowering. "Because the daemon was still part of you."

Through it all, Eskel stayed rather quiet. It was only when the other two looked to him for opinion that he leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with a serious crease to his brows.

"I think-" the words were low and measured, "-that as long as everyone involved consents, it's fucking hot is what it is."

"The only thing it is," Vesemir finally butted in, "is a disaster waiting to happen. You don't want to meet your counterparts. Trust me."

Except that only made Lambert all the more keen. He wanted to both prove Vesemir wrong and also have what Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be hurtling towards. So, come spring, he set out with the intent of fulfilling one contract only. It was one that he would pay himself for in emotional fulfilment. He was going to find every Cat he could until he found Luca.

He met Gaetan along his travels who laughed in his face and said he was much more into snakes than wolves. That was an encounter Lambert was more than eager to cut short because he did not want to think about how Letho and Gaetan were oddly complementary. It was also another jolt of bitter jealousy, another Witcher and daemon had been reunited while he was still out there looking for his own. Assuming Luca had survived.

Meeting Guxart was a bit of an accident and Lambert wished he'd not encountered the old Cat. He growled and hissed about his stupid daemon who would probably have turned into a useless pigeon if left alone. There was obviously no love lost between them and Lambert desperately hoped he wasn't going to have the same fate.

Third time lucky, as the saying went. Lambert had trailed the new Cat for a few days, learning his habits and watching him work. There was no ounce of recognition or familiarity. But then again, the last time Lambert saw Luca, they were being dragged away from each other, foreign hands on his rapidly shifting body so his eyes could barely adjust enough to see the screaming, tear filled face of his human. It was quite possibly the worst last image he could have had of Luca.

Satisfied that the Cat wasn't someone Lambert wouldn't want to associate with, he approached in the evening when the campfire was still bright but slowly settling.

"I was wondering when my shadow would make himself known," the Cat said easily enough, barely glancing up from where he was whittling something.

The last two times Lambert had tried to be careful with exploring the idea of the Cat Witcher being his human. He was tired and cut straight to the point.

"Luca?"

By the fire the man froze. It was only luck that meant Lambert could hear the shuddering exhales of someone trying to keep up the façade of calm and collected. Finally, the man set his carving aside and stood with an easy smile that felt like a thousand lies.

"I go by Aiden." It wasn't a reply and Lambert knew it.

"I don't remember my name," he admitted softly, desperately hoping he wasn't about to make an utter tit of himself. "People call me Lambert. But I'm looking for my Luca."

He didn't expect to suddenly have an armful of Witcher clinging to him like their very lives depended on it.

"It's really you!" Aiden sounded close to tears. "You never did have a single name, usually going by Idiot, Pain In The Butt, Menace and so many other equally flattering names."

"Guess that never changed," Lambert laughed wetly. He held Aiden close, wishing he could feel as he used to when they were connected. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

It was just that start of something Lambert never thought he'd have. Easy companionship, shared disdain for the whole Witcher thing, stories upon stories of contracts gone well, gone wrong, or just plain gone. By the time winter rolled round, Lambert was firmly of the opinion that he and Aiden would travel together, fuck the Path and all the teachings about it being lonely. If Geralt could have his bard then they sure as hell could have each other.

Getting to Kaer Morhen, Lambert gleefully had an arm slung around Aiden's shoulder, introducing him to the rest of his family. He especially delighted in the flaring of Vesemir's nostrils as he took in the situation.

"Cats and Wolves don't mix. You of all people should know that."

"And you should know it's my life's mission to prove you wrong, old man," Lambert shot back.

Perhaps the most curious part of the whole winter was that Geralt was already back with not one, but two guests. Jaskier was a known quantity and Lambert greeted him warmly. The other though was a near silent man who watched them through eyes that looked way too old for his body.

"This is Cahir," Geralt said when the man didn't even introduce himself. "We'd heard rumours of a Nilfgaardian without a daemon and went to investigate."

"Not a Nilfgaardian," Cahir grumbled with a half-hearted glare.

It took Lambert a moment to figure out just why Geralt would bring such a man back before his eyes widened in delighted realisation.

"You think that-"

"Mhm."

That was the extent of their conversation because Lambert was cackling in delight. He looked Cahir over with a newfound interest. Young, like Jaskier but so very different in behaviour. As much as they'd wondered about Eskel's daemon's fate, this wasn't one they'd predicted.

Three days later Eskel was leading Scorpion into Kaer Morhen's courtyard. Lambert and Aiden were all but bouncing with excitement, not wanting to miss the moment Eskel met his daemon. In their opinion Geralt was drawing things out and making it less fun by not having them all meet in the stables. Instead, Eskel was allowed to venture into the kitchen in the company of Lambert and Aiden who were vibrating in anticipation.

"Eskel," Geralt greeted him with a warm hug. Jaskier and Cahir were behind him, even Vesemir had ventured out to see what the outcome would be. "It's good to have you home. Allow me to introduce you to Cahir."

The two looked at each other with guarded gazes and Eskel gave a terse nod. It was as anticlimactic as fuck. No recognition, not interest, nothing. Just a slow once over which, if Lambert had thought about it, was pretty much a mirror image of each other, equally considering and closed off.

Despondent, he dragged Aiden off, helping lay the table for a shared meal. Vesemir was quick to follow, there was no way to tell whether he was disappointed or relieved by the lack of drama. Geralt and Jaskier wandered out, oddly deflated. Not two seconds later there was an almighty crash from the kitchen and they were all racing back. Only to turn right around and flee after a glimpse of Cahir pinning Eskel to a wall and kissing him like Eskel was the last gasp of air for a drowning man.

"So, are they?" Jaskier asked, glancing towards the kitchen. Something else crashed and thumped but it was best not to investigate.

After a moment it was Vesemir who tiredly said, "Does it matter? It doesn't seem like they much care."

All in all, Lambert didn't think he cared either. Cahir and Eskel seemed happy enough in their new acquaintanceship, trying to figure out their past could wait, if they even wanted to explore it. Though Lambert had a hard time imagining Cahir as a goat. Over the years he'd heard Eskel lament enough about how his daemon preferred to take the form of a goat.

Regret came the next morning at breakfast when Eskel and Cahir appeared at the table, seemingly indifferent. If the rest of them hadn't see the two almost violently making out in the kitchen before disappearing to a bedroom, they wouldn't have guessed anything had gone on between them.

"Hey Geralt," Eskel called, face passive. "You know the difference between a goldfish and a mountain goat?"

"A mountain goat could live in Kaer Morhen but a goldfish couldn't?"

Eskel rolled his eyes. "No, a goldfish mucks around a fountain."

"And a mountain goat fucks around a mountain," Cahir finished the joke. He and Eskel high fived without looking at each other. Lambert only smacked his head on the table when Cahir continued, "And I am no goldfish."

[mysterious-prophetess]

Thanks to there being something of a resurrection of the Phandom on my dash, I’d like to share an AU concept I’ve come up with.

I call it “Fenton’s Inferno.

The rest will be below the read more

Danny died mere days before the Portal accident was supposed to half-kill him.

This has set all sorts of timelines into disarray.

Maddie Fenton, reeling from her son’s death throws herself into her work double-checking everything and finding the ‘On/Off’ switch was INSIDE the portal so she made sure it was unplugged flicked it on and once they’d done more of their due diligence, the Fentons fired up the Portal.

Shortly after, they use their Specter Speeder to go into the zone and find the Ghost Zone is nothing like they’d imagined. 

As Jack is blathering about the data, Maddie’s eye is caught by strange doors in front of strange pockets. 

One in particular seems to be a door that looks uncannily like the one to their ghost zone and it’s in front of what looks like Cape Canaveral crossed with the Moon. They enter it after a moment.

There, with a sort of blue-white skin tone, white hair, and glowing green eyes floating in front of a space telescope was Danny.

“Mom? Dad!?”

His retaining of his sentience and memories was a shock.

“Is it really you, Dan-o?” Jack asked.

“In the…ectoplasm,” Danny said awkwardly.

“What is this?”

“It’s my lair! All Ghosts have them, or so my mentor says!”

“Mentor?”

“Yeah, like a ghost that guides you through being dead?”

“But you weren’t supposed to die that day,” Maddie said suddnely. And in her heart she somehow knew that to be true.

“I’m not even the youngest ghost here,” Danny said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Aren’t you mad you’re dead?” Jack asked.

“Disappointed maybe? There was so much I wanted to do but I’m ok. It wasn’t your fault,” Danny said.

“Then come back with us to the human world.”

“Can’t do that. Ghosts belong in the ghost zone,” Danny said.

“Has anyone ever tried to fix death?” Maddie asked.

“Way too many and it doesn’t end up well,” Danny said. 

He paused and floated over to a corner of the lair and came back with something.

“My…mentor ghost. He…he doesn’t think I should have died either. Take this. I have a spare.” 

It was a cog-shaped medallion with “CW” on it.

“Talk to him.”

——————— ———————

Him turned out to be a powerful entity called Clockwork.  He agrees with Maddie.

Danny should not be dead.(fully)

Danny’s premature full death has royally screwed up the timelines and mostly in negative manners.

“Though, should we bring him back? He seemed happy in that lair,” Maddie said.

“But he wasn’t. Maddie, he was only tying to make us feel better so we could move on.”

“That’s precisely what he was doing. Your son has a remarkable capacity for helping others.”

“How can we bring him back? You’re the master of all time? Can’t we time travel back to when he died?”

“Afraid not in this case. A couple of near-sighted eyes are keeping too close a watch on me to simply allow humans through.”

“Then what can we do?”

“There is a way to restore your son’s human existence, something only a human can do. Follow me.”

———————————— —————————

Clockwork leads Maddie and Jack to a part of the Ghostzone that feels both empty yet filled with…something

“This is as far as I can go. Within you’ll face many trials. Life is not cheap. To restore your son, you will need to pay a hefty price.”

“Name any price and I’ll pay it!” Jack said.

“Even your own life?”

“If that’s all it takes, you can have it!”

“Good. Keep that passion. You’re going to need it and this: good luck.”

——————————— ———————

From here the idea is Jack and Maddie have to face different trials based on their own lives, fears, and ambitions all while passing lower and lower into this strange dungeon like building.

Unfortunately for them, they’ve had a stalker: Skulker.

He reports them to Vlad who first barges into Danny’s lair to meet “the little badger”

He’s shocked that Danny’s lair is so complex when Danny’s only been a ghost for a month.

It’s my personal HC that Danny would have always been a powerful ghost and Full Ghost!Danny’s powers are celestial based and he’d, eventually, be strong enough to challenge Pariah Dark but the Observants don’t care that Vlad’s actions would cause wide-scale death and destruction in the human world by the time Full Ghost! Danny had grown powerful enough to take on the Ghost King and take his place.

As far as the observants are concerned, Clockwork merely needs to groom Danny into a good future Ghost King and keep him safe during Pariah’s rampage.

So Vlad tries schmoozing up to Danny realizing this ghost would eventually be powerful and offers him protection.

Danny declines and taps his medallion.

Vlad can’t exactly top Clockwork in power level and he knows it.

So he finds the Descent with Skulker’s help

Vlad being a halfa can, of course, enter but Skulker cannot.

But Vlad’s ghost powers are on the fritz.

So now it’s a race between the Fentons and Vlad to get to the bottom and bring Danny back.

Vlad, so he can have Maddie and Danny in his debt.

The Fentons because they love their son

——————— —————

That, so far, is all I have for this AU.

BTW the reason Jack and Maddie aren’t trying to rip ghosts apart  “Molecule by molecule” is Grief. They’re not their usual selves.

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

Ghostly anatomy

Ghost Cores: are the sole organ that a ghost processes, although the core itself is made a few seperate components.

(please pardon my poor art skills) 

Outer Wall: Thick many layered endoskeleton surrounding the core, composed of hardened Ectoplasm. Microscopic pores allow for the steady intake and expulsion of ecto-energy.

Membrane: A thin porous sheet beneath the outer wall, keeps Plasma and organelles contained.

Plasma: A soup-like substance composed primarily of super charged Ectoplasm.

Vacuole: Organelles responsible for containing energy reserves, becomes active when a ghost uses their abilties or becomes injured. The sudden release of energy acts as both a catalyst to recovery and a form of adrenaline.

Scire: Latin word for "to know", a vaguely heart-shaped organelle responsible for storing information/memories. The "brain" of the core. 

Vibrato: Responsible for speech, and more animalistic vocal responses; growling, purring, rattling, hissing, ungodly shrieking and unnatural echoing. Greatly influenced by emotions.

Mitochondria: Energy Vacuums. Organelle responsible for drawing ecto-energy in from the Ghost Zone, through the Outer Wall and Membrane, filtering out harmful components, transferring excess for storage in the Vacuole and finally, releasing resulting waste products.

Nucleus: Synonymous with the Soul.

-Ghosts need ecto energy to function, and Danny and Vlad aren't an exception. However, while normal ghosts take it in from the Ghost Zone (The process is kinda similar to photosynthesis, and if you're thinking that the core looks a lot like Plant cell, you're right and that's why.) Danny and Vlad don't spend nearly enough time there to sustain themselves and have to actually consume Ectoplasm from time to time. Think of it like a dietary supplement. 

Ectoplasm and injury: 

-Aside from their core, a ghost's body is literally just Ectoplasm. When they get injured they can quickly pull energy from their Core's Vacuole to heal/repair the damage. Major injuries take more time to repair, for example; loss of a limb. Re-growing an arm takes significantly more time and energy than sealing a cut. 

-If a ghost expends ecto energy faster than they can replenish it, they run the risk of destabilizing into a pile of goop. 

-If a ghosts core is damaged it can heal, so long as the injury is on the outer wall or membrane, damage to any of the organelle is permanent and will greatly affect how it functions. For example, a puncture to the Scire will result in memory loss, and a snapped Vibrato chord could make vocalizations painful, or even render the ghost mute. Damage to any of the three mitochondria slows the rate of energy absorption and thus makes injuries heal much slower.

-if the nucleus is damaged in any way, that ghost WILL destabilize.

-Halfas definitely heal faster than normal humans, but Unlike normal ghosts, Vlad and Danny still have bones and organs and all that other junk, so they're not nearly as durable. 

-When either of them get injured Ectoplasm will flood to the site and act as a sort of internal support until the injury heals naturally. So for example, let's say Danny breaks an arm, Ectoplasm will fill in the break and keep the bone held together, and then slowly recede back into the blood stream as the break heals. 

-Another thing to note is that while Ectoplasm based limbs can grow back, living tissue doesn't. If Danny or Vlad lost a limb, they'd probably be able to make an equivalent Ectoplasmic prosthetic while in their ghost forms, but in terms of their human halves that arm or leg would just be gone for good. 

-Internal organs don't grow back either, but Ectoplasm is more than capable of patching up puncture wounds. So if there was every an incident where either of their insides ended up on the outside…well…that missing bit of small intestine is gonna get a glowing green replacement. 

-Danny and Vlad aren't capable of destabilizing into puddles either because of the whole bones and tissue thing, Rather, if they over exert themselves they simply revert back to their human halves and black out for awhile. 

Halfa's and blood type: 

-Vlad's blood type is O-, While Danny's is AB+. Both of them also have Ectoplasm running through their bloodstream and are unable to receive blood from a donor who doesn't also have ectoplasm in theirs. 

-Since Vlad's blood type is that of a universal donor, he'd be able to give blood to Danny, but Danny wouldn't be able to donate to him. If Vlad ever needed a transfusion, he'd have to pull from a supply of his own that was set aside for an emergency.

-Niether of them can donate blood because of its Ectoplasmic content. 

Classifications of ghosts:

deceased soul: most common type of ghost, created from the soul of a living being whose death was either too soon, leaving them with unfinished business, or particularly violent and/or gruesome.

Natural-Born: Sometimes insultingly called Never-Borns, these are Gosts that were born as ghosts and were never actually alive in the traditional sense of the word. Youngblood and the denizens of the Far Frozen are good examples of this type of ghost.

Wraiths / Feeders: Not all deceased souls are feeders, but all feeders are deceased souls. This is a sub class of ghosts that needs to consume some sort of emotional response, along with ecto energy to sustain themselves. Ember, Spectra, and shadow are good examples, As they feed off of admiration, misery, and misfortune respectively. 

Shape-shifters/ blobs: sub class of natural born ghost. These guys have low ecto-energy/ power levels and somewhat unstable physical forms. This allows them to change shape with ease but they also get a lot of shit from other ghosts for being weak. They're a lot smaller than the average ghost and their default shapes don't usually look very humanoid. Examples include: Bertrand, Skulker and Ectopi.

Spirits: Ectoplasmic based entities that represent an idea or concept. For example, Clockwork is the Spirit of time. 

Halfas: Living Humans with fully formed ghost Cores.

Artificial: There are three ghosts that fall under this category, Dani, Dan, and Nurse Good, As they are the only ghosts that were not made by any "natural" means. 

Core bonds and reproduction:

-Okay before anybody asks "dude wtf do you mean ghosts can be born?" 

-Im gonna just. Explain that real quick and get it out of the way, lmao. 

-So, simply put, a natural born ghost is formed when ecto energy from two (or more) ghosts is combined. This is a process that takes an insane amount of energy and really shouldn't even be attempted unless the parents have super high energy levels or a third party who can help out. It's done completely externally and all in one go, so if the energy flow gets cut off before the new ghost's Core is fully formed it WILL destabilize, and there goes all your effort right down the drain. 

-And yes, Halfas can do this too, But they're offspring wouldn't inherit any human features, they'd be full ghost. While I'm on the subject, it's actually the only way Danny or Vlad would be able to have a biological kid. The ectoplasmic radiation from their accidents rendered them both sterile/infertile in the human sense of the word. Danny doesn't menustate anymore, and for lack of better terminology, Vlad is just firing blanks.

-Core bond is just the term for ghost marriage. Bonded ghosts are more in tune with each other than those that aren't,  as they develop a sort of empathic connection with their partner(s). 

-This last thing has absolutely nothing to do with Ghostly biology but I don't know where else to put it so here: 

Esperanto = ghost speak. 

The language was originally created to be easy to learn so as to act as a universal language. Unfortunately the idea didn't catch on IRL, BUT!!!

When you consider the fact that not all ghosts would speak English, it's definitely a good idea for the Ghost Zone to have a universal tongue to get past that language barrier issue. 

The language DOESN'T ACTUALLY HAVE TO BE LEARNED, It's just there. The information is the first thing stored in the Scire. Esperanto can be spoken, written or signed, similar to ASL.

[gloriafc]

Amazing Wife

Jack never expected to let anyone close to his heart, until he met you. You had it the instant he laid his eyes on you.

You're a surgeon, a prodigy attending. You're friends with Miranda and Ben, when she was grumbling under her breath you asked her what was wrong, "Ben forgot to grab his lunch, so now I have to cancel my meeting to take it to him." "I can take it. My shift is almost over. I'm just finishing my paperwork."

You walked into the firehouse and Jack instantly walked over towards you with his charm on. "Can I help you with something?" "I'm just looking for Ben. He forgot his lunch." As soon as you finish your sentence Ben rounds the corner, "Prodigy! What brings you here?" You quickly toss the lunch box to him, "You stressing your wife out." Jack watches the two of you interact a little jealous of Ben for the moment. He instantly perks up when he hears Ben offer you a tour of the place, "Alright. I'll bite, only if theres coffee involved."

When you get to the end of the tour Ben shows you the kitchen where almost everyone is waiting for the girl they noticed instantly caught Jack's attention. They attempt to get to know you, not expecting you to be a super human. "Why does Ben call you prodigy?" "I sort of am. I specialize in multiple areas of surgery. Fetal, peds, gynecology, neuro, and plastics."

It takes Jack a few weeks of begging to get Ben to invite to one of their outings after work. Ben gets Miranda to agree to bring you drinking with everyone.

That night Jack manages to get your number, Ben eventually telling him he couldve just asked him for her number, "But what's the fun in that without the chase."

After a few months you begin dating. And Jack doesnt know how to explain it, but dating you is different than all the other woman hes dated before you. Eventually he figures it's because you're way out of his league, but soon realizes it's because you are different from ever single woman hes dated.

He can see how other men look at you, you're young and successful, and you're hot, what couldn't they want? And normally he'd get jealous but he trusts you with his life. The times he does get jealous or you look like you're getting uncomfortable he'll grab you by your hip and pull you close and he'll refuse to let you go for the rest of the night.

After a few years you get married and he finally knows what it's like to have a family of his own, even if it's just the two of you. You manage to talk him into considering getting a cat. And as much as he hates the idea, and hates how much the cat takes up all of your attention he'd get you another one if you asked.

After being married for two years you find out you're pregnant and at first Jack doesnt know how to feel, he doesnt want to end up like the parents hes never met. But you eventually ease him into the idea and then he couldn't be happier especially when you start to show. He's slightly upset he can't lay his head on your stomach as you watch tv anymore, but he's settled for drawing random shapes on your belly and watching the random movements from your child.

Jack is amazed when hes able to feel the baby kick. He goes as far as feeling it at least once a day minimum, if his hands could permanently stayon your stomach they would.

One day the two of you go separate ways, he heads off to work as you take advantage of your day off and decide to run some errands.

When he gets a call hes talking to Dean about random things like always. When they show up at the scene they get the rundown about the scene. "Three car accident, the last cars brakes failed as they were going down the hill. It rammed into the back of a parked car, that pushed it forward. There was a person walking between the second car and the one in front of it, squishing them." Jack looks at the scene and instantly recognizes your car as the one squished in the middle. Dean does as well and instantly tries to hold Jack back, "Jack you need to calm down." "CALM DOWN! THAT'S MY WIFE AND MY CHILD!" "Hey I get that. But the call says only one person was injured besides the driver." Jack freezes seeing you pop up on the side and start looking at the person stuck between the cars.

Before you realize what's happening you're trapped in two arms, and after a few seconds you realize its Jack from his cologne. You understand immediately what he was thinking and instantly start soothing him, "We're okay. I was inside using the bathroom when it happened okay?" After a few moments Jack's back in action. You get told to stay off to the side because of any fumes that may have been released from the cars. You watch everything happen until the person starts to seize.

You quickly grab a mask and a pair of gloves before climbing over your car and climbing behind the patient. "Y/N get down." "You're pregnant." "That's not safe." "Are any of you a neuro surgeon? This person will continue to seize unless you relieve the pressure in his head, can any of you do burr holes?" When no one answers you continue, "Then I suggest you listen to the pregnant person and get me a drill."

Ben assists you, being the only person with surgical experience, as you do the burr holes. Everyone watches you in amazement as the patient slowly stops to seize as the blood build up is released. You stay behind the person, using your lap as a head rest as they start to move the car off of him. Jack makes you take his jacket when they have to bring out the saw, which gets him scolded at but he could care less, as long as he's keeping you safe. Everyone listens as you talk to the person, keeping him calm. "You two must be married." "What makes you say that?" You laugh when Ben jokes, "Their playful banter?" The guy chuckles as he mindlessly stares at the trees around him, "That's how I was when my wife was pregnant with our first child." You keep the man talking when he sucks in a breath, "How many kids do you have?" "Four. How'd you learn to do that?"

You smile at the man who's referencing to the burr holes you did. "I'm a surgeon at Grey Sloan. Neuro is one of my practices. One of the first things I learned as an intern actually." "Just one of your practices?" You let out a chuckle, "I like working with kids, so I took up pediatrics, then came fetal because why wouldn't a pediatric surgeon know how to fix a baby while it's still in the womb. Then gynecology because I might as well know how to deliver a baby. And finally plastics. Youd be surprised how many kids go through plastic surgery, especially disabled kids." The guy looks at you surprised, the fact that hes literally in a sandwich completely forgotten, "What made you decide to do all that? How'd you manage that?" You chuckle, "Grey Sloan has an amazing program and I jumped at the opportunity. It's sort of what happens when you get told you'd never be able to do something amazing. You prove people wrong and you go above and beyond." "Who told you that?" You let out a chuckle, "An ex actually. My dad wasn't too happy about that one." "What'd he do?" "My mom had to pick him up from jail for smashing every single window on the guys car."

Jack jumps in, "Her moms the one to be scared of though." You let out a laugh as the guy says, "Its always the mom. My wife would murder for our kids." You let out a laugh making the guy smile.

You ride in the ambulance, being one of the only people who'd be able to stabilize the man if he were to start seizing again, and your ride home completely totaled now. When the guy is taken away for surgery Jack bugs Miranda until she agrees to look you over, "Jack I wasnt even in the accident." "You were near it, the fumes and stress cant be good for the baby." Bailey smiles as the two of you go back and forth, "Y/N just lay on the table. You're both stubborn and we'll be here all day if no one stops you two." You give in and lay on the table as she does an ultrasound, the rest of the firehouse watch from the window in amazement as they see the baby on the small screen and they all couldn't be happier that Jack finally got his own family while they also get a niece or nephew, neither of you telling them what you're having just yet.

When the fire station has to leave Miranda is the one who offers to take you home if you're willing to wait for thirty minutes. You make dinner, Jack getting home right on time then you both continue your nights like you usually do. When it's starting to get late you find Jack looking at his laptop, eyebrows furrowed. "What's got you thinking so hard over here?" You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your chin on his right shoulder. "Cars? Really?" "We're going to have to replace the one that got totaled today." "Not one with... Military grade metal? Why dont you just look for tanks on sale?" "You think they have room for carseats?" You hit his arm at his joke making him laugh.

You end up going past your due date, so now it's just a waiting game for you both. As Jack is getting ready to go into work, knowing he can't sit still at all, especiallywhen hes so anxious to meet his kid, he finds you in the kitchen hunched over with your eyes closed and face twisted in pain. He immediately starts to rush over but almost slips, he sees the puddle of water on the ground and looks around confused. When he sees the wet spot on your pants it hits him. "When did your water break? We need to get you to the hospital now." You let out a groan when he tries to help you stand up straight, "When you started coming down the stairs."

Jack helps you to the car, before starting to speed his way to the hospital. He calls Sullivan on the way there, "I wont be there today. Y/Ns water broke.... shit. I forgot the hospital bag." You smile in your seat and between breaths say, "It's fine. There's. One in. My locker. Bailey has one. In her. Office. Too."

Jo and Meredith are the ones to see you enter the hospital, both immediately knowing what's happening, "Jo page Carina and get the hospital bag from her locker. I'll take her to the delivery floor."

You're in labor for most of the day, your friends stop by through the day to check on you and give their congratulations. Jack is by your side the whole time, he's a nervous wreck honestly but hes managed to stay calm until you have to start pushing. By dinner time you've welcomed a baby boy, who has very healthy lungs. Your room is filled with balloons from your friends, as you both sit watching the sleeping boy.

Before the night can end you look at the doorway where the firehouse is standing with even more balloons, along with flowers and what smells like stew. "Hey." Dean is the first to push into the room, he quickly hands you the tupperware of stew before turning to his best friend, "Where is my nephew?"

Everyone gives their congratulations as your son is passed around, "What's his name?" Jack immediately says, "Jack jr." You simply roll your eyes and shake your head before looking at the boy who's now in your arms, "Its Jaxon. With an x. Cant let Jack's ego get too big now."

When everyone is gone and it's just your small family in the room you happily lay next to Jack, now able to press your face into his neck without a giant belly in the way. As you're falling asleep you hear Jack say, "Did we really have a baby today?" You smile and kiss his neck, "We became parents today. You became a dad." You chuckle when you hear Jack huff, "That's going to take some time to get used to." "You'll be fine. We have eighteen years to get it right."

[popculturebuffet]

House of Mouse: “Goofy’s Valentine’s Date” Review

Come on in mouskeeteers! It’s Valentine’s Season here on popculturebuffet, and while I may be single, I do love a good romance story. I find them sweet, sometimes hilaroius, and endearing when done right. And the bane of my existance when done wrong, but we’ll be getting to smidgen of that too. Point is I may not be getting any romantic love this season but I can sure celebrate it. So for the next two weeks we’ll be diving deep first into some ending with one heck of a closer. 

So for our opening act since i’ve been going on in to the House of Mouse a lot lately, and since I NEARLY missed this one if not for Kevin, we’re going to be looking in on my boy Goofy as he grapples with being lonely and Daisy misguidedly tries to help him. Blind dates with a manquin and Mortimer hitting on women to predictable and justified results insues under the cut. 

So as usual for house of mouse we’re chunking this up by segment. Let’s go. 

Donald’s Valentine’s Dollar: Easily the segment of the night and the best House of Mouse short i’ve seen in a rewatch so far. The short is simple but awesome: Donald has only a dollar to spend for V-Day, and wants to buy daisy a tiny but sweet box of chocolates, but his dollar blows away in the wind and he chases after it. And that’s.. it that’s our premise. But it leads into fast paced looney tunes style shenanigans with donald zipping up and down kites and later taking goofy’s broken one and putting it on like wings Arthur Everest styles and taking after it. Also the nephews show up and dick around with their kites because their douchebags in some shorts. Also donald tries to punch a whale.. well a whale kite but still let it be said there’s a short where donald tries to punch what he thinks is a sky whale. And that is wonderful.  The climax is also really sweet, as Donald gets the dolalr, after another briliant sequence where they play hide and seek in the clouds, only to find it sold out and himself dejected waiting for her thinking she’ll be mad.. only for her to present him with the very gift he was going to give her and the two to share a look. 

It’s cute enough on it’s own but after SEVEAL weeks of having to put up with the  three cabs version it’s NICE to have a Daisy back whose not an overly demanding monster from some stygian hole in the sky. Not much else to say about this one. I’ts just REALLY good and I could easily recommend checking it out on it’s own. 

Mickey Saves Minnie: The Stairs This is one of those short segments from Mouseworks that lasts about a minute and is off a simple recurring premise, in this case Mickey saving Minnie from some sort of bizzare fortress of pete’s.. in this case THE STAIRS!

I said STAIRS. In this case Gimmicked stairs with all kinds of traps: boxing gloves, giant balls...

And giant slinkies. I knew one day they’d grow big and kill us all but they all laughed at me.. well whose laughing now.. well still them because Mickey gets past them easily. Pete turns the stairs into a slide but mickey rebounds by pure luck via slinky and uses one of the boxing gloves to win, minnie kisses him and this was real fun. Nothing really deep to go into just a fun few minutes of my life i’m glad i’m not getting back. Speaking of wishing I had minutes of my life back....

Pluto’s Arrow Error: Well this one’s messed up. Look Love Potion plots genuinely ONLY work when the writer knows that giving someone something to make you fall in love with them is inehrently messed up. It worked in Buffy because Xander did so for vengance after Cordellia broke up with him, which granted she did REALLY hurt him but it’s still a bit of overkill. However while it ends up backfiing and making every OTHER girl in school into him, and psyotically so as the episode goes on, he never indulges, as he KNOWS it’s wrong and not under their power or choice. Basically it was one long deconstuction of this nonsense. 

My point is unless it’s used to deconstruct this type of plot or for some shenanigans, Love Potion plots are inherently creepy at best and rapey at worst. So naturally we get one with Pluto trying to make a dog who dosen’t know him love him instead of trying to woo her, and accidently making her bodyguard/boyfirend I guess chase after him for 2 minutes while he’s tinted pink. And yes i know he’s a dog, but he’s an intellegent dog who should knwo this is bad and never gets called out on it and his punshiment.. is one long gay joke. 

So yeah while not the worst love potion plot i’ve probably seen, or love magic or what have you, I could make a list of those and might some day, it is still pretty uncomfortable and easily a dead spot in an otherwise pretty enjoyable episode. 

Goofy’s Valentine’s Date: And fitting it’s accompanying shorts, the good ones anyway, this is a simple plot with funny gags. It’s valentin’es day at the house of mouse and Mickey encourages everyone to kiss their sweeties. So we get Aladdin and Jasmine, AWWWW always shipped those two so adorable, a toy soldier and some other toy from a work im unfamiliar iwth and Timon turns down Pumba. Come on man, who are you trying to kid me or the censors? 

But Goofy’s depressed since he dosent have a sweetie and Daisy feels bad for the poor guy while Minnie tells her “not to meddle”. 

Minnie from a buisness standpoint, he’s crying while reading the menu and clealry not in great mental shape. Setting him up with someone or even just talking to him will help with that. And from a human being standpoint... your being a cruel ass to NOT help him in any way shape or form. The guys a fucking widower. He’s probably been lonely for some time and more focused on raising max. And since no one knows where Peg is he dosen’t have a lot options now he is ready to date again. It’s not MEDDLING to help a clearly lonely person whose gotten over his grief move on, it’s just called basic human decency. I expect that from cablleros daisy Min not you. 

So Daisy does end up meddling, in part because she thinks it’s shuffling around coins, and sets him up with a secret admirer.. without actually getting him one. 

So Minnie does agree to help and they.. put him in a blindfold and have him date a manquin. In front of the entire restraunt. I have no words.. since this is pretty funny and Goofy’s shenanigans while blindfolded, because it’s a BLIND date.

Also sidebar it’s very weird that she DID set Lincoln up with a blind date once but didn’t pull this gag. Point is it’s some funny stuff including Gus, in his first apperance on this blog seriously how’d it take so long, eating the shakes he orders since Goofy can’t see. 

Tying into the resolution to this is Moritmer, who spends the episode as you’d expect.. hitting on various characters. He hits on the wicked step sisters, whose cat attacks him, he hits on the lady gargoyle from huncback and her two friends rightfully beat his ass, he hits on madam mim who set shim on fire and he hits on the queen of hearts who somehow DOSEN’T cut off his head, and you know is married, and does launch him into goofy spoiling the ruse. Honestly I found this funny both because Moritmer is objectively hilarious and because the show DIDN’T take his side at all or give him anyone, and he suffered consequences for sleazly hitting on women. He also called himself a wonder man. No sir the only wonder men are these guys. 

And if your wondering about the secod one there was a whole song about it. 

Your welcome. So Goofy’s dejected until after Pluto’s cartoon where it turns out he had a secret admirer after all. it’s clarabelle! Awww.. and Daisy says “Well it’s better than a manquin” what a supportive friend you are. And she’s STILL better than cabs Daisy. Point is happy ending pulled sorta out of their ass, as she showed up earlier but sitll it woudl’ve been easy to have Clarabelle chime in during their scheme or something and have Minnie set them up to fix it. Or Donald or Mickey. Donald was absent outside of the short. That’s not fair. But overall not a bad wraparound, ending is a huge copout and feels like not much, but i’m starting to think that’s usual for season 1. I do KINDA ship the two, but usually I prefer her with horace or him with Peg Pete. Yeah you heard me and you cant unhear it and frankly I don’t want you to. We also get a funny add about the Queen of Hearts valentine’s service.  Overall not a bad episode. Fun gags, a cute premsie and only one really terrble short. Check it out this valentein’s and hopefully disney will have this show up on plus by next valentine’s. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure. 

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 5,089 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: None really! Summary: Y/N meets Lucifer and moves forward with plans. We learn a little more about what once happened between Y/N and Dean. A/N: This has been a long time coming. I have had writer's block on this story for some time, but I think I've worked through it! This is part of a series! Read the other parts first! Part 1 :: Part 2 :: Part 3 :: Part 4 :: Part 5 :: Part 6 :: Part 7 :: Part 8.

Your name: submit What is this?

The constant thunder served to cover the sound of your approaching footsteps. You entered alone—the demon underlings refused to enter the chamber and were quite literally shaking in their boots. But not you. You strolled into the darkness, broken at first only by the blinding flashes of lightning. As you approached the hulking structure, flames rose up and licked around it in a circle, obscuring any view of what you knew to be inside. You stopped at the edge of the fire, the intense heat blowing back your hair, and raised a hand before slowly dropping it to the ground. The fire abated, obeying your command. The interior of the rectangular cage was cloaked in shadow and stillness. You stared hard into the abyss, trying to pick up some movement or shape. You didn’t have to strain your eyes for long.

There were suddenly two points of fiery light burning deep within the darkness—his eyes. They were red hot, like the irises were made of flame, but after a moment they dimmed and disappeared. Footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, and echoing loudly in the cavernous chamber, even over the sound of the thunder cracking and rolling overhead. You marveled at this inwardly now. How could there be thunder and lightning? Wasn’t there a ceiling of some sort way up there? Something, somewhere above you? But apparently He and His effects defied explanation.

You stepped over the line of holy oil that had been burning at your feet and he came into view. And he was looking right at you with curiosity as he emerged from shadow.

Your heart beat a little faster.

“Yes, I can see that easily,” he said, turning his eyes back to you again, guessing at what you were thinking. His lips curled into a devious smirk. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?” You did your best to keep very still and to keep your face impassive. He pressed his face close to the bars and his eyes bored into you. The intensity of his gaze was unbelievable and you almost quailed under it for a brief moment before you steeled yourself again. Best not to show weakness to the literal Devil during your first meeting. “How is it that a Knight of Hell is walking around with an almost untouched human soul still?”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat but said nothing. He only smiled wider. “Where, oh, where did you get that?” He let out a chuckle and stretched his arms up over his head casually and sighed. “Aren’t we going to meet properly?” he asked.

You gulped, hoping your voice wouldn’t come out strained and tight with nerves. “You don’t know who I am?” you asked him.

“Can’t exactly get the news or the weather down here,” he said in a singsong voice. “And you’re not one of the old Knights of Hell.” The devious smirk grew on his face again. “I certainly would remember you. You’re all shiny and brand new.”

You swallowed again at the tightness in your throat. You hated to admit it, but he radiated power.

“So, you have me at a disadvantage, you see,” he said. He kept his voice low, the tone still casual, like you were two strangers meeting at a bar. “You obviously know who I am because you came looking for me. No way to stumble on this place by accident—and I’m a little conspicuous. But I don’t know who you are, so let’s remedy that.” He stuck an outstretched hand through the bars. You eyed him warily. What was your move here? Could you snub a handshake from frickin’ Lucifer? Was it some sort of trick? Could he really do anything to you? Afterall, he was still in the cage.

You stepped forward and grasped his hand, your heart hammering in your chest. He took a firm hold of yours and tugged suddenly. You couldn’t stop a small, surprised gasp from leaving your lips as you were pulled right up to the bars in front of him. His eyes, no longer wreathed in flame, were an icy gray blue and they were again boring into yours. You felt a chill climbing up your arm from the hand he was clutching. He lifted your hand in his and brought it slightly through the bars, kissing the back of it before his lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Enchanté,” he said. The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. He finally let your hand fall from his, leaving your fingers still feeling strangely cold. You stepped back.

“I’m Y/N,” you finally managed.

For some reason this sent him chuckling again and he hopped a little playfully away from the edge of the cage, one foot at a time. “Oh, you are? …perhaps I do know something about you,” he said. The smile was still on his lips and there was a brightness in his eyes as he turned back in your direction. You gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. “I used to have some loyal followers who managed to get the occasional message to me. Before Crowley put a stop to that… In any case, you,” he said, pointing at you with his index finger, “run with the Winchesters.”

“I used to,” you corrected him. He looked at you with renewed interest.

“Are you sure? From what I’ve seen the only way out with those two is six feet under, you know what I mean?” he said with a fake grimace. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. He gripped a bar in each hand and stared at you, seemingly studying your face again. “How exactly did you become a Knight of Hell?”

“That really isn’t important,” you replied.

A smile flickered on his lips again and he shrugged carelessly. “Right. I’m sure it has nothing to do with Dean being a Knight of Hell…”

You licked your lips a little nervously but said nothing. He seemed to know more than he first let on.

“Hmm. And, uhh, Y/N, that human soul glowing inside you… is that yours? It seems surprisingly unmarred. Pretty unusual. In fact, I can’t think of ever hearing of anything like it in all my eons.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you interrupted loudly, wanting to steer him back toward your purpose and away from your backstory.

“Ooh? Is that so? You have a proposition for me? Because I have several in mind for you.” Lucifer bit his bottom lip. “As you can imagine it has been a very, very long time since I had any visitors, let alone one quite as striking at you are. And I’d really like to get to know you better,” he smirked.

You ignored his innuendo. “How would you feel about running Hell?” you asked him bluntly.

You saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe desire or surprise. “From in here?” he asked, gesturing to the cage. “Well, that’s quite impossible,” he chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think Crowley would concede.” There was a question in his voice and you knew he was trying to feel you out.

“You don’t have to worry about Crowley. He’s… let’s say, indisposed.”

“Is he dead?” Lucifer asked, an eager and hopeful look on his face. “Because that would be great news. I’m so sick of that little, meddling twerp…”

“So, you’d be interested?” you asked again.

“Sign me up,” he said, again leaning casually on the bars, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “But what’s the catch?” Every time he looked at you, you felt like he could see you without your clothes on… and you couldn’t figure out if he actually could, or if perhaps he was seeing your true form, your soul or some Knight of Hell version of it… It was a vulnerable feeling, and if there was one feeling you hated as a demon it was vulnerability.

“There would be certain concessions you’d have to make. Things you would need to agree to,” you said. “Terms.”

He smiled deviously. “Really? And you’d just take Big Bad Lucifer at his word?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

He pointed at you enthusiastically and chewed on his bottom lip again. “I like you. You have spunk.” He paced slowly in the cage, but his eyes stayed fixed on you. “I’d like to know more about these concessions and exactly how you think you’re going to hold me to them. But more importantly I want to know why you’re even here in the first place.”

You thought about how to answer that question for a long moment. There were several reasons you had ended up where you were… which one should you offer up? Or should you offer up none of them? But, finally, you settled on a half-truth. “Revenge,” you said. This snapped Lucifer’s eyes to your face and a faint smile grew on his lips.

He chuckled and wiped a thumb over his bottom lip. “Personally, one of my favorite reasons for mayhem.” He paused thoughtfully. “On whom, may I ask?”

You crossed your arms a little guardedly. “I’ve fallen into this whole… running Hell thing,” you said. “It’s more a side effect really. Turns out, someone does actually need to do it. And I have essentially zero interest in most of the job.”

“So, revenge on Crowley? You took over just to piss off Crowley and now you’re stuck with it. Amazing how much administration and bureaucracy is involved in running a realm, isn’t it? Not to mention all the eager underlings,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s simple. I have my own plans and I want to be able to do them when I want, how I want.”

“Sounds like what we all want, doesn’t it?”

“Let me be perfectly clear: you would not set foot outside of Hell. You can do whatever you want regarding… let’s call them, day to day operations. But that’s it.”

He held up his hands, palms out, lips pressed into a tight line. “Hey. Considering my current position, I would still call that a huge upgrade…” He leaned on the bars again. “So, when is my coming out party? Where do I sign?” He was looking you up and down without the slightest effort to hide it, and you felt the hair raise on the back of your neck under his gaze, but you weren’t quite sure exactly why. Was it just the pure power that he radiated? Was it some foreshadowing? You didn’t know, but it did make you uneasy. Still, you plunged recklessly ahead. What exactly did you have to lose?

“I have some things to prepare first,” you said vaguely.

“Oh, preparations? Party decorations? I’d like black streamers and Devil’s Food cake,” he quipped. You shot him a blank look which only elicited a shrug. “I get it. Enough with the questions. I just find you so… interesting. I’ve been sitting down here, rotting in obscurity and boredom and suddenly a brand new Knight of Hell shows up at the Devil’s cage wanting revenge on Crowley and some sort of, let’s say partnership. I’m not supposed to ask questions?”

“You can ask questions. Just don’t expect an answer.”

A wide smile broke out on his lips and he pulled the bottom one in between his teeth again. “Are you flirting with me? Because it’s working.”

You felt another prickle run up your spine and gulped at the nervous tightness in your throat which you were trying so hard to hide. “Just… sit tight. I’ll be back.”

“Like I have any other choice!” he said with a smile. “You’re just trying to play hard to get, trying to keep me titillated!” he called after you.

You stepped away back, breaking the gaze between you and him, and flicked a hand and the holy fire sprang up around the cage again. You could feel Lucifer’s eyes on you the whole way to the door, even though your back was to him. It was with some sense of relief that you finally closed it behind you. This was insane. What the hell were you doing? Did you seriously think you could pull this off? The alternative was to keep going the way you were—annoyed, frustrated, angry—you hadn’t asked for any of this. Crowley had turned you. So, whatever happened, ultimately, it was on him… Right? And Dean—just the thought of him sent you reeling with anger, frustration, and… shit. How was it that Dean was somehow still eliciting this whirlwind of emotions? You’d had enough. You wanted control again, so you were taking it.

There was a small gaggle of demons waiting just outside the door looking amazed and scared and you turned to the one in front. “Did you get them?”

He gulped and looked a little sheepish. “We—we still have to find a couple more.”

Your jaw tensed. “Well, do it. Now.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Sam gritted his teeth when he stepped into the kitchen early in the morning to see Dean sitting at the island with a mug, apparently at his ease.

“Sammy,” he said, raising his mug slightly. “Little brother… How’d you sleep?”

Sam let out an irritated scoff. “How did I sleep? How’d I—you want to know how I slept? I didn’t. I didn’t sleep. Because the King of Hell is in one room, and a Knight of Hell was wandering the bunker. So, I didn’t sleep.”

One corner of Dean’s mouth flicked upward. “You really need to learn to relax…”

Sam grabbed the empty carafe off the coffee pot and gestured vaguely. “I thought you made coffee,” he said.

“What do I look like, a barista?” Dean’s gruff voice answered.

Sam glared at him. “You’ve got a mug.”

Dean looked down into it and back up at Sam. “This is whiskey.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “Whiskey. It’s 6 am.”

“I run on demon time now, Sam,” he said, sipping carelessly at his drink. “It’s where I do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“So, you’re telling me of all the possible things you could be doing, running on ‘demon time,’ this is what you want? Sitting in the bunker with me, Cas, and Crowley.” Dean didn’t say anything, just held his brother’s eyes with a blank expression on his face. “For some reason I find that a little hard to believe,” Sam said skeptically, turning to fill the carafe with water and put some actual coffee on.

“Do you have some sort of point you’d like to make? Something you want to say to me?” There was a dangerous growl in his voice now.

Sam sighed heavily and turned around to face him again. “I’m sick of this ‘I don’t give a shit’ act, Dean! You showed up here because of Y/N, so some part of you, no matter how small or how far down you’ve shoved it, actually cares about something. And yet you won’t even tell us what happened when you saw her! Make up your mind—you can’t have it both ways! You either want to figure out how to get Y/N back or you don’t. …But I don’t know. Maybe you really don’t care. Maybe you don’t care if Y/N ends up dead or—”

Dean was on him so fast that before Sam even realized it he was up against the wall with Dean’s hand on his throat and the glass carafe was shattered on the floor. The puddle of water was slowly expanding, weaving its way around the shards of glass, making them look even more like jagged ice crystals floating in a shallow sea. Dean’s breath was hot on Sam’s face. “Don’t you ever say that about Y/N again. You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” With some effort, his hand shaking as he drew back, he released Sam. His eyes were filled with a savage light that Sam had never seen before and for a moment he was reminded of the power and anger this version of Dean was capable of wielding. Dean gave him one final glare and stormed from the room.

Sam heaved a frustrated sigh and reached up to rub at his throat. Gulping down the sudden wave of fear, he grabbed a broom, starting to sweep up the shards of broken glass into a pile. Cas breezed in.

His face immediately darkened as he took in the mess on the floor and Sam bending to pick up a few particularly large pieces of debris. “I heard something. What happened?”

Sam sighed and tossed the pieces forcefully into the trash before running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He gestured vaguely at the mess. “Dean. Dean happened…”

Cas swallowed at the uncomfortable tightness in his throat and gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Sam sank heavily onto a nearby stool. “I don’t know. Nothing. It’s probably my fault… I was—challenging him.”

Cas’s brow sank even lower over his blue eyes. “Sam—don’t do that. I know it’s hard to reconcile but he’s not entirely the brother you knew… He’s not the same.”

Sam let out a dry scoff. “Yeah. Tell me about it…” He sighed again, deep in thought now. “There’s something though…”

Cas nodded. “With Dean. About Y/N.”

Sam’s eyes shot up to meet Cas’s. “Yes. Exactly. He threatened us about messing with him, warned us about messing with Y/N, and then he just freely shows up here all of a sudden? And then just now… I said something about Y/N and that just set him off. It was like a switch flipped.”

Cas continued. “I’ve noticed it too. If the old Dean, some part of him, wasn’t still in there with this Knight of Hell, he wouldn’t give a damn that Crowley turned Y/N. He wouldn’t care about anything. He wouldn’t be here. Or he would have killed all of us by now...”

Sam nodded. “And yet he called us. He showed up here. He’s furious with Crowley...” He gave Cas a knowing look and the angel nodded.

“We need to know what happened between the two of them. It might explain why Y/N suddenly went barreling into Hell,” Cas mused. “I don’t believe it was only to punish Crowley.” The look in the angel’s eyes grew faraway as he sunk further into thought. “We need Dean to talk to us.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam scoffed. “He’s obviously being tight-lipped about it on purpose. There’s something he doesn’t want us to know, for whatever reason.” Sam stood up and resumed his kitchen clean-up. “And no one is going to force it out of him.”

“I just can’t shake the feeling that somehow Y/N is going to be his way back from all of this…” Cas said. Sam gave him a thoughtful looking, his brow wrinkled with worry.

“Then we better try our best to find out what really happened when they last saw each other.”

Cas went in search of Dean and after checking the usual common areas he headed deeper into the bunker, peeking into every open door. He was expecting to find him in his old room but was surprised to see it empty and undisturbed. Just next door, however, was your room, and Cas found Dean inside, standing over your desk.

He cautiously stepped across the threshold and waited patiently for Dean to speak, not entirely sure that he even would.

Dean was studying the books, notebooks, and stray paper spread out all over your desk. He paged through it gently, almost tentatively, with slow, intentioned movements. “All this—all of it… it’s about me. I mean, about Knights of Hell and demons… Every single note, every marked page.” His deep voice was absent its usual gruffness, and Cas noted that this wasn’t the first time he had seen Dean, the Knight of Hell, soften when thinking of you.

Cas swallowed a little nervously. “She wanted to get you back. We all did. But she was the one who refused to give up. Even when I stepped away. Even when Sam couldn’t go on.”

Something changed suddenly and Dean let out a wry laugh. “Waste of time,” he said, dropping the paper in his hand and withdrawing suddenly from the stacks of notes like he had been burned.

Cas’s brow contracted. “Is it?” he asked, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Well, a lot of good it did her. Clearly, I’m still a Knight of Hell. And on top of that, it seems she is too. There is one thing I do know,” Dean said a little quietly, “Y/N doesn’t belong in this world. A frickin’ Knight of Hell,” he said, shaking his head.

“She would say you don’t either,” Cas asserted.

“That’s not the same.” Dean licked his lips thoughtfully and stared back at the angel for a long moment.

“Let me ask you something,” the angel started cautiously. He hoped if he could just keep Dean talking about you, perhaps he would explain what had occurred when you saw each other. “Why the hunting? The monsters? The humans?” Cas asked him. “I mean the demon underlings make sense. Might as well be an annoying fly under a newspaper but… why is going after the human criminals?”

Dean’s mouth lifted on one side and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, at first I thought she was just experimenting, trying out her new form and they were convenient targets. But I think it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

The deep bass of Dean’s voice was now touched with gravel again and he paced over to sit on the edge of your bed, glancing at the novel and trinkets on your bedside table, now dull with a layer of dust in your absence. “Think about it. If she just wanted to learn new tricks she didn’t need to hunt down bad guys and monsters. She could have smoked the first thing she came across. But even now she has a conscience or something like it. She isn’t just killing just to kill. She’s clinging to some purpose, however self-manufactured it is,” he said, getting up from your bed and dusting off his hands. “She’s just trying to feel something…” Dean trailed off here and Cas watched as a cloudy veil came over his eyes.

“You saw her?” Cas asked, already knowing that he had, but hoping Dean would reveal more.

“Oh, yeah, I saw her. She threw me into a wall,” he said with a smirk. Cas’s expression darkened.

“Why?”

“Because she could,” Dean said. “But after that I made a point of getting in her way,” he said, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Cas shook his head, not completely understanding, but he felt like he was getting close to something. “What do you mean?”

“I got in the way of her hunts. She didn’t like that.”

“How?” Cas pressed him. For now, Dean seemed content to talk, but the angel continued to press for more details.

“Killing who and what she was going to before she could. She really didn’t like that,” he said, one corner of his mouth flicking upward again. “All I was doing was pushing her buttons, trying to get a response. Payback for what she had been doing to me…” Here he trailed off again and Cas watched a change come over his face.

“What had she been doing?”

Dean’s green eyes flickered up to meet the angel’s and for a moment Castiel felt certain he was about to explain, but the next second the that had passed and he offered only a vague explanation. “There’s some connection between the two of us, probably just a Knight of Hell thing, but… it made it easy for us to get at each other.”

“Hmm.” Cas was pretty sure that it had much less to do with being a Knight of Hell than it did with whatever was between you and Dean.

“I could find her. Somehow, I just knew where she was and where she would be next.”

“Well, where is she now?” Cas asked.

Dean stood up and shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I don’t know. Based on that voicemail she left, my best guess is that she is actually in Hell, and if so then it seems I can’t reach her there the way I could when she was just running around icing douchebags.” He shrugged again.

“And all that happened between you was a fight?” Cas asked again.

Dean seemed a little caught off guard by the question and it took him a long moment to answer. “Apparently.” And with that he strode out, leaving Cas standing alone in your room with a peculiar feeling that wasn’t true and almost more questions than when he started.

Some years ago

The trip to South Dakota and what had happened between you and Dean while you were locked in Bobby’s panic room left you with a hopeful excitement in your chest. As you rode in the back seat of the Impala, heading back to the bunker, you couldn’t help glancing up at Dean behind the wheel and you caught him looking over his shoulder at you several times as well. As soon as your eyes met, both of you broke into nervous smiles and you felt your cheeks respond with a warm flush which lingered long after you turned your attention to the waves of grass whizzing by outside.

Finally making it home late that night, Sam immediately muttered sleepy goodnights and headed for bed. This suddenly left you and Dean standing alone in the front room and the atmosphere was thick with expectation. Dean tossed the Impala keys down on the table with a loud rattle and his green eyes caught yours.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight a little nervously, the eye contact between the two of you magnetic. “Sooo…”

You laughed a little anxiously. “So. Alone again,” you said, unconsciously biting your bottom lip.

Goddamn… Dean couldn’t handle that and he tilted his head at you a little as he gave you an almost desperate look, his lips falling partially open as if he was about to say something. Your blush deepened and you were about to ask him something in return when suddenly he was right in front of you, slipping an arm around your lower back and his fingers into your hair and crashing into you, pulling you against him so suddenly, so forcefully that you were unbalanced on your tiptoes. The heat and passion of that kiss was staggering and you sank into it, giving yourself over entirely to the sensations of Dean—the rough stubble on his jaw, his strong arm tight around you, his lips moving effortlessly with yours, hungry and pleading.

Your lips broke apart for a brief moment and Dean studied your face, you doing the same in turn. The green of his eyes was olive in the dim light and there was a flame burning that you felt spreading straight to the center of your chest, heating you up.

“Is this—was that okay?” Dean asked you, suddenly a little unsure, a little worried he wasn’t reading the moment right. He had told himself for so long that wanting you was pointless, because it was impossible you wanted him back in the same way. He didn’t deserve you. So, the idea that this was happening at all was surreal and he was terrified of screwing it up.

“More than okay,” you replied. Your voice was breathy, like you’d just run a marathon. “Dean—”

His lips met yours again before you could even get the rest of your thought out and the next second it was gone as you were surrounded by, enveloped in Dean again.

You broke apart with no small amount of effort, your arms around his neck, and gave him a shy smile.

His eyes were questioning as he studied your expression.

You slipped your fingers in between his and gave him a warm look, starting to tug him in the direction of your room.

Dean’s heart pounded. He wanted this so badly. There wasn’t a single other thought in his mind. All he could think about was the feeling of you beneath his fingers, the taste of you, the intoxicating scent of your hair… He followed you down the hallway toward your room, but when you both were rounding the last corner there was a familiar rustling noise behind him and he spun to see Cas standing there with a grave expression on his face. His fingers slipped from between yours and you stood beside him, your heart sinking from stratospheric heights to the lowest depths at the shadow that was on the angel’s face.

“We have a big problem,” Cas said. And just like that, it was like you were yanked out of the perfect dream into a nightmare.

[hubbytaeil]

summer fling!au + Johnny  pt. I

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was a summery Friday afternoon, not a single cloud in the sky. You had no intention of getting up from your bed as you lay on the colourful sheets. And yet you wanted to engage yourself into something, anything.

You got up, fixed your sundress from any wrinkles and headed out in the vast garden of your family’s summer house. You felt so lucky you could spend your days off in a place such as this: flowers blooming everywhere, the smell of freshly cut grass and the trees filled with ripe fruits.

As you were walking along the artificial path, the beautiful cherry tree caught your eye. The cherries this year were absolutely marvellous; their dark red shade promised to carry an indescribable taste. Just the sight made your stomach rumble.

As you got closer you noticed a ladder, probably left untouched by the gardener, and your grandmother’s handmade basket hanging on a tree branch.

This is going to be so much fun.

 The higher you got on the ladder, the better the cherries looked and you were eager to put them all in your basket, despite it being already full.

You hadn’t noticed how far you had climbed; such sudden realisation made your heart skip a beat. Yet, at the same time it gave you a rush of adrenaline that was much needed on that lazy day. Your gaze started to wonder from tree to tree and from rooftop to rooftop as the restless wind played with your hair harmoniously.

Time had suddenly stopped, right there, between branches and leaves, your dress floating with them and you breathed in and out. You felt alive, you felt real, you felt everything. You were almost certain that you could take flight, right where you were.

And that’s when you saw him, on the balcony of your neighbour’s house. Standing there, wearing a loose white shirt that resembled a white flag as it moved rapidly. Surrender.

Completely lost into the young man’s appearance, you to let your eyes unconsciously analyse what you were witnessing. The tall stranger was looking ahead, both arms on the railing, hands fidgeting with each other as he turned his head from side to side sporadically. His exposed chest revealed a golden necklace with a strange pendant of which you could not figure out the nature. In your mind all sorts of scenarios regarding that man started playing one after the other.

He could be the new owner’s son, we’ve never seen him so far, or maybe he’s the owner. I wonder why he would buy a house here and not greet his neighbours. He looks so relaxed and his hair looks kind of wet, perhaps they have a pool in the backyard. Maybe he just took a shower.

You scolded yourself at the direction your thoughts had taken all at once. Indeed, he was undeniably attractive, so attractive you hadn’t in the least realised the intensity by which you were staring. To make it all worse, you seemed to have caught the stranger’s attention as well. Your eyes widened like never before as you took in the embarrassing situation you were entangled in.

Shit. He’s going to think I’m a stalker. Well… I can’t really blame him, can I?

You were paralyzed right there on the ladder, trying to think of a way to descend in most casual way possible, as if nothing had happened. But the man’s eyes were piercing through you and you were hypnotized by his figure. He was relatively far from you and yet you could feel the weight of his gaze in every part of your body.

Out of the blue, your neighbour smiled at you kindly and started waving his right hand in your direction. You were taken back by his unexpected action. You greeted him as well using the hand that was holding onto the dress. As the wind was picking up, you remembered why your hand had been placed there specifically. Your skirt floated in various directions and you immediately held on to it like your life depended on it. At this point your cheeks were completely on fire, as the embarrassment had only grown within a few seconds.

You managed to look up again at the handsome stranger. He was definitely amused at your little show and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you had enjoyed it as well. Perhaps he had enjoyed catching you staring at him too.

It was a rather peculiar scene that was enfolding in front of both of you. Two complete strangers ever so far away, sharing this small embarrassing moment. Even if there were several yards separating you, the tension was palpable in every way.

His beautiful smile disappeared from his face and you felt rather disappointed until he started moving his arms. Your entire attention was on him and on what he was trying to communicate.

Meet me in front of the gate, that’s what his arms and hands tried to verbalise and you were hoping to be right.

Your heart was pounding resonantly as you took small steps towards the man’s house. You didn’t know what was motivating you; this stranger had seen you gawk at him in the most sinful way, for God knows how long. And yet there you were, with a basket full of cherries, burning hot cheeks and ruffled hair, impatient to look at him more closely. Impatient to catch every detail he had to offer.

He appeared right as you turned in the direction of the residence. As soon as he saw you, he started walking towards you, as the leaves of the wisteria hanging from the gates made wonderful shapes across his face. He didn’t look like a human being; he was almost too ethereal for this world. When he was close enough you could see that the pendant he was wearing resembled a military tag but you couldn’t figure out what was written on it. Too lost in your thoughts for the second time that day, when he finally spoke to you no sound reached you.

“Excuse me… what did you say?” he chuckled at your response, only making you feel worse.

“I just said, hello I’m Johnny.”

Being so up close, you found it difficult to catch a breath. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I think at this point you should tell me your name.” he put your feet back on Earth once again.

“Oh, right… yes, I’m y/n.” you cursed at yourself for being so awkward but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he was smiling tenderly which was reassuring.

Silence fell between you two and he looked down at the basket you were carrying with your arm. You noticed and held it in front of him.

“Here… as a welcome gift.”

“So that’s why you were up there, clinging on to the tree like a little monkey.” His remark put the biggest smile on your face.

“I wouldn’t sat that…I think I was holding on to the branches in most lady-like way possible.”

“Uhm, and tell me is it also lady-like to stare at your neighbours?”

Your expression got extremely serious all of a sudden as you felt ashamed of what you had done. I told you, he thinks you’re a stalker. Great technique, monkey.

But he couldn’t keep a straight face for too long and a few seconds later he started laughing in your face.

“I’m just messing with you. C’mon, don’t make that face.” He said while patting your head gently. At the sudden touch your body froze.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out. Quick. Say something. Anything.

“It’s just that… I’ve been coming here every summer for the past few years and I’ve never seen anyone living in that house. So, I was surprised.”

“Yeah, my dad wanted us to have some family time far away from home. So we rented this house.” You nodded in response as you looked towards the great villa.

His eyes followed your gaze as he put his face maybe a little too close to yours. You gasped at direct attack and he smirked. Damn if he’s cocky.

“If I were you I wouldn’t that.” You suddenly found the courage to say something that made sense.

“Do what, monkey?” you almost smiled at the nickname, but you forced yourself not to.

“Look at girls like that. People talk easily around here.”

“Well, if I were I wouldn’t stare at a guy standing on his balcony while being on a ladder. Wouldn’t that be something to talk about in this small town?”. Touché.

You felt defeated but you didn’t break the eye contact.

“I guess we both have a lot to learn.”

“We certainly do.”

As the tension grew you were starting to feel your heart racing again. The effect this guy had on you was inexplicable.

“Listen y/n.” you never knew your name could become such a blessed harmony until you heard him say it.

“Yes…?” you responded hesitantly.

“Since you seem to know this place very well… wouldn’t you like to show me around sometimes? In return I’ll forgive you for the monkey accident.”

Well, if that didn’t sound like the best idea ever. Your immediate reaction was a great big smile, by which he also was surprised. You linked your arm with his.

“That seems like a great idea. Come, let’s go get an espresso.”

He held on to you arm tightly and then took your basket from your hands.

“Let’s go.”

 a/n: my first fic aaa hope it’s good 💚

ps: if you have any requests feel free to send them!

[bubbyleh]

it was arrogance to think you knew how to handle this - chapter 2

yeah, sorry. not enough time has passed between the posting of the last chapter for me to provide any new insight! again, scroll down my blog for the ao3 link if interested.

chapter 2: green to blue

Gordon immediately rushes to Josh's room, who he wakes when he scoops him out of bed. At first he's groggy and confused, but Joshua is comforted by his father's presence and quickly falls back asleep. Gordon holds his son, the most precious thing in his life, as he sits on his couch. He holds the kitchen knife tightly, away from Joshua.

He's not sure why nothing is happening. Gordon is half an hour deep into planning a move in his head when he realizes this. The Fae who was outside seems to have just done... nothing? Gordon's not entirely willing to believe they've just given up.

The sun begins to rise. The clock begins to creep closer to a time Gordon would usually wake up. He convinces himself, maybe, that the random Fae was just a one-off encounter. Gently, Gordon sets Joshua down on the couch, making sure he's still covered by the blanket from his room. He doesn't really want to leave Joshua's side, but at least he can still see him from the kitchen.

Joshua will probably be up soon, and Gordon wants to have breakfast ready by then. Having something to eat will occupy Josh for at least a little bit, which means any chaos he causes today will be delayed for at least a little bit.

As quietly as he can, Gordon starts sorting through his kitchen. He leaves the knife on the counter, within reach should the need arise. Normally he wouldn't make pancakes without a special occasion, but after the stress of last night, let alone the stress of the past month, he thinks he deserves some goddamn pancakes.

It's extremely easy to disappear into a task. Making breakfast while keeping an eye on Joshua is enough that Gordon doesn't begin asking himself questions, like why Fae would even be coming around and asking for Joshua now. He pushes thoughts like those aside, because he's a rational adult who's fully capable of compartmentalizing! He can have a panic attack later, when they've safely skipped town!

Once Josh wakes up, he's quick to his father's side, repeating "Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!" Josh jumps as he speaks, grabbing onto the edge of Gordon's shirt.

Well, Gordon thinks, Fae or not, kids love pancakes. He picks Josh up, holding him with one arm as he flips a pancake. "Whoah, no good morning?" he teases.

Josh grumbles out a, "Good morning" before attempting to climb over his father towards the stack of finished pancakes.

"Slow down there, kid," he says, pushing Joshua's insistent hand away from the plate. "What makes you think you're getting any?"

The absolute look of betrayal that Josh's face turns into is absolutely hilarious, so much so that Gordon has to stop himself from completely bursting into laughter. "But I want them!" Josh insists.

"Yeah, well, maybe I made them all for myself. Didn't think of that now, did you?"

Joshua furrows his brow and attempts to wiggle out of Gordon's grasp towards the pancakes. The safety hazard that is Josh messing around near a heated iron pan is not lost on Gordon, who cries out, "Josh, hey!" The words scare Josh enough that he freezes, allowing Gordon the chance to get Josh back on the floor, away from the stove top.

"Joshua," he says, in a typical dad warning tone. "What's the rule when Daddy's cooking?"

"Be careful around fire and pans," Josh mumbles, looking towards the floor. Gordon sighs, relieved both for Josh's safety and the fact he knew the rule. Gordon kneels in front of his son.

"I know it was an accident, okay?" he assures him, placing his hands on Josh's shoulders. "I just got real scared, there. That pan's hot enough that it'll hurt me if I touch it, you could have gotten seriously hurt." Which is... definitely something Gordon doesn't want to think about the implications of. He doesn't know if iron and fire burning stacks for a Fae, but he'd rather not find out.

Josh reaches forward and hugs Gordon, and for a moment, that anxiety is gone. Gordon just hugs his son back. He takes a deep breath, internalizes it for a moment, and then gets back to dad business. He pulls back.

"Why don't you go sit at the table, and I'll get some pancakes ready for you?" Gordon suggests. Josh's eyes immediately light up, and he nods happily. Gordon smiles as Josh climbs into his usual chair at the table.

Hopefully, that filled today's Joshua Incident quota.

- - - -

For most of the morning, it rains, which Gordon is thankful for as it means he doesn't need to provide to actual reason he wants to keep Josh inside. However, it doesn't stop Gordon's eyes from straying towards the window, keeping an eye out for any movement. Even as Josh rambles as he scribbles vaguely humanoid shapes, Gordon can't find himself completely able to focus.

Because, horrifyingly, someone came to his front door with the purpose of taking his child. All Gordon can think about is potential encounters with this Fae increasing in severity. What the fuck do they even want Joshua for? It seems like a reversal from the old warnings he would hear growing up, that Fae would steal a human child and replace it with one of their own. Oh, if only Gordon could laugh at that now. Instead, he's clenching his teeth so hard that not even a single "hah" could pass through.

"Josh," Gordon says suddenly, interrupting the four-year-old mid-rant about princesses. Joshua looks up at his father, orange crayon stilled.

Despite Joshua's more chaotic tendencies, Gordon's heart swells when he looks at him. He thinks about their house, the place he's raised Josh in for the past four years. It's where he brought his son home for the first time, where Josh took his first steps, said his first words. The place their little family of two lives.

Which is why Gordon takes a deep breath before he says, "What do you think about moving?"

"Moving?" Josh parrots, his head tilting to the side slightly.

"Yeah, moving," Gordon keeps his voice steady. "Like to a new house. Somewhere else."

Josh turns back to his paper and continues drawing. "Um, all our stuff is here," he remarks.

"We'd take that with us, buddy," Gordon chuckles.

Joshua's eyes light up. "Let's take the house with us!"

Gordon hears the mail slot on the front door jostle, like someone is having trouble getting a letter through. Weird, they don't usually get mail. He decides to check on it later.

He shakes his head. "We can't take the house."

Joshua's bright smile turns to a frown. "But I like the house." He grips his crayon a little harder.

"The whole point of moving is that we get a new house," Gordon explains, but Josh still doesn't look too happy.

"But I wanna stay in this house! I wanna take it with!" Joshua begins shouting, and dear god, Gordon does not need to deal with this now. He's halfway through formulating a response when...

"Bro, just take the house with you."

Both Freemen snap their heads towards the hallway, where the strange voice came from. Gordon's heart nearly stops, as he recognizes the Fae from last night (or, more accurately, earlier in the morning). Except, he isn't exactly person-sized anymore. No, the Fae is closer to the size of Gordon's hand this time around, but that does not stop the anger that begins to rise in him.

"I don't understand the problem," the now small Fae says, absentmindedly scratching the stubble on their face. "S'not like you can't just take the house somewhere else."

Gordon shouts, "You again!?" at the same time as Joshua's, "Little guy!" He's almost too slow to stop Josh from running towards the Fae, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and holding him with one arm. It's easier, actually, to grab the Fae, who's four inches tall and doesn't make any effort to flee.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" Gordon yells into the tiny Fae's face. He ignores Joshua's scandalized gasp.

The Fae just looks annoyed and crosses their arms. "Man, I told you this, like, six hours ago. You should've remembered better." They point down at Joshua. "Just, um, give us the baby thing and we're all gonna leave you alone."

"I'm not going to give you my son!"

The Fae hums for a moment. "What if I like, marry you. Then it's also my son and I can take it."

"Wh- no!" Gordon sputters, "First of all, don't call my kid an it! Second-"

Gordon's cut off when the Fae begins to sing, small blue orbs flying into Gordon's face. Because, suddenly, a whole chunk of Gordon's anxiety and rage is gone, and he can't really remember why he was so mad in the first place. Mostly he feels... confused? He can faintly hear Josh saying, "That's pretty!"

Gordon gently lets Josh down on the ground, but he still keeps a grip on the Fae in his hand. "What did you just do to me?" he asks, his voice a little too unsure.

"Calm down," is all the Fae says. "Just give me the kid?"

Very suddenly, Gordon's anger returns tenfold, because of course that's why he was so upset, how could he forget? He's about to give this little shit a piece of his mind, but then Joshua sings. A stream of green and blue orbs exit his mouth, just like the one the Fae just used on him.

"Oh shit," the Fae, for once, looks thrown off. They squirm a bit. "You didn't tell me little dude was a mimic, man."

Gordon, once again, feels entirely unprepared for what he just witnessed. After a long pause, all he manages to get out is, "I've never seen him do that before."

The Fae laughs, but to be honest, it sounds more like cackling. "No shit. He can only do that when I'm around, because he's copying me. Stupid." They sigh. "He'll be able to do it a lot more if you just let him come with me, man. It would be way more fun."

Gordon's gaze finally returns to the itty bitty Fae in his hand. Walking them back to the front door, Gordon chucks them as far as he can into the woods.

[irwintry]

Only Angel, Only Human

Warnings: swearing, fluff, and a lot of angst

Summary: Michael is Y/N’s guardian angel

Word Count: 4.3k

Michael had seen you die right before his eyes.

He had seen the physical life fade as the soul descended. The soul he had witnessed enter and exit from day one to the last breaths. He had seen the final tears, the ones he had longed to always dry, but he couldn’t. To you, he wasn’t real. He didn’t exist. And in those few minutes, neither did you.

Michael believed he had failed. He had failed his duties, and he had failed you.

He wanted to chase down your soul and beg you to return, but he didn’t have to. The silent room was filled with the slow beeping of the heart monitor, and Michael fell to his knees. He desired to touch you, to hold your hand and promise you he’d never let it happen again. But even he knew it didn’t work like that. All he could do was sit back and pretend he had never gotten attached to you in the first place.

-

Michael didn’t see you again until after you recovered. He kept his distance as long as you kept safe, and he had promised himself to never behave the way he had in the past. His world revolved around you, but in yours, he was a myth. A fictious, albeit sometimes religious, myth. His job had never been to fall for the way your face scrunched when you laughed or the way you got excited over the little things.

So, he promised to never appear unless you needed him. And knowing you, it would happen more often than desired.

You hummed as you cooked, mind elsewhere while the stove sizzled from hot oils spilling onto the cooktop. A familiar playlist played on your phone; it was filled with older music you had learned from your mother–– the kind of stuff she grew up with, the kind of stuff you forced yourself to know in honor of her. The hot oil popped on the stove, but you carried on dancing as you made yourself a drink.

And then you placed the rice into the pan and turned up the heat, and Michael couldn’t stop himself from sighing out a quiet, “no, don’t fucking do that.”

You jumped, a small shriek leaving your lips as your spatula clattered to the tile floor. When you turned, your eyes and mouth fell wide.

Michael stood from the dining chair on instinct, rushing to turn off the stove while you remained frozen in place. To him, your heartbeat echoed around the room, but he didn’t mind the sound. He swore he never would–– not after fearing that he would never hear it again.

Suddenly, you reached behind your body, tugging a knife out from one of the drawers and holding it up to threaten him. It was a small steak knife, but Michael knew that––if he had been human––it would do significant damage to one.

He laughed, and you shoved the knife his way. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. That was what the perpetrators did in the movies you watched. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You stayed silent, fear clearly evident in your expression. He had seen it countless times over, and he never imagined he would see it because of his presence alone. Michael blinked, and his mouth went dry. You saw him.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled. “Can you actually hear me right now?”

You raised a brow, but you nodded slowly, nevertheless. “Wh-what are you–– why are you in my apartment?” you asked, raising the knife toward his chin. It seemed like a threatening gesture, but Michael was unfazed. The only thing about you that scared him was the look on your face every time you cried. (He tried not to think about the time you had died and came back to life.) “Who are you?”

“Uh, hi.” He glanced down at the sharp object. “Technically––“ he said, moving the knife away from his face, but you only pushed it back under his chin again. “––I’m not supposed to be physically here. I’m Michael. I’m your guardian angel, and you were about to burn your face off.”

“Yeah, okay,” you chuckled. “Hi, Michael, I’m gonna stab you now.”

“You actually can’t do that,” he said, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. His arms ached from being raised for so long. “I’m not alive. But you can try if ya want. I don’t have any blood but like, go right ahead.”

The terror had yet to leave your face, and Michael didn’t like that. He didn’t like a single thing about the interaction, and it terrified him to know that something had gone wrong. Something about your death had left him on the physical plane. Or, perhaps, you could see into his alternate dimension. Michael didn’t know a thing about science, but he knew that humans and souls could interact on a specific level depending on the transmitted energy. But you were not supposed to interact with Michael no matter what.

The knife nestled beneath his chin proved that something had seriously gone wrong.

You slowly lowered the weapon, and your heart-rate slowed, too. “D-do you want cash? Money? I don’t have a lot.”

Michael sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “There’s gotta be a way I can prove it to you,” he muttered under his breath.

“I have an unopened back of gum,” you said. “That’s–– sorry, that’s not appealing. I, uh––“

“Y/N, I don’t want anything from you,” said Michael as he leaned against your magnet-cover refrigerator. “I’m just as scared as you are, it’s cool.”

“No, no,” you muttered firmly. You raised the knife once more. “It’s not cool. You–– you broke into my home. You–– are you stalking me? What do you want?”

Michael frowned. “I’m so sorry,” he spoke. “I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t wanna scare you. I wasn’t exactly told how to deal with the clientele after they died and were miraculously resurrected.”

Your hand fell to your side, eyes widening once more while you stared up at him. He had never felt your gaze before–– it haunted him in a way he couldn’t explain. He never knew eye contact in any shape or form, and now he felt like he needed it.

“Yeah, uh, I’m just gonna leave for a bit,” he continued, “t’let you digest whatever happened. Please, make a salad or something. And don’t choke because then I’ll have to come right back, and you probably don’t wanna see me ever again, so––“

“Michael.”

“Yeah?”

You stared up at him, bottom lip bitten in while you crossed your arms over your chest. “Are you a ghost, or something? How did you know I died?”

“I guess, technically, you didn’t die ‘cos your heart just stopped beatin’, but––“

“But how did you know?”

Michael sighed. “I’m your guardian angel, pet. Supposed t’keep you alive. You weren’t meant to die yet.”

Your scowl transformed into a deep frown, and sadness replaced the fear in your eyes. He could sense the shift in demeanor–– it left you vulnerable, and the reminder of your accident only stirred up forgotten emotions. If Michael knew anyone better than he knew himself, it was you. Because he had known you for your entire life, and you were never supposed to know him.

“Uh, yeah, so–– I’ll catch ya later,” said Michael. “Maybe in like a month or two when you accidentally set fire to the kitchen again.”

He waited for you to say something. He waited for you to stop him again, and it was the little sliver of hope that forced an unbearable silence. The issue was that Michael knew you like the back of his hand, but all you saw was an intruder. A pale man who fed you excuses.

So, when you glanced down at the knife in your hand, Michael took that as an opportunity to vanish. But the feeling of your eyes burning into his skull never left. As it turned out, two minutes of contact with you made him feel more human than he ever had before.

-

Michael hadn’t expected to see you again so soon. He hadn’t expected to appear on a sidewalk of an empty street in the dead of night. He heard your breaths, he heard your heartbeat, but he also heard much more than that. He heard the panic that shook through your bones, all because a car had clipped the curb, and you weren’t ready to face that sort of trauma again.

He didn’t know how to approach you. Now, after the fear you had felt when seeing him for the first time, he wasn’t sure how to react. For the first time in his years of guardianship, he had been late to the scene. He didn’t know how to approach you.

“Aren’t you supposed to help me?” you asked, eyes casting down to your bruised knees. There hadn’t been an impact, that Michael knew–– you had a natural clumsiness that he both admired and despised. It made his job a lot harder than it needed to be.

Michael had been standing down the block, silent as he could possibly be, yet his presence was overwhelming. He didn’t have wings or a shiny golden halo, but an aura surrounded him. He was light and airy, and he was meant to hold warmth. He was meant for comfort. It didn’t shock him that you spotted him easily in the pitch-black night.

“You’re supposed to be my guardian angel, yeah?” You glanced over at him from your spot on the ground. “You’re supposed to help me. Then–– then why didn’t you keep that fucking car from almost hitting me?” Your breaths were heavy as you swallowed back tears, but the panic had returned. “Why didn’t you keep that other car from c-crashing into mine? Why didn’t you keep me from fucking dying?”

Michael wished he could disappear. He had never been faced with his own problems–– he only witnessed you deal with yours. And now, he had to answer for his actions, and he had to be brave about it. But seeing you so broken, so traumatized because of an event he could have prevented made him sick to his stomach.

He made his way down the sidewalk, and though he ached to carry on, he stopped once his feet reached you. He didn’t say a word as he sat down beside you and stared straight ahead. For all he knew, words would only be used against him.

Your breaths evened out after a few quiet moments, but the tears continued to fall. It was all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping his hands together to keep them from twitching. “I wish–– I wish it worked that way.”

“Then––“ You inhaled shakily. “––h-how does it work?”

“I can’t protect you from every harmful thing life throws your way,” said Michael as he stole a glance at you. You had been looking at him. He was sure you saw him a lot differently now. Like a ghost, almost. “I’m like a conscience. I guide you a bit, help with decisions and stuff. I make you feel comfortable.”

“I don’t feel very comfortable right now,” you mumbled, eyes glassy from old tears.

He nodded. It stung, but he understood. “You’re not meant to see me,” he said. “You never were.”

“Does ev’rybody have a thing like you?” The way you spoke chiseled specks out of his chest–– you sounded damaged and defeated, and he wanted to be better. “A guardian or whatever?”

“Angel,” he chuckled. “Yeah. Everyone’s got one. But you’re the lucky bunch who gets to see my stupid face.”

And, as if it were some miracle, you let out a laugh, too. “’s not stupid,” you mumbled. “I just–– God.” You groaned, stuffing your face into your hands. “I feel weird for wanting to believe, you know? But you literally disappeared. Like, in the middle of my frickin’ kitchen.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda fun,” said Michael, smiling. “Jus’ popping in and out of existence. It’s a little disorienting coming in though. Kinda like coming back from the dead. I don’t exist otherwise.”

“What?” You hadn’t gazed elsewhere since Michael sat beside you, and your stare only intensified with each passing moment. “You don’t exist?”

Michael hummed. “Y’know how there are dimensions?”

You nodded.

“I’m beyond the third,” he said and set his hand flat against his knee to demonstrate. “My hand is the first and my other is the second. See it’s above it. The third is above that–– that’s where you are. The fourth dimension is gray area. You can interact with it but only when the planes intersect. Higher dimensions can always interact with those lower no matter what.”

“I’m lost.”

“It’s okay.” Michael chuckled. “If you fall on the third dimension, and I’m not on the fourth, then I’m some crazy number after that. So, I have always been able to see you, but you cannot see me. Or, like, you weren’t able to see me.”

You blinked a few times, and he could hear the cogs turning in your head. “Science is fucking nuts,” you breathed out, and he laughed. “How does that explain why you don’t exist?”

Michael shrugged. “I’m not alive. I only exist when you need me to.”

“You exist because of me?” you asked, your voice so soft it sent a shiver up his spine.

He nodded.

“Are you–– am I able to–– to touch you?”

“Touch?” asked Michael. “Darling, you nearly cut me with your knife.”

“Oh.”

He let out another laugh. The dynamic had changed in a positive way, and he swore to himself that he would never fuck it up again. “Give it a try,” he said, holding out his hand.

You looked up at him and back down at his hand, and you soon raised yours just above his. He could sense your reluctance, and he hoped you couldn’t sense his. Once your fingers brushed his knuckles, it hardly mattered. It was a sensation Michael had never felt before. A sensation that made him feel a little more human.

-

“What’s the danger tonight?”

Michael hadn’t seen you before your words hit him. He had appeared in the candy aisle of a convenient store, one hand gripping hard against the plastic shelving to keep himself steady. And, for the first time, he suspected nothing. For the first time, he didn’t feel your presence or understand why he stood where he stood.

“I, um––“ Michael turned around, and his stomach lurched at the sight of you. You were there in a simple pair of mesh shorts and your mother’s college sweatshirt. You were there, Red Bull in hands and eyes red and watery, and he immediately knew it was from tears. “I dunno,” he said with a shrug.

You let out a laugh. A dry laugh that took all of your energy to conjure up. “Okay,” you replied and stepped toward him.

“Did ya miss me?” he asked–– an honest attempt at trying to lighten the mood.

The close proximity made it easier to see the exhaustion in your features. You weren’t close to dying or in imminent, heart-wrenching danger. You just needed a friend.

You shrugged, eyes flickering down to glance at your shoes. “Don’t know you,” you mumbled.

Michael nodded. You were right. You had no reason to miss him–– you had no reason to want to. All he was to you was a product of imagination. You saw him as a figment, something that came from a tragic memory, and you had no reason to believe in his existence.

“Do you only have those clothes?” you asked and motioned to the faded plaid shirt he wore.

“I’m supposed t’blend in,” he said.

You chuckled, and he noticed that it had been more genuine than the last. “So, you don’t like, sweat or anything?”

“Sweat?”

“Yeah, sweat,” you said, yet he stared at you in confusion. “If you get too hot?”

“Oh.” Michael nodded at you and smiled. “Yeah, I can’t feel temperature. Well, I mean I couldn’t before. I dunno if that’s changed now that I’m kinda a physical being.” It was still weird to him. He had been a personified “being” from the start, but never existed on the physical plane you were on. And now that he did, he didn’t know what sort of laws he fit into.

He felt a little more human and a little less angel.

You looked behind you, eyes locking on the drink coolers until you turned back to face him. “Well, Michael, it doesn’t hurt to find out,” you said.

A pang of anxiety rushed through him; it wasn’t a new feeling, but he had only experienced it in relation to your actions. He never experienced nerves pertaining to his own self, and he wasn’t sure why he was nervous in the first place. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

You opened the cooler door for him without warning, and Michael was suddenly hit with a new feeling that he couldn’t describe. A sensation that he swore he only imagined.

“Do you feel it?” you asked.

He swallowed. “Uh, I think.”

You reached your arm out and pushed him forward gently, and this time, the cold slithered up his arms and under his clothes. And he hated it. He hated every goddamn thing about it.

You shut the door.

Michael stayed silent for a moment or two, and then he looked at you. “I’m not–– uh, I’m not supposed to––“

You smiled warmly. It was the kind of smile that reassured him he was okay.

Because truth be told, Michael wasn’t sure he was okay. He had worried about you for your entire life, and now all he could think about was your gentle touch and the way you said his name. He could only think about the cold air on his skin and your warm gaze. It was more than he had ever known, for all he had known was you.

“I’m just gonna pay for this––” you said, holding up the small can of Red Bull.

Michael forced a laugh. He could remember the countless commercials he saw for the brand, and he could remember your offbeat commentary while you waited for reruns of your favorite show.

“––and then we can head out, if you want,” you continued. “Get you a new shirt or something.” You smiled at him again before making your way over to the cashier, and Michael had to restrain himself from disappearing right then. He didn’t even know if he had the capability to do that anymore. He didn’t even know what he was.

And then you were walking over again, eyes bright and smile so warm, it could melt him if you tried. Michael decided that, for the time being, he had no reason to worry. Not when he was with you.

-

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

On the walk back to your place, you talked about the accident. You talked about the cost, the recovery, the flashbacks, and more. You talked about the anxiety that crawled up your chest when you crossed the street, and you mentioned the ache that persisted where your ribs had once cracked. Your voice wavered as you spoke, and all Michael could do was listen. He knew it all––every single bit, but he still listened.

And then you were asking him if he had ever tried Thai food before, and Michael’s mind went elsewhere. He thought about the feeling of his shoes beneath the soles of his feet, and he thought about the weight of your gaze every time you talked to him. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. So, no, he had never had Thai food before. He had never needed food before.

“Well, then,” you had said, pulling out your phone while you opened the door to your apartment, “tonight it’s on me.”

You had ordered him fried rice, and you talked about your favorite restaurants in your hometown until the food arrived. Michael remembered the places you talked about as if he had been there yesterday. But he hardly thought more about your past when he was here living in your present. You placed the food directly in front of him and waited.

“Go on then,” you urged. “Baby’s first bite.”

Baby. Michael smiled and grabbed the fork. “Is that supposed to be an endearing term?” he asked you, and meanwhile, you sat on the couch beside him. Your knee brushed his.

“In the technical sense,” you began, “no. But it can be.”

He gave you a nod and took a big bite, allowing the flavors to settle on his tongue before chewing and swallowing. And Michael, well, he felt like crying. It was new, and it was too much. But he didn’t say a word about it. Instead, he gave you a smile and a thumbs up and carried on with his meal. He tried not to think about his life shifting before his eyes. If he even considered himself to have a life to begin with.

The night continued with mixed drinks and conversations about music and movies you thought he would like–– despite the fact that he knew he did like said music and movies. You sat close to him and chatted for hours, never mind the fact that you had purchased the Red Bull so you could work on a thesis for school. Michael didn’t want to stop you.

You handed him your phone at some point during the night, fingers grazing over his and sending sparks down into his skin. The feeling alone had made his heart stutter, and then Michael had to calm his breathing. He wasn’t alive. He wasn’t supposed to have a heartbeat.

You showed him videos and stupid pictures from your past meanwhile. You loomed over, shoulder against his while you pointed out your haircut from the year 2012. Michael was all too aware of you. He was all too aware of the tension in his shoulders and the stiffness in his posture. Because now, he could smell, and something about your perfume was absolutely intoxicating.

And then, you fell asleep on his shoulder in the middle of your favorite show, and he could no longer breathe.

The next time Michael felt fully conscious, he took in his surroundings. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he last saw you, but then he felt the weight on his shoulder. He felt an arm draped across his lap, and he heard your soft breaths in the room of white noise. Michael’s mouth went dry, and his eyes welled with tears. The clock on your phone read 3:23 in the morning. He hadn’t disappeared. He had fallen asleep.

You stirred beside him, eyes fluttering open while they adjusted to the soft light of a nearby lamp. Your eyes glistened, and your smile was tired––it filled his chest with an unfamiliar sensation.

But instead of moving away, you nestled closer, arm tightening across his torso while you settled your head against his chest. He knew you could hear his newfound heartbeat. He knew you could feel his warmth; he could feel it, too. His palms were moist with the sweat you had mentioned only hours prior.

“Mike,” you whispered against him.

He smiled and hummed. “’s that a nickname?”

“Yeah,” you said, “unless you prefer baby.”

That feeling returned in his chest, but he didn’t speak. You slowly looked up, eyes squinty and smile still stretched on your lips. And Michael didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew it was a good feeling. He knew he wanted to move the stray hair that had fallen over your cheek, so he brushed it back behind your ear. He just hadn’t known how soft your cheek would be. He hadn’t known how much he’d find himself staring at your lips, desiring to know how they felt against his.

But he took the chance.

Your nose nudged his, and you smiled into the kiss. It was warm, delicate, and everything the movies had made it out to be like. It was everything he needed it to be.

-

Michael found himself in the hallway of your apartment building, arms reaching for the walls to keep himself composed. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream–– he wanted it to stop. For once, Michael wanted nothing but to live. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he last saw you, or you last saw him. All he knew were his knuckles knocking on your door. All he knew was the look on your face when you opened to see it was him.

And then you said his name, breathy and sad like you hadn’t said it in ages. And then your arms wrapped around his shoulders in a tight embrace like you hadn’t held him in years.

“I thought it was over,” he whispered, clutching your sweater between his trembling fingers. “I thought I was here for good.”

“Michael,” you said again, pulling back. You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips, and he was suddenly aware of the tears slipping from his eyes. “It’s okay.”

He sniffed. “How long was I gone?”

You just shook your head and grazed your thumbs beneath his eyes. “Just a month,” you replied with a smile. “That’s all. I missed you.”

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Just a month?”

You nodded. You rested your arms against his shoulders, fingers slipping into his hair while you stared up at him. “Don’t leave anymore,” you said. “I know you can’t–– you can’t control it, but––“

“I promise,” he told you, and then he smiled, too. “I promise, baby. I’m not leaving you ever again.”

[snippydippy]

Whoops cringe culture is dead and I wrote a Hazbin fan-fic excerpt.

I mean, technically I wrote it back in November, but whatever. Am I embarrassing myself? Probably. Do I care? Marginally. Will I get over it if I just drink? Absolutely. Like what you like, cringe culture is dumb.

Description of hotel layout might be inaccurate, I hadn’t actually looked at the correct layouts for the place until after (thanks VRchat). Oh well. Also a little long for an excerpt but oh well!

———-

Leanne had died recently. Just about a year ago on the day if her tracking of time could be trusted. It was nearly impossible to tell how many hours, days, or weeks had gone by down in Hell. There was no day or night. Just the perpetual, sinister red glow of the pentagram symbol carved into the rock sky that encased every sinner inside this final destination.

Her tracking of time was rough, but she did suspect a year. A year of unending misery, anger, and confusion.

Leanne didn’t understand why she was dammed here. She died young, barely 21, due to circumstances she herself wasn’t ready to face quite yet. Thinking about it made things worse. Her death was an accident, and that’s all she felt comfortable telling others and herself.

She had truly believed herself a good person in life. Sure, she swore like a sailor, and perhaps told a few small lies in her years, but who hadn’t? She had never done anything with the intention of hurting anyone. Never done anything heinous enough to deserve...This. Sharing an afterlife with ruthless thieves, pedophiles, and murderers.

She often tried to cope by telling herself that the criteria for heaven was just impossibly strict. No one got in up there. One must have had to be a perfect cherub who never left their home from birth to make it on that list. Surely. Obviously. There was no other explanation.

Leanne heard about the Happy Hotel on the news like everyone else. She had been sitting at a bar with a mysterious substance in her glass for two hours, not taking a single sip. She would never choose to drink whatever liquid it was they poured into these mugs. She simply didn’t have anywhere else to go that felt any safer. A bar was neutral ground for demons and sinners. No turf wars happened here. You couldn’t die in hell, but you sure could feel everything, so she had been careful to avoid fights.

The idea of the hotel seemed ridiculous, an idea reaffirmed by the laughter that filled the building after the Princess of Hell, Charlie, had given her foolishly passionate speech. A place sinners could go to better themselves? A second chance at redemption? Yeah, right. No one got second chances down here. Your one and only chance was the life you lived. How ridiculous. How absolutely insane. Impossible! Leanne thought all of these things as she hurriedly paid for her drink with the pocket change she had, gathered her tattered coat, and headed for the door.

It could never work. You didn’t leave hell once you got here. There was no way. But...maybe. Just maybe. Leanne didn’t belong here anyway, right? So going through this “program” at the Happy Hotel could actually (but probably not) make things right. She could explain to her majesty that there had simply been a mistake anyway, so staying at the hotel would just be a formality until it was all resolved. That’s exactly what would happen once she arrived. It would have to.

———

Leanne’s doubt only grew the closer she got to the hotel itself. On her way, she had passed by a group of Demons huddled by a radio, listening as closely as they could to the static ridden channel. It seemed the Princess had more to deal with than folks around here laughing at her ideals. She had gotten into a fight with Katie Killjoy, the news anchor on the station. It had started with what sounded like more laughter at her idea, then yelling, then what could only be the sounds of a smack-down.

Leanne drew in a deep breath, let it out with a grimace, and kept walking. It would probably take her a while still to reach the building. Two days, maybe more, but it’s not like she had anywhere else to be.

———————-

When she arrived at the towering building, she was both surprised at its sheer size and confused with the sign alight on top. The bright bulbs held up by wooden frames read “Hazbin Hotel”. Leanne could’ve sworn Princess Charlie had said it was called the Happy Hotel.

She glanced in all directions to see if she had missed anything. Though, based on the fact that this was the only building standing for miles of this size, and the only hotel she knew of that existed in Hell in general, she had to assume she had the right place.

Once she walked up to the front doors, Leanne’s hesitations nearly took over her. Behind those doors, decorated with stained-glass images of apples, was either the solution to all her woes, or the confirmation that she had, in fact, been sent to the right place. And that there was nothing anyone could do about it. Proof that she belonged in Hell.

She touched the golden handle with a hand that had once been human. She closed her eyes, hating being reminded of what her body was now. Her once delicate hands with smooth, human skin had turned into a dark blue, scaled and clawed nightmare. Spreading across her temples now were the same colored scales, and right above her ears now sat a pair of wicked, black spiraled horns. Her nose that she had hated so much in life now looked more akin to a bear’s. Her skin that had once been a healthy tan, now a dull grey, lifeless in hue. A long and thick lizard like tail nervously swished behind her. Even though Leanne was a beast, she supposed she had been more fortunate than others. Most of the dead down here you’d hardly recognize as anything that had ever been human. At least Leanne got to keep her basic human shape.

Enough thinking. Leanne pushed open the door and was met by the smell of an old floral perfume and the sound of a charming tune playing on a piano somewhere deep within. She had stepped inside and waited to hear the door click behind her before opening her eyes once more.

Once she did, Leanne was amazed, frozen in shock for a moment. The place was impossibly clean, practically immaculate. Not a single spec of dust, cobweb, or splatter of blood in sight. The long hallway in front of her seemed to stretch on for half a mile, painted comforting shades of deep red with gold trimming. It was far too nice to be a place in Hell. Leanne even noticed how the temperature was the most comfortable she had felt since she died. Warm enough that she could take her coat off, but cool enough that she wouldn’t sweat with it on.

Dozens of portraits of Princess Charlie, her family, and their associates covered the halls. Leanne stepped over to a painting of who she assumed was Charlie’s father. The name etched into the wood frame at the bottom read “Lucifer~1789”. He looked friendly enough for the ruler of hell. Very pale skin, deceptively rosey cheeks complimenting a charming smile, well coiffed blonde hair, and deep black eyes. He looked so much like the images Leanne had seen of Charlie.

She moved on from the picture, searching for any kind of check-in desk, not quite brave enough to call out for assistance. The first opening to her left thankfully read “Concierge” above the open door frame.

Inside the room were a few old, but comfortable looking chairs that sat empty strewn about, a fire place to the left radiating a calming glow, and at the far end of the room was the concierge desk. Three deer skulls hung on the wall above the desk’s canopy, and below them three signs that struck Leanne as very odd. The middle read “Welcome!” while the two on either side read “Gambling!” and “Booze!”. Wasn’t this place supposed to be about avoiding sin? Maybe they were just a gag.

Leanne couldn’t see anyone at the desk. She saw a silver call bell and instinctively went to ring it, her hand stopping to hover over it. She suddenly thought about bailing right then. There was no guarantee that this place could help her. No knowing for sure if the Princess was even really looking to help anyone. She could just be looking for souls to collect. This whole thing could be a trap-

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the bell she had tapped without realizing. She heard an annoyed groan from underneath the counter.

“Fuck, what? I already wiped down the god damn counter.” A demon with a husky voice pulled himself to a standing position to face Leanne. He looked like some sort of cat and owl hybrid. Mostly grey fur with a white face and chest. He had large eyes with dark red scleras and yellow irises, long red eyebrows that extended off his face on either side, an amusing heart shaped nose, and lovely red wings protruding from his back that had what appeared to be card suit markings along some of the feathers. Between his two tall and slender feline ears sat a top-hat of equal height, and a black bow tie rested in the fluff of his chest. He looked at Leanne for a moment in confusion. She couldn’t find the nerve to say anything. He croaked out, “Well, you’re not my boss. You here to check in?”

Leanne felt her tail nervously wrap around her waist as she fiddled with her hands at her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead only quietly cleared her throat and nodded.

The cat-owl demon raised an eyebrow at her before producing a clipboard and pen from the drawer in front of him, “I’m gonna need your name first, lady.”

“Uh..I-It’s, um..Lee. Leanne.” As the man started writing her name down on the paper, Leanne’s head suddenly exploded with questions.

Wait! How does this all work? Was she going to need to tell him how she died? Confess her sins? Would there be some kind of test to see if she could stay? She remembered she had no money. How was she going to pay for this? Had she thought anything through at all!?

Just as Leanne sucked in a panicked breath to tell the other demon to wait, both of them jerked their head towards the sound of a squeal in the doorway. A young girl stood there wearing a white button up shirt with black suspenders, and a smile Leanne thought didn’t belong down here. She was very pale, with beautiful rosey cheeks complimenting a radiant smile, long and well kept blonde hair, and deep black eyes.

Princess Charlie rushed over to Leanne in the blink of an eye. She practically bounced as she spoke, taking Leanne’s hands in her own, “Are you checking in?? Please say yes!”

“Y-yes! Uh, I mean..I-I think so? I would like to?” Leanne bit the inside of her cheek. She’d ramble on forever if she didn’t get a grip, “I-Um. I just have a few questions.”

“Of course! Whatever you need we are here to help with!” Charlie let go of Leanne’s hands and snatched the clip board and pen from the other demon. He grumbled, but didn’t seem too bothered to have his job done by someone else. “What was your name?”

Charlie’s infectious positivity made it impossible for Leanne not to give the faintest of grins, “It’s Leanne, your..majesty? Highness? Princess?” Leanne had no idea how to address royalty of such a place as Hell. It didn’t help that Charlie seemed so different than what she reasonably should be.

The demon princess laughed without a hint of malice, “Just Charlie is fine, Leanne.”

Charlie was madly writing unknown information down on the clip board, and Leanne couldn’t help but notice the other demon eyeing her suspiciously. She tried not to make eye contact, just wishing for Charlie to talk again.

“Okay! Since you are one of our first patrons,” her voice shifted into a sing-song tone, the friendliness a sound Leanne didn’t know she had been craving until this moment, “I put you in one of our sweets!~ Room 331.”

“U-Uh, sorry, but I don’t have any money.” Leanne pulled her hands back to her chest, her tail tightening ever so slightly. She laughed joylessly, “I didn’t really come prepared for this, I guess.”

Charlie tucked the clipboard underneath one arm and took Leanne’s arm in the other, “Well then it’s a good thing you don’t have to pay for this! Husk, hand me her keys please?”

The husky voiced demon who now had a name went to the wall of keys behind him to find 331, tossing them to Charlie when he did.

Leanne was about to speak when Charlie tugged her along to the doorway and out into the hallway. The princess was pulling her toward the sound of the piano, “You’re going to LOVE it here! I’m so happy that my little, ahem, argument issue on the news didn’t keep you away!”

“Right.” Leanne didn’t have the heart to tell her it almost did. “S-So, uh, the questions that I had?..mainly about how I pay for this-“

Charlie held up a hand to silence Leanne, letting go of her arm to lead rather than pull, “You don’t! As long as you are showing progress towards your goal of redemption, you don’t owe anything! Just keep showing us your best behavior! Sound fair to you?”

“Sure,” Leanne tried to sound trusting, smiling the best she could remember how to, “Sounds fair.”

They had finally reached the source of the piano music. It was coming from behind two heavy doors with ‘Ballroom’ written on a sign above them. Along with the instrument, a voice could now be heard. It sounded as though someone was listening to an old 1930s radio host singing a song while playing along to it.

“I’m going to introduce you to my co-manager. He’ll be excited to see we have a second patron!” Charlie sang and pushed the doors open while Leanne thought about how there were only two guests in this ginormous place.

“Alastor, we have a new guest!”

The music stopped abruptly as Charlie spoke, and the one playing the piano stood from the bench and turned towards the two she-demons.

Leanne was terrified of him. Instantly and morbidly. Something about him sent a sub-zero chill down her spin that then went cascading out through her limbs. Her hands felt numb, her mouth felt dry, her head swimming. It was not unlike the feeling right before you wake from a terrible, horrific nightmare. Her tail coiled back around her waist as she tried to calm herself

Alastor was very tall, handsome, and incredibly thin. He wore a deep red pinstriped suit with a black tie in the shape of an upside down cross. His hair was shaggy, red on the top with a line of black around the bottom. Atop the Demon’s head were two small deer antlers, along with two tall tufts of hair that looked like they could be deer ears, matching red with the rest of his hair and tipped black on top.

His eyes were huge, dark red sclera with light red irises. His smile was even bigger, sharp yellow teeth stretching sinister from ear to ear. His skin was a grey similar in dullness to her own. He adjusted the monocle in front of his right eye as he looked over Leanne. His eyes glowed dimly.

Alastor suddenly threw his arms up in an exaggerated show of glee, “That’s wonderful news, my dear!”

His voice was the host Leanne thought she’d heard before. The demon spoke with a transatlantic accent, and it sounded as if there were an old radio transmitter in his throat. “The more the merrier as they say!”

He stepped forward, the sound of tap dance shoes clacking against the floor accompanying his footfalls. Leanne wanted to run away from him. Her mind was screaming at her to leave, forget this whole idea, and never come back. However, her body wouldn’t cooperate and Alastor had an arm around her and Charlie’s shoulders before she could do anything anyway, “We’re so delighted to have you, sweetheart! This place has been so very dull lately with just the few of us mucking about!”

He seemed friendly enough, so what was it about him that made Leanne’s heart feel like it was going to pound out of her chest? She hated him. His energy felt...bad. Wrong. Dangerous. She’d never felt worse about anyone, and that included the other demons she’d met down here. Her hands had gone from numb to sweaty, and yet she felt terribly cold now. This fear was all consuming, and it was touching her shoulders.

“So, what’s your name, mystery doll?” He tilted his head in the most uncanny way, staring down at her with sharp teeth and eyes unblinking.

Leanne’s tongue felt like a lead brick in her mouth, “I..uh...I-It’s-I’m, uh-“

Charlie gave a concerned chuckle, “Her name is Leanne.” She slipped out from under Alastor’s arm and gently touched the other girl’s shoulder, “Are you okay?”

Leanne was thankful to look at Charlie instead of him, and even more so to feel Alastor’s arm drop away from her as he took a step away.

“Y-Yes. Sorry. I’m just..” She glanced at Alastor, and instantly regretted it. His eyes were focused hard on her, his grin wide and full of teeth. Leanne could tell he knew she was feeling this way, “I just, um, g-get nervous around new people. That’s..that’s all.”

Charlie opened her mouth, but Alastor boomed over her, “Well that’s perfectly fine, sweetheart! I was being rude anyway. My name is Alastor, and I’m the co-manager of this fine establishment! I’m sure being here long enough will help you burst right out of that pretty shell of yours!”

“Yes it will!” Charlie clapped her hands together with a little hop, “We have so many activities planned for everyone who comes to stay here! Ice breakers, games, classes, you’ll never be bored and you’ll never not have people to talk to!”

“Assuming more folks do come by, of course!” Alastor added smugly, causing Charlie to shoot him a look.

“More will come, Al. Have a little bit of faith.” She walked passed Leanne to the door way, “If you follow me now, Leanne, I can show you to your room!”

“O-Okay.” She didn’t need to be told twice, grateful to get away from that radio-voiced Demon. She went to follow the princess out the door.

“I can already tell by looking at you, dear.” Alastor started, causing Leanne to stop for a moment. She wouldn’t look back at him. The static in his voice cleared as he spoke, “You’re going to be a very entertaining guest.”

[helloemptyset]

description and part of story under cut

31 Day Horror House : Day 19 : the librarian

Rubedo let you leave after you were sufficiently warmed up, giving you toothy grin you hoped was him trying to be supportive. With little comfort in the directions of 'Other side of the wing', you decide to just walk in a random direction, following the cold grey and white hall. The large windows had cut off five minutes ago, now leaving flat grey walls that seemed to go on forever. The puddles were getting smaller and easier to avoid, but they still splashed into your shoes and soaked into your socks.

After what felt to be ten minutes or so, you notice a billboard coated in papers. Nothing was legible except simple symbols drawn in red over certain papers,  but without the context of text, you couldn't make sense of it. You shuffle through the mass of papers, pulling them off and sticking them back on until you find a plaque embedded in the cork of a book and an arrow pointing in the direction you were going.

A door wasn't far off, stood at a dead end. It was glass, the same sort of doors that are windows you feel you'd see at a school's library, and above the door there is an empty square where a vent should have been. You push it open. A bell rings above the door, making you flinch.

"Morning." A voice rang from nowhere.

The library was warm, full of red and orange colors, and smelled less of antiseptic and more like the smell of a dry stone. The air felt thin, and you gasp after exhaling, shocked after the heavy air of the hallway.

Catching your breath, you notice that there was a circular desk in the middle of the round room, cradling what's left of what looks to be a landing pod from a rocket. The room is surrounded by bookshelves and magazine racks, with what look to be postcards for prizes or subscriptions coating under the racks. What few chairs and tables there are look unused, dusty or knocked over.

You warily approach the desk. There are stamps of all sorts and pens, broken and otherwise, scattered all over, the pieces of paper with writing you can't read crumpled or covered in more red symbols at the edges of the desk. There's also a small bell, and you think for a moment before pressing it.

"I'm here, I'm here." The voice from nowhere returned, the sound of something plastic sliding over thin carpet startling you away from the desk. Emerging from behind the launching pod you see something wearing what looks to be astronaut's clothing, but obviously not an astronaut. "Ah, you're that one..."

You ask what she means. She slides further into view, allowing you a chance to make sense of her. Her eyes, on stalks, swarmed the bottom of a large astronaut's helmet, the glass allowing you to see pink and yellow and green, the pattern continuing, if a bit more subdued, over her body. Six arms, all holding something, and a body that ended like a slug, but dry. More arms, much smaller, squirming and grasping out of the middle of the broken zipper of her jacket. The books and pamphlets and magazines she was holding were covered in the same red markings as everything else nearby, answering a question you were very ready to ignore.

"I've been researching a housemate... Did it hurt you?" Her eyes squirmed, as though more stalks wanted to see you. You watch her lumpy psuedo-arms wobble as they hold their books. "The... The bear."

Oh. You show her your 'badge', still stuck to the soft part of your lower right arm. She slides to you, peering over it a bit too close for your to feel comfortable.

"That's a fire-starter badge." She looks up, and you can hear a smile on her voice, "Good job."

She starts to slide off, and you ask if she got a book you found. She stops, her eye stalks turning again.

"Oh, yes! Thank you. My U.F.R.O.G. can get that next time, though. Just leave it in the tiled hall." She turns her body around, her voice sounding affectionately exasperated, "Don't push yourself for something ultimately meaningless. Your humanity is important if you'd like to leave, and frankly, I'm starting to feel that the house is a bit full."

You ask if she knows anything about the house, since she's bringing it up.

"Oh, I don't know much about this place. I only showed up after an accident. An avian let me in and I've been reading ever since." A hand on her 'stomach' pulls into the mass, emerging with a red sharpie. She writes something down on a used piece of notepad, ripping it off and handing it to you. "Here, this person might know more about houses. Find out yourself. After all..."

"Knowledge is safety." And a sound rings out, like a bell. You dizzily take the paper, your vision swimming. It reads, '386'. You thank her, and as you turn away, you trip on the carpet, and don't remember hitting the ground.

... You wake up outside your room, feeling like you were dragged by your collar. The flying object from your first excursion to the tiled wing watches you from the end of the hall, and as you sit up, it flies off. The note is still in your hand.

-

[ image: a very brightly colored alien. she forms a pink slug-like blob with green and yellow stripes in circular patterns fitting poorly into whats left of a space suit, just the helmet and an orange underjacket. the helmet is full of her, with her many, many stalked eyes pouring out of the bottom and holding it up, like an anemone's tendrils. at the ends of her stalks, she has eyes with a green outside, a yellow star-shape in the middle, and tiny black pupils, all of them turned to the viewer. her body oozes through the sleeves and split into three lumpy, malformed humanoid arms, each holding something. her right arms are holding a book about romantic vampires, which has sharpie marks of hearts on the image of the protagonist on the front, and x's over the reviews on the back she hates; a book about a forest, where she's poorly drawn the scout-monster from day 13 and pointed at an illustration of a forest; and a pamphlet coated in red arrows and x's and circles. her left arms are holding a magazine full of red sharpie marks, showing the back advertisemento for cigarettes, where she's circled the cigarette in a woman's hand and put a question mark, and a used, but un-sharpied, notepad, where she's torn off a page and written '386', handing it to the viewer. the zipper on the front of the jacket is broken, two tiny arms oozing out, with one holding her sharpie. her body ends like a slug, soft and flat on the ground.  she says, 'Knowledge is safety.' with a circle at the end in a pink box.]

[stetervault]

hey buddy! my friend is just getting into teen wolf and is already on the steter train, what do you think are some core, best of the best steter fics to get her started? x

It’s always good to have another Steter fan onboard XD As for good fics, there’s a lot of them out there but I could give you some old favourites to get your friend started? For newere fics, you can check out the Steter Week 2019 ao3 collection, there’s plenty of gems there after the past week :)

(Mind the tags for some of these.)

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he’s awake.

To Save Them All by Goldenpetal13

AU, FutureFic/Re do of Season 1, Something happens, something bad, and Stiles finds a way to go back in time to change the past and save them all, to give them a future. He finds the way back and then swaps places with Scott and he gets bitten by Peter instead. Now he has to change the events that where set in motion after that event and maybe, just maybe they’ll all get to live.

Successfully Cheating Death (Twice) by veterization

Turns out, Peter’s resurrection wasn’t as permanent as expected. Unfortunately for Stiles, he wants to see Peter live.

Zodiac by Green

“You know, Taurus and Libra make a good match,” Peter says with a sly smile.

Stiles looks away. “Yeah. I looked that up, too.”

Feet on the Dash by veterization

It’s strange, because to the random unknowing passerby they’re just two friends, maybe even family members, taking a road trip in the middle of a sweaty, endless June, but Peter’s an ex-serial killer werewolf and Stiles is a little puny human who’s eating all the chips like Peter won’t rip his throat out if he eats the whole bag without sharing. The road trip part, however, is true.

Goddess Below by Unloyal_Olio

Peter sneaks into the vestal temple looking for a virgin. He finds Stiles.

steel bars and blood-slick hands by Corpium

When Deaton whisks Peter’s burnt, gasping body away to Eichen House, everyone else pays the price, Stiles most of all.

Whose Woods These Are by moonstalker24

Stiles chooses the house simply because it’s far enough out in the wilderness to be away. His… reticence for human contact on any given day coincides entirely with how much pain he’s in when he wakes up the morning. His patience is limited, and he has more bad days than good…

So Stiles moves into an old house out in the woods like a creepy serial killer. Reminds himself that other people suck on a regular basis and just sort of gets on with it…

It isn’t until after several sightings that Stiles realizes that the wolf is following him.

If the wolf decides it wants to eat him, Stiles would be a pretty easy meal….

This Could Be So Dirty That it Just Ain’t Right by taylorpotato

Ever since Stiles presented as an Omega, he hasn’t been feeling the same urges as his peers. When he’s around an Alpha that’s not Scott (who is pretty much his brother at this point), his first reaction is to shrink away, not try to press closer. Until he meets Peter Hale. Who acts like the most annoying, entitled kind of Alpha on the planet. Except he’s not one. He’s an Omega. Of course, Stiles would turn out to be every type of gay possible.

Beware of Sharp Memories by WhereDestiniesMeet17 (orphan_account)

She smooths his hair back, nodding. “Not everyone remembers the things we do,” she repeats.

-

Stiles is born able to remember all his past lives. After Claudia dies, he tries to forget all about his abilities. This makes things worse and better.

None of These Things (Are Happening) by Horribibble

After years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills just in time to put Isaac’s insides back where they belong.

It’s cute how people think he’s trustworthy.

-

Peter can smell the violence inside him, the urge to do something grand and possibly cataclysmic. It’s there—mixed with a balance and natural calm, but in the undercurrent, it’s there. He has seen things beyond the scope of Beacon Hills’ petty horror show. He has learned things.

Beyond The Shore by SmartKIN

When Peter Hale leaves Beacon Hills and moves into his family’s lake house, all he expects to find is solitude and freedom.

He definitely doesn’t expect the loud-mouthed, too-pretty-for-his-own-good merman who breaks into his house in the middle of the night, unable to curb his curiosity.

You’re Mine, Valentine by orphan_account

In which Peter decides to court Stiles, and does so by leaving him hearts.

Bloody ones.

These Hands that Shape and Hold the World by Elpie (Horribibble)

Before he inked his first tattoo, Stiles Stilinski had filled a dozen sketchbooks.Before he knew what he wanted to do with his life, Stiles Stilinski had a kid to take care of.

Before he threw in the towel completely, Stiles Stilinski met Peter Hale.

Life is made up almost exclusively of happy accidents. (And some really terrifying childhood memories.) But that’s okay.

(Really they’re all kind of morons, but the Buffy style asskicking doesn’t hurt.)

Waves that rolled you under by radishwine

AU in which Peter has the good sense to get the hell out of town after killing Laura. He drives up the Pacific coast to the old Hale cabin and stays for a while.

Night-blooming Flowers by imriebelow

Peter always gets what he wants. Stiles learns to live with it.

chasing tails by nezstorm

Peter was sixteen when he found Stiles.

it’s not the color i came in by nezstorm

Stiles is a bit of an anomaly among the Omegas he knows, or everyone on the spectrum really.

For him, heats are about comfort and safety, and not at all about sex.

A Challenger Appears by azerblazer

In his bed, Peter’s never wolfed out. Not even a hint of claws or teeth. The restraint of a born wolf whose had years of training.

Stiles is up to the challenge.

Fear (Doesn't Mean I Can't Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he's loyal to.

Bring it on.

The Terrible Things We Do (For Love) by rospeaks

Being a demon, he’s seen some of the pretty nasty things that humans are willing to do for love. Things that, were he still alive (and human), would make him hesitate to be in a relationship with anyone lest his partner start getting some funny ideas. That said—

"This seems a little desperate for a kid your age," he says to Stiles.

A welcome arrow by 1001cranes

The wedding is small and grim, because Stiles is being carted off to parts unknown, married to a thirty-something year old dude who wants to marry a seventeen year old dude - totally not creepy at all.

Be Still My Heart (I'm Only A Moment Away) by Ceris_Malfoy

She breaks all bounds that exist between strangers and leans her cheek against his burnt one, breathing steadily, heartbeat as rapid-fire as always. He wants to cry because it’s as close to the act of scenting as a human could get, and it both hurts and feels so damned good. He’s missed being scented, missed being able to scent back, and that makes him want to cry even more, because he can’t.

“If you were mine, I’d stay until the very bitter end,” she murmurs quietly, rapid-fire heartbeat never once giving off that betraying stutter that comes from lying, before pulling back and leaving.

[timeagainreviews]

The Doctor Shows Great Praxeus

One of the more amusing aspects of being a Doctor Who fan is fantasising about one day travelling with the Doctor. I’ve heard grown-ass adults tell me that they have thought "I kinda want to get in shape, in case the Doctor ever comes." We’ve all asked ourselves which Doctor we would most want to travel with. The next question, of course, is- "Anywhere in time and space, where do you want to go?" Usually, my response is "the future." As a trans person, I don’t much fancy a visit to the past. But lately, even the future seems a grim place to be.  Part of me wants to see the future because I want to see Star Trek in action, but part of me just wants to know if we survive.

When I heard that an episode in series twelve was going to tackle the subject of plastic pollution, my first reaction was "Autons?!" I also braced myself for a heaping dose of cringy edutainment. While it is a very clear and present danger that should be treated as such, I don’t expect Doctor Who to tackle the issue with much finesse. It’s no secret around these parts that I have questioned Doctor Who’s capacity for dealing with heavy subject matter. However, it would seem as though writer Pete McTighe has cracked the code- make it part of the story!

I’ve had Pete McTighe on my mind this week as he showed up on the "Behind the Sofa," segments in the new Seventh Doctor blu-ray boxset. (I’ve not forgotten that by the way, I do plan to cover one of the stories.) I knew McTighe was set to pen an episode this season, so I had been looking forward to that. If you’ll recall, I was a fan of his episode "Kerblam!" Some of my more anarchic friends wrote the entire episode off because the Doctor doesn’t dismantle the company at the end. So does Pete show better praxis with "Praxeus?" Let’s get into it!

The episode opens on several different locations- Peru, Madagascar, and space. We’re introduced to three groups of very different people. We’ve got Adam, an astronaut plummeting to earth in a capsule. We’ve got Gabriela and Jamila, a couple of travel bloggers forced to camp amongst rubbish. We have Jake, a cop on sabbatical who appears to be struggling with anger issues. And then we have Suki and Amaru, a couple of scientists working in a lab next to a beach where a survivor from a submarine accident is about to wash ashore.

I was concerned at that moment as I was worried they may have bitten off more than they can chew. So many new characters and settings all at once could easily become lost in the chaos. But the action is given focus by Jake learning that his husband Adam, the astronaut, has crashed. After a mysterious text from Adam, he heads to Hong Kong in search of his missing love. In a very short amount of time, there is a very strong sense of character development for Jake. This left me somewhat concerned as most of the companions have taken the backseat to secondary characters this year. It’s not been to the show’s detriment, as such, but it did leave me wondering if their solution to the problem of character development would be to ignore it completely. But here, that simply isn’t the case.

Tosin Cole is in particularly fine form as the Doctor’s man in Peru. We’ve seen each of the companions grow and take on traits of the Doctor, but Ryan shows a maturity and confidence we’ve not fully seen from him previously. When Gabriela wakes to find her friend Jamila missing, it’s Ryan that calms her. It’s Ryan who takes a sample of an infected bird. It’s Ryan that finds Jamila’s body, moments before she succumbs to a strange blight. Seeing him like this, he’s less like the boy we met on his bike, and more like a man. Even Gabriela was unable to deny just what a man he is. I’ll admit that I was just a touch envious of her getting to pat him down.

All the while, the Doctor has discovered the sailor from the submarine on the beach who suffers the same fate as Jamila. Some sort of infection seems to be taking over random people and the birds, causing skin abrasions and odd behaviour until ultimately exploding into a dry powder. It’s a grim way to die, and one of the better ones I’ve seen in Doctor Who in ages. Above the research facility, swarms of birds swoop in large groups, moving like a single organism.

Graham and Yaz intercept Jake in Hong Kong, where they find Adam, still in his spacesuit like this was the Impossible Astronaut. While unhooking him from what is clearly alien tech, they’re interrupted by gas-masked scientists with laser guns. In the scuffle, Yaz holds a piece of equipment hostage, which prompts her to believe that whatever it is, it’s valuable. Thanks to some badassery on Jake’s behalf, they manage to get Adam unhooked from the equipment and reconvene with the Doctor. However, Yaz decides to hang back along with Gabriela so they can nab that valuable device.

Now, I’d like to take a minute to talk about the way in which the Doctor and her companions are operating as a team. Not only are they keeping in touch with one another through cool little communication devices in their necks, but they’re also using the damn TARDIS! It is easily one of my biggest gripes about Doctor Who that they never use the TARDIS in interesting ways. Most writers seem content treating the TARDIS like a tram to get from point A to point B. I know that in a lot of ways the TARDIS could easily become an overpowered McGuffin, but that doesn’t mean you never use it for stuff. Allowing them to move about in the TARDIS to chase leads made a global story seem manageable.

Yaz and Gabriela’s little team-up was such a treat. Not only was I loving Gabriela as a character, but they finally gave Yaz some good stuff to do. McTighe isn’t just writing the ensemble of three companions well, he’s actually managed to build a small supporting cast of characters, each with their own individual arcs. On top of that, the Doctor’s dialogue was on point this week. Even the humour struck the right balance of eccentric and scatterbrained (or is that brainsed?)  I’m not saying he’s my current favourite writer on the show, but I may start thinking that if he keeps this up.

Yaz and Gabriela locate the device, but as they’re retrieving it, one of the masked scientists shoots at them and uses a teleportation device to escape. I loved that Yaz was willing to see where the teleport led to, as it illustrates the Doctor’s influence on her companions once more. The Doctor has always banked on the benefit of the information gained from experience as opposed to wondering. If you can get captured, perhaps it will bring you right where you need to be. Following this logic, Yaz and Gabriela find themselves within what looked like a spaceship made of rubbish. Bits of rubber and plastic adorn the walls like the inside of the Skithra ship. And oh hey, there’s the submarine!

Back at Suki and Amaru’s lab, the birds are growing in number and getting restless. Amaru keeps watch while the Doctor and co. search for a cure for Adam who is also afflicted with this Praxeus pathogen. I loved that the Doctor delegated the task of dissecting a dead bird to Ryan. It was one more thing for her companions to do, which also made logical sense. While Graham has rather a lot less to do this time around, I was really pleased by his playing nurse for Adam. The subtle nod to his history with cancer got my heart stirring a bit. By the time Graham and Jake have their little heart to heart, I was already a big ball of emotions. This is Graham doing what he does best- giving granddad advice to a confused young man.

Now, I will admit, by this point in the episode, the plot began to confuse me. But this wasn’t the usual kind of confusion where "This doesn’t make sense because it’s dumb." It was more like "This doesn’t make sense because I’m dumb." There’s a lot going on, but if you paid attention, you will be able to make sense of things. Poor Amaru gets pecked to death in what has to be the shittest job as a lookout. It’s like sitting in place waiting to see if a brush fire will advance toward you. Meanwhile, Ryan has discovered the bird he found died with a belly full of plastic.

The Doctor deduces that the pathogen is attracted to plastic and found a feast within humans who are full of microplastics from the environment. It’s a grim outlook for the 2030s, but a sober one. And it’s a very relatable concept to imagine. How many times have you seen a bird hopping along and eating anything off the ground that looks like food?  As I said, they managed to talk about plastic pollution by incorporating it into the story. As the information is important to understanding the plot, it doesn’t feel as though we’re being spoonfed information for the sake of information. We’re learning by peeling back the mystery of this episode, and it worked beautifully.

The Praxeus pathogen appears to be intelligent, which is both why it’s been so stubborn to eradicate, but also why the birds have been behaving so aggressively. If a person gets scratched by a bird, they become infected. This could also be why Jamila wandered off into the night. Just about this time, Yaz rings up to inform the Doctor where she is. We learn that the Hong Kong lab was transmitting data to two locations- somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and Madagascar. Knowing she’s been made, Suki reveals she’s not from Earth, but actually a scientist from a planet that was nearly wiped out by the Praxeus pathogen. However, it’s at this point that the birds have found their way into the lab forcing the TARDIS crew and their new friends to flee for the safety of the blue box.

The Doctor meets up with Yaz and Gabriela where they discover Yaz hasn’t actually discovered a new alien planet, but are actually deep within the Indian Ocean, the third location triangulated with Hong Kong and Madagascar. Suki’s ship has attracted a sort of vortex of junk and debris which also interferes with nearby tech like say submarines or orbiting space stations. They find the scientist they had been persuing only to discover they too were infected by the pathogen. When they removed the mask to show a face full of what looked like teeth, I yelled out "Tim Shaw!" It’s at this moment when they find Suki has teleported aboard this little garbage island.

Suki being a callous scientist willing to infect an entire planet to save her own was some mad scientist level villainy on par with the Rani. Is she the Rani? She’s the Rani, isn’t she? It’s never the Rani. As things turn out, Suki appears to also be infected, and before she can stop the Doctor from stopping her, she too succumbs to the pathogen, exploding into a powder. Adam, on the other hand, is fairing better as the Doctor’s search for a cure has yielded positive results.

The plan at this point is to allow Suki’s ship to autopilot into the atmosphere and distribute the cure across the earth, thus ridding it of this horrible blight. However, as everyone is escaping they fail to realise Jake has remained onboard. Seeing the autopilot is broken, Jake finds the perfect opportunity to show his love for his husband by sacrificing himself. However, the Doctor shows some Capaldi level TARDIS manoeuvring as she saves Jake last minute. This was a nice change in pace from series eleven which seemed to take great glee in introducing gay characters only to kill them off. The two lovebirds’ passionate kiss had my boyfriend and I saying "Awww!" and holding hands.

After last week’s wonderfully befuddling episode, I expected them to give us something tame. Episode six after a big midseason reveal seems like the perfect place to put your run of the mill filler episode. Instead, I found this to be one of the best episodes so far. The plotting and pacing were on point. The dialogue was superb and believable. Add to that some stellar performances from the entire cast, and you’ve got the makings of an instant classic. Even the side characters were lovable and interesting. Gabriela’s continuous disappointment that nobody recognises her from her vlog was an endearing bit of character work that had me saying words like "honourary companion." I know the TARDIS is a bit full, but I’d be way into more of her in some capacity.

It’s hard for me to say if I have many complaints about "Praxeus." As I said above, there were moments when the plot lost me a bit. After a brief look around the internet, I realise I’m not alone in this. Others found it a bit dense, but I am confident that over time that will subside. I did find the idea that they had to search three solar systems to find a planet as messed up as ours to be a bit heavy-handed. But that is sort of where we’re at as a planet. Writer Chuck Palahniuk once said something to the effect that the beaver wasn’t saved from the brink of extinction by freedom fighters chaining themselves to the last few beavers. It was the person who designed a more fashionable hat that didn’t require beaver skin. People stopped killing beavers to make hats, and the beaver survived.  What I am getting at is that "Praxeus," doesn’t succeed by doomsaying, but rather through charm. By the end of the episode, I didn’t feel exhausted by information. Instead, I found myself feeling something far more constructive- thoughtful.

[holy-mountaineering]

This spread is for @lesbianfrannyglass

Thanks for the donation and waiting so long, my life is chaos right now.

Tonight you’re getting the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do and you I believe are pretty familiar with by now. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole, that’s where the divination part happens.

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe a human body, we’ll jump around.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the The Knight of Swords, the fiery part of Air or acting on thinking.

This is the breeze blowing the forest fire across a road. Our Knight has a sword in each hand as he dive bombs a fixed point. He has his airy bird friends in tow and his steed is as fixed as the rider.

You understand what you must do. Now, you must gather all available force to throw at your new focus.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of  your hometown is the 6 of Cups, Pleasure. 

For reasons I call this the plumbing card. The water is not flowing freely as though it is pouring, it has been pumped through a series of tubes intricately woven together to fill the cups placed in the shape of a hexagram. Emotion and connectedness to life are intentionally being directed by unseen but invited forces. Someone who wasn’t looking closely could see nothing but knots and chaos and even wonder how the damn thing worked in the first place. Those people are squares and should be avoided at all costs. 

Do what gives you pleasure that also instills clarity. Center on the best you can feel even if onlookers can’t appreciate what you’re doing connoisseurs (and you) will dig it.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the fan favorite, the 5 of Disks, Worry. 

Like all of the 5s in Tarot, this is the microcosmic or human number . Don’t believe me? Stand up, stick your arms and legs out and counting your head, congrats, you’re a pentagram. Lord knows people worry like motherfuckers about how they are going to get by in the “normal” world, so there is a stress and strain in this card that everyone late on a bill can understand. This is the worry that you’ll get your intelligence (Mercury) smothered by the laborious strain of Taurus. This is, like all 5s a human limitation issue. 

Well it won’t unless you only see your limitations and make it happen. Be smarter about you material situation so you don’t have to work harder.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the mindfuckery boy, the Prince of Swords, the airy part of Air. 

This is pure mind, “reason run amok.” The entire card is made up of strange and fragmenting geometric shapes like the prince’s world is coming apart at the seams. The humanoid creatures pulling his chariot have no fucking idea what they’re doing and the prince himself is in an awkward pose. 

Don’t think yourself into discord. Sometimes when you look too deep at unnecessary or mundane details you’ll fucking lose your shit. Furtherly, focus on doing one thing, stay with that single thing until it is done. I suggest breath work and controlling breathing specifically.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is the homefront, the 4 of Disks, Power or the Fortress or the island. 

This is “squaring up” with the material world or your everyday normal money/job/school/housing parts of life. The 4 or square is the next shape when the 3 or triangle is expanded. You are now expanding in 2 dimensions, you’ve made it passed the threshold, how do you proceed?  The Fortress is a castle or private physical place of isolation and security/safety. Your private property and you base of operations to expand out in the world must be firmly secured, since most accidents happen at home. From Liber AL it is mentioned that you should “(C)hoose ye an island, fortify it, dung it about with the enginery of war…” That is to say, for our illustration, protect your base of operations in your material world.

There is one entrance and around the fortress is a mote, this is so you may go about the world doing your business but you can return and bring the bridge up when you’re done fucking around with the outside world.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the Ace of Cups, the root powers of water which is emotion, connectedness to living things, and intuition. 

 This is the geyser of the aspects of water exploding into existence. The Ace of Cups can be like the yearly floods on the   Nile was to ancient Egyptian/Kemetic people that once a year had their fields simultaneously wiped out and fertilized. There is great danger in unbound Love, it tends to get consuming and people fear being consumed. There is a secret meaning to the joining of two to make none, but this isn’t really the place for that. 

 The uncontrolled waterfall of feeling, it can flow and be a clearing force or flood. If you’re not prepared for such water, you might get washed away, if you are it might wash away the cobwebs and your stagnancy. 

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is the overflowing 9 of Cups, Happiness. 

I call this ‘mutually beneficial relationships’ or expanding influence (Jupiter) going or being pulled both ways (Pisces). Each cup has its own source but everything is flowing into each other down to the base of the 3x3 structure. There is a lot of water and all it represents and it hasn’t reached its peak yet and is still driving upward and outward.

Cultivate relationships and connective feelings that aren’t lopsided or just giving/taking. Keep building  you’re not done yet.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is well, The Guy Himself, Mercury, I The Magus or Magician, Mercury, Beth which is a house, House of God, your body, your perspective, you.

The Magus has 4 tools, physical representations of the Elements which he hand crafted. Think of this as your tools or your skill set in your mind which you use to build your perception of the world.

The Magician also has the naysaying Ape of Thoth who follow him around contradicting everything he says. The is your doubt or “Pit of Because” which if you fall into you’ll “perish with the dogs of reason.”

So, you are in charge of what you are in charge of. You have the skill set to alter your Universe, fashion yourself tangible skills with what you know and your experience. You create your perception and can only influence it.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is the easy does it Princess of Cups, the earthy part of Water. 

We could consider this the substance in water or water hitting substance head on. This is the idea of the canyon wall being ground down over the millennia by moving water. The nutrients and minerals in the earth are transported down river to the fertile delta. This is the natural, “following your feelings” within your daily life. Try not to fool yourself, follow your intuition, not just passing whims. Feel, don’t necessarily react immediately.

Go with what you feel and intuit, let yourself go with the flow, if you will. Allow your situation to move with your emotions and be patient with your progress.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is the large and in charge Queen of Wands, the watery part of Fire or how you feel about what you do.

This is ideally feeling great about what you do. The perspective on the card shows this Queen 10 feet tall and seemingly bulletproof. Her animal the cheetah, known for being fast and a spazz, is subdued under her calm hand. Her legs are spread and the wand of Bacchus  showing all her passions can be controlled.

If you want to feel good about this and what you do, control your knee jerk lower ego reactions. Choose Will not want.

So, you know what you need to get after, you see it clearly, it makes you very happy in a complicated way that maybe you  haven’t even unraveled yet, but you’re too focused on your limitations and how it all might go wrong for you. Don’t build your world around doubt. 

And Furthermore, don’t think you can influence the world how you need to by over analysing everything to the point where all joy in removed. Get yourself a personal and safe place that is yours to build your world, you need the space to not become mired in your over thinking. And the heart of all of this is that you can do this and WHEN you do, you will explode with the kind of love and joy that only you can tap into for yourself.

Now, I’m not saying it is time to ditch the stuff and ideas that don’t serve you anymore, but do that, that is what I’m saying. Allow yourself those healthy relationships where you’re not going the whole 9 yards for people who won’t get on the field. And your thoughts are your own, they’re awesome thoughts and your skills can take you to the places you need to go if you utilize them how you know. And back to that surrounding yourself with folks and energy that allows you to get what you need while giving what you can and getting to where you need to go. Drop the drama and folks that bring it. Find the substance in the feeling that allows you to move in the ways natural to you.

Ta Da! Hit me up with any questions and sorry for the wait!

[psychosistr]

Friendly Four Concepts

Had a bit of a rough day a little while ago and, to make myself feel better, I started looking through the various designs that people have come up with for the Negaverse versions of Quackerjack, Megavolt, Liquidator, and Bushroot- AKA, the Friendly Four. My favorite versions are the ones by @thefriendlyfour, @kaguyamadoka, and @sandyferal - seriously go check them out, they’re all amazingly talented and creative people!

Unfortunately, I can’t draw like they can, but I like designing outfits and creating characters and writing, so I made some outfits and bios for my own versions of the Friendly Four that I’ll be writing stories for soon. Bios are below the cut, I hope you guys like them.

Megavolt

Appearance: Being inspired by superheroes in comic books, Megavolt decided he wanted to look like the classic hero that anyone could look up to. The lightning bolts and spark-stars on his outfit are reflective, so they catch the light when he uses his powers. The belt around his waist is actually a cable connected to the large battery in the middle that channels power up through a secret port on his back hidden by his cape (The pockets on the back actually hold his back-up batteries for when his main one needs to recharge). He also wears elbow-length gloves that are the same color as his cape with little metal lightning bolt emblems on the back, wrap-around safety glasses to both protect his eyes from the light he constantly puts off during his attacks as well as to serve as a mask, and blue boots that match the trim of his sleeves with metal plates along the bottoms and the toes. He doesn’t wear any hats or anything, but his powers still make his hair frizzy, so he keeps it cut fairly short so it’s more manageable.

History & Personality: Elmo Sputterspark was very intelligent and always loved inventing things, especially machines that would help the world solve energy and fuel cost-related problems. Similar to the regular universe, a bullying accident with one of his machines gave him amazing electricity-based powers. He spent the day testing out his powers to learn what he could do, when, late at night, he heard screaming coming from the area of the school their prom was being held in. He rushed over and found Negaduck there, terrorizing and attacking their classmates. Elmo fought back to protect them, making sure everyone got away safely. From that moment on, he decided that he wanted to be a hero and fight injustice- especially when it came to tyrants and bullies like Negaduck.

He’s very kind and selfless, often putting the comfort and safety of others far above his own, and enjoys talking about his hobbies and studies for long periods of time with people who are willing to listen. He’s also very cautious with how he uses his powers, both because he doesn’t want to risk draining himself too much and because he is always nervous about hurting someone irreparably (happened early in his hero career and scarred him mentally- does not EVER want to do that again). He does still have memory problems, but he tries to compartmentalize everything in his life into “must remember” “should remember” and “okay not to remember” so that he won’t lose the people and things that are most important to him- namely his three partners.

Inspiration: As a kid, I loved playing with plasma balls. I always thought they were a fun way to learn about electricity and loved the colors. So, I thought it’d be cool to give Megavolt an outfit with plasma-inspired colors and lightning bolt accents.

Quackerjack

Appearance: While his costume isn’t as puffy as his regular-world counterpart’s, he makes up for it by being even more colorful! Still following a sort of clown-theme, Quackerjack’s shoes and cowl are the same style, but the shoes are pink like his belt (almost making them look like ballet slippers but darker) with a big golden bell on the top of each shoe and his cowl is yellow on his right side and blue on his left (going opposite the colors of the fabric around his waist) and still has one large bell on the end of each side. The metal baseball bat he carries is his signature weapon (though that blue pouch on his belt also holds an impressive arsenal of toys and gadgets that seems almost bottomless sometimes and he hides things like jump ropes and larger weapons under the fabric around his hips), and is painted in a diamond tessellation of his outfit’s colors all the way around. The heart-shaped piece of metal on the bat’s hilt at first looks like a magnet meant to hold the red tail-ribbon in place, but, when pressed, it activates propulsion-rockets hidden within the bat that give him extra speed and force when swinging it. Also, Quackerjack enjoys sewing and added the toy-patches on the back of his shirt himself to cover up the holes in his costume from a fight, and gladly adds patches to his teammates’ outfits when they need a repair job done.

History & Personality: Jackson Bell, CEO and founder of Quackerjack Toys, was a well-respected businessman and beloved figure to many for years- he was a community activist, ran many notable charities, and even helped establish several orphanages and children’s hospitals using the proceeds from his company. Unfortunately, when Negaduck’s rule began, he was one of the prominent figureheads in the city that openly spoke out against him. To get him out of the way, Negaduck struck a deal with one the toy company’s biggest competitors and the two managed to frame the CEO for a crime he didn’t commit, locking him away for years and dissolving his company. Jack went a bit crazy in prison, constantly trying to find the brighter side of things, even when one wasn’t really there. At one point he entered a prison-penpal program and met a girl he became very close to- they even started living together when Jack was released from prison. His then-girlfriend helped Jack get his life back in order and helped him find his confidence and sanity again, inspiring him to go out and help others like she helped him. Unfortunately, some rather dark facts about his girlfriend came to light and the two broke up, but Jack still holds out hope that one day they can work things out and she can find a way to be a part of his life again alongside his three new partners.

There are two sides to the toy-loving ex-businessman. When he wears his cowl and hero outfit, Quackerjack is a bright and bubbly individual that loves making puns and laughing about all sorts of things. Outside of the costume, though, Jack is a surprisingly mellow guy with an almost monotone speech pattern- he’ll still crack jokes, but they’ll be said with more sarcasm and dead-pan humor that’ll often make people do a double-take to make sure they heard him right. Despite the glaring differences in his personality, at his core Quackerjack is a very compassionate person that wants to help anyone that seems frightened, lonely, sad, or lost (in any sense of the word). He’s very open and vocal about his feelings, often wearing his heart on his sleeve to varying degrees depending on what state of mind he’s in at the moment.

Inspiration: I went to an art school from 6th-12th grade where I was a theater and musical theater major. During that time, I studied Commedia dell'arte, an early form of Italian theater, and learned about the Harlequin clown character. I decided to base Quackerjack’s outfit off of the classical theater clown’s bright color scheme and more stream-lined clothing style.

Bushroot

Appearance: Similar to how his regular-world counterpart fused with a plant, Dr.Reginald Bushroot in this world infused himself with a  Solanum carolinense. The viney nature of the plant gave him a slightly different appearance with thorn-covered vine-arms, three slightly-pointed oblong leaves for each hand (two longer ones and one shorter one to act as a thumb), an upper body covered in fine hairs that make his green torso a bit fuzzier, legs made of woven vine-roots that he can disassemble and reassemble at will to help him climb objects, and a purple flower on his head like the plant he fused with (one large petal curls downward and covers half of his face like a long set of bangs, the back two petals stick up parallel to the top of his head, and the middle two are halfway between the two levels of elevation, along with a few smaller yellow petals that stick straight up to cover the top of his head in the middle of the larger petals). The jacket he wears was actually a gift hand-sewn by Quackerjack- the sleeves have extra-thick padding so Bushroot doesn’t accidentally stab anyone with his arms and the flower-patch sewn into the back was meant to be a parody of the flower on his head. Bushroot won’t say it out loud, but he really loves that jacket and refuses to take it off unless absolutely necessary, so he often wears it completely unbuttoned to stay cool unless he’s trying to blend in with a crowd.

History & Personality: Dr.Reginald Bushroot was a brilliant botanist at the local university, always striving to make the next big discovery that would improve the lives of those around him. Living in a town run by Negaduck, however, made conducting his research even harder legally, and he was forced to quit his job at the institute to avoid getting his coworkers fired as well. With nothing else to lose, Bushroot experimented on himself in a fit of self-destructive behavior and ended up as a plant-duck mutant. He excitedly showed the results of his research to his former coworkers, only for them to sell him out to Negaduck to save their own jobs (and lives). Barely escaping Negaduck’s clutches, Bushroot grew bitter towards humanity and decided to live away from everyone in the solitary safe-haven of his greenhouse on the outskirts of town where he could be hidden away in the woods.

At first glance, Bushroot seems like a cynical nihilist that hates being around people in any capacity. After opening up to Quackerjack and Megavolt, though, it turns out that he’s really just lonely and tired of being emotionally trampled on by society just for trying to be a good person. With their encouragement, he decides to try helping humanity again as part of their team, though he still maintains that he doesn’t really care what happens to the world. He’s actually a pretty big tsundere and has trouble admitting that he likes (or loves) anyone/anything in his life, but his actions always speak louder than his words and he shows he cares for his partners in little ways like making flowers grow around their rooms and bugging them to take care of themselves when they’re working too hard.

Influence: I actually live in the Carolina’s, where solanum carolinense (otherwise known as Carolina Horsenettle) grows and thought it would be a cool plant for Bushroot to fuse with. Those weeds are nightmares to deal with: The thorns hurt like heck to grab, even with gloves, but you NEED the gloves because the toxins in the thorns make the wounds hurt worse and can even get them infected if you’re not careful. They’re also very tough to pull out because of their strong roots and, worst of all, they grow fruit that looks JUST LIKE tomatoes. That last part may not sound so bad, but, down here, wild tomatoes can occasionally sprout up and kids and pets love them as snacks, and Carolina Horesenettles are actually members of the DEADLY NIGHTSHADE family, so their fruit can be LETHAL. It’s a pretty but deadly plant and really quite fascinating to study.

Liquidator

Appearance: Bud Flood in the negaverse is quite a bit shyer than his regular-world version, so he actually changes the water around his body to look like he’s wearing clothes to feel more confidant. The outfit is similar to what he wore before his mutation, except back then it was black and white with a long-sleeved white shirt beneath the button-up vest and he had shoes instead of a big puddle at the ends of his legs. He can change the hue of his “clothes” by messing with their chemical composition (like how he can turn water hard or move pollutants around in it). The metal accents such as his buttons and belt buckle are actually small bits of ice that he allows to float in place along his body, but he can quickly melt and dissolve them at a moments notice when his body needs to change and reform them instantly when his body returns to its normal state. Also, the bow around his neck is actually a ruffled cravat tied into a bow and the water ripples along it to make little waves at the ends of the bow’s ties.

History & Personality: Along with Jackson Bell, Buddy Flood was one of the other influential figureheads that opposed Negaduck, though he was far less vocal about it. Still, Buddy cared about peoples’ health and well-being and used proceeds from his company to open non-profit free clinics and hospitals as well as soup kitchens for the poor so people could always have access to fresh water and food when they needed it because, sadly, most of the town’s water sources had become polluted, meaning that many people had trouble finding sustenance that wasn’t pre-packaged/bottled. Negaduck grew irritated at Buddy’s continued meddling in his plans to ruin the city so, to get him out of the way, he called in a fake warning that someone was going to poison his company’s water supply. Buddy went with a few guards and officers to investigate, but, when they saw who it was poisoning the water, they all ran away and left Buddy alone. Negaduck caught him and threw him into the contaminated water in hopes of killing him- he even tied weights to his legs to make sure he’d sink. While he didn’t die and instead became a water-based mutant, the incident left Buddy quite scared to face people directly for a while.

Although he is extremely shy and anxious when dealing with other people, Liquidator swallows down his nerves for the sake of helping others in need. As a sort of coping mechanism, Liquidator goes into “salesman mode” when talking to people he doesn’t know or just when he feels nervous in general- by pretending everything he says is for the sake of pitching a sale to someone, Liquidator feels less nervous and is able to get through a sentence without the stuttering that would normally accompany his words. In a way, his manner of speaking serves as a great indicator for how he feels about other people: If he can talk to you like a normal person then he feels comfortable around you, but if he can talk to you like that AND not stutter at all then you’re probably one of his three partners and he loves you with all his heart.

Influence: I honestly just liked the idea of having Liquidator create his own clothes out of water since he seems to know so much about changing its properties and chemical make-up. I feel like in this world, the flow of his water would go upwards from the base of water at his feet rather than the other way around, which is why his pants are darker than his vest- giving him a reverse waterfall effect.