#on why a dead egg was hanging around but all of theirs are missing

[nameless-network]

i know the potential misclick duo qsmp stream is more than likely just gonna be slime and mariana messing around on the server but the possibility of codeflippa lore/content has me like

[cheonjeolmi]

Walmart Date (Modern AU)

Pairing: Hange x F! Reader

Warnings: None ( except for some tooth-rotting fluff ) 

Request?: Not requested, though my requests are open so feel free to send!

A/N: just some desperately needed Hange fluff !! Sorry for any grammar or formatting errors as its been a while since I used tumblr. In any case please enjoy the story, and follow me on twitter for writing related updates @_thexaus !

“Y/N!! Come on, come on! Let’s goo” Hange exclaimed as they couldn’t help but pace back and forth around their shared room. 

“Babe, it’s still way too early for you to be this hyper.” you groaned.

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so excited!” They giggled and brought their arms around you, wrapping you in a hug.

“We’re going to Walmart to buy some groceries and other things, why exactly are you excited?” You asked as you returned their hug.

“Yeah, but we’re still spending time together! We’re going on a Walmart date!” she continued, “plus, I’ve missed you. We’ve both been busy with work. But now that it’s our day-off, we can have our date!” Hange smiled and pressed a light kiss to your forehead, face heating up in embarrassment from the sudden kiss. 

“Aww, you’re so cute when you blush! It makes me want to kiss you even more” they swooned, peppering you with kisses, before kissing your nose then touching it afterward. “Boop!” They chuckled at your reaction. “I love you, Y/N”

“I love you too, Hange” The two of you wrapped around each other, with you listening to their heartbeat. The brown-haired scientist pulled away, retracting their arms from you

“Okay, the last one to the car is a rotten egg!” Hange laughed as they bolted towards the door, leaving you in their trail very confused

“What..?”

“Haha, rotten egg!” they said as they kept boasting about their victory. (Y/N) glared at them

“It’s not fair! I wasn’t ready and you tried to trip me at some point. Also, if I had known we were doing that, you would definitely be saying otherwise right now.” you accused your brown-haired partner

“Whatever, you’re just mad that I won” Hange turned to you with a smug smirk before sticking her tongue out, you scoffed and walked a bit further from them, deciding to playfully ignore them.

“Babe, I did what I have to do and I won so that’s all that matters,” they boasted once more, noticing you walk further from them, they let out a laugh “Are you seriously gonna ignore me?” 

You didn’t respond. Instead, you walked even further from them, creating a bigger distance than before. “Okay fine, be that way then. I’m gonna ignore you too! A taste of your own medicine, if you will.” They sighed, crossing their arms, stomping toward the Walmart in front of you both.

Although that didn’t last long since once you both entered the store, they turned to you with tears starting to form in the corner of their eyes. “Y/N!! Please don’t be mad at me anymore, I’m sorry! There, are you happy!? You’re not the rotten egg, I am!” they whined, begging for your attention in the process.

When they saw you turn toward them, their smile grew but immediately dropped when you gave them a smug look, loving the way they were acting now.

“Torture! This is torture, Y/N! Why are you torturing your cute and precious partner named Hange aka the love of your life?! I thought you loved meee..” they whined, as other people began to give you both weird looks.

“Oh my god, Hange! I forgive you. Now, be quiet before we get kicked out!” you said as they immediately brought you into a hug kissing your cheek,

“Yay, Y/N loves me!” Hange sang in delight as they dragged you along the store “So what are we going to buy?” they hummed, walking beside you. “Oh no, I forgot to make a list,” a small frown came across your face. 

“Well anyway, snacks, drinks, and ingredients for dinner. Did you wanna look around to buy something?” Y/N said turning to Hange smiling as they nodded “Okay great! We’ll meet up later, yeah?” After which they both went their separate ways.

Hange skipped around the store holding a basket filled with sweets, and a worrying amount of Red Bull. Once they finished going around getting everything they wanted, the brown-haired scientist stopped and froze in fear 

“Oh no…” Hange had gotten lost in the big store and was completely without their girlfriend and now, proceeded to exaggerate their situation, thinking of all the things that were unlikely to happen. Were they overreacting? Yes, but they believed you could never be too sure.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no no no. I have to find Y/N! Oh, I can call her-!” fishing for their phone, only to see that it was dead. “Oh come on! The day I forget to charge is the day I get lost. What are the odds.” they sighed in defeat but soon perked up, thinking of the perfect idea to get them out of this predicament.

“Calling Ms. Y/N L/N, please head down to register 5. Again, can Ms. Y/N L/N, please head down to register 5. Thank you.” The store speaker rang out  as you head over there to see what was wrong, there you saw Hange sitting down on the bench, pouting while swinging their legs back and forth.

You compared the sight to that of a child who lost their mother, which to be fair was sort of your situation right now. Hange then looked up and saw you come closer, making their pout turn to a wide grin, soon enough they ran up to you and hugged you tightly.

“Y/N!! You’re here! And you’re alive!!” Hange practically screamed as they were now reassured and weren’t alone by themselves anymore.

"Hange, what-? Of course, I'm alive...Now, start talking.” your gaze hardened against their brown eyes, they gulped from the tension and simply nodded.

“First, why’d you ask them to call me here? Second of all, why didn’t you just text or call me?” They rubbed a hand on their nape, clearly nervous as you seemed like a mother scolding their child, which was also very much true.

“Well, I um..got lost...second, my phone was dead. Also, while waiting for you, I talked with the lady at the register! Her name was Flora! What a nice fellow she was..” Hange smiled, recalling the small conversation they had, whilst waiting for Y/N to arrive at the register.

“Hi, I’m Hange!”

“Nice to meet you, Hange. I’m Flora,” “So, this Y/N person is your..girlfriend?” Hange nodded

“Ah, yes she is! Very lovely, kind, helpful, friendly, and she’s just so great!”

“Aw, that’s sweet. You must love her a lot” the kind woman said and Hange could only nod, thinking about all the things she loved about you.

“I’m gonna marry her one day. I don’t know when or where, but if I’m with her that’s all that matters'' the brown-haired scientist sighed dreamily, as they began to imagine what married life would be like with you.

“I was exactly like you once with my wife, when we’d still been dating. Her name’s Evie and now we’re married! 10 years and counting!” “Let me tell you, waking up to her every day is a dream and even after 10 years it never gets old. I’m sure it’ll be the same for you both” Hange smiled and thanked the kind woman at the register.

“Hange? Helloo? Earth to Hange?” you waved your hand against her face, which seemed to break them out of their daze and smile at you. “Oh, sorry Y/N! Were you done paying for everything?” they asked and you nodded “Oh shoot, I forgot something!”

“Oh? What did you forget? We’re not in a rush so we could go look for it” your eyes lit up in mischief “No no, it’s not that. It’s just that,” moving forward to get your head start “the last one to the car is a rotten egg!” you exclaimed, giggling as you bolted out the door, leaving Hange in the same state you had been in before. 

“Huh..? HUH!!? HEY WAIT!! THAT’S NOT FAIR Y/N!” they shouted as they ran after you, which didn’t take long. Hange caught you in their arms around your waist trapping you within the confines of their body, their chest pressing against your back. 

You moved around their hold, both of you admiring each other's features as the two of you smiled like idiots. “Hey you” they smiled, “Hey yourself” Y/N replied, snuggling closer towards the scientist.

Suddenly the air between you changed, a visible sense of longing present, “Y/N..” Hange began to slowly lean towards you, you began to do the same as your lips brush against each other, their hands move to cup your face, the kiss feeling like all the good things you could name.

Fireworks. Butterflies. Electricity.

Everything in that moment felt right and you both knew that. “Hange” you moaned into her lips as the two of you broke apart for air, which didn't last long as your lips were back on theirs. The taste and feel of their lips on yours, their scent of warm vanilla with a slight hint of earthiness to it filled through your nostrils. 

Everything about them was addicting, and it was frightening how you were willing to sacrifice a lot to be with them-- or to feel the rush of excitement, danger, adrenaline, and warmth which coursed through your veins whenever you were with Hange.

For a few seconds, everything around you was still. You feel every little detail and it's simply beautiful. It’s only but the two of you and it's unlike anything you’ve ever experienced and oh how you wished this moment could last forever.

As the two of you parted, yours and Hange's foreheads pressed against each other gently with the two of you smiling like idiots in love.

“Y/N, stay with me forever please” “Hange..I'd only ever want to stay with you anyway” they smiled once again and placed soft kisses along your face, from your forehead to your nose, and from your cheeks to your jawline bringing their lips to the shell of your ear with Hange softly nibbling on it,

“Hange-” you moaned at the action and they smirked at the way your voice slightly broke. “And another thing, I win, rotten egg.” Hange pulled back to look at your shocked expression and smiled. Admittedly, you had forgotten about the silly race as memories of the kiss you shared not too long ago, filled every space in your mind.

The coffee-haired scientist raced over to where you parked the car and you couldn't help but smile seeing their tall energetic figure make a beeline to the car, with you walking a few steps behind them accepting your defeat. God, you loved Hange so much and you knew that they loved you too, if not more.

But no matter how many times Hange had told you they loved you, you always felt comfort in knowing that, smiling once again for what seemed to be the millionth time that night.

'You're going to be the death of me, Hange Zoe.'

[poliel]

Surprise Egg: 8/13: Eggabell

Unsurprisingly striding back into town with Eggabell caused a commotion. Not even five minutes passed between her walking into town and everyone gathering to speak to her. There were many questions about Lizbert and what had happened to her all of which Eggabell deftly avoided and then quickly stopped via stating her reason for returning being to examine the egg more properly.

Apparently, it was Gramble’s turn to pouch it. He happily rushed over to give it to her. Buddy turned to leave. Since they were still stuck here they might as well go hunting for everyone and search more for the Snaxsquatch too while they were out. Before they could even pick which direction to head out in though…

“Hey Buddy,” Filbo said as he came up next to them, linking an arm through theirs. “It’s been a little while since we spent an evening together, you want to hang out?”

“You just want me to stick around so Eggebell can examine me before going back to Frosted Peak, right?”

“Huh? No. She only said she’d do that if you let her. I just want to hang out because it’s been a little while and I’ve missed you.” His faux innocence was cute and honestly would’ve been convincing if they didn’t know better due to the fact they’d just spent almost the whole day together climbing the mountain then coming back down. Not to mention this was the same tactic he often tried to pull when he wanted them to take another break once outright asking had started to fail. And like every other time he would either drop it with a sad sigh if Buddy persisted or would push the issue until one of them gave up.

Buddy sighed. “Fine.” The attempt at opening the stone doors failing meant that they had stuff they needed to catch up on in their journal anyway. … And they were tired. No amount of rest really made them less tired so there was no point in it a lot of the time but if it made Filbo happy then they’d put up with it. And they liked spending time with him too so why not?

~

“The egg’s underdeveloped,” Eggabell said as she poked her head into the hut after not evening bothering to knock before opening the door. “I don’t have the tools to determine anything more than that but I don’t think it’s fatally so, no thanks to a certain someone trying to give themself hypothermia and frostbite while carrying it.” She gave Buddy a pointed glare which was undeservedbecause they hadn’t known and hadn’t been trying to give themself anything of the sort. “The grumpling’s going to hatch small and probably weak too but with proper care I think they should be all right. But you guys aren’t in charge of it so that’s really all you probably want to know, right?”

“Yeah, thanks for telling us. Now uh….” Filbo trailed off.

“You want me to do Buddy?” She looked at them again. She’d already made it clear on multiple occasions that she was concerned about them but, like with her previous attempts to get them to do or not do something, if they refused she’d probably go back to looking for Lizbert without much of a fight. But…

“Fine.” With a sigh, Buddy flipped their doodling journal closed and extricated themself from the bed and cuddling into Filbo’s side. “But make it quick.”

“I intend to.”

~

Doctor visits and examinations were always the worst with the ice-cold stethoscope and all the prodding and the poking. Not to mention the invasive questions and ‘how would you rate your pain/discomfort?’s. There were two bright sides here though; she didn’t poke them with any needles and she had a salve to put over their various burns, making those spots at least feel better almost instantly – if they’d known such a thing was in her medical bag, they’d have stolen it long ago as they’d be doing from here on out.

“You’re malnourished and not recovered from giving birth in such a state,” she declared after what felt like forever.

They hopped off her makeshift examine table set up in the front part of her and Lizbert’s hut. “Shocking. I never would’ve guessed.”

She frowned at them. “I don’t know what your hang up is about not eating bugsnax but I suggest you let it go for the sake of your health.”

They’d have gladly given up their initial hang ups with it if they could. “I can’t. I’m allergic.”

“Oh! Uh… that’s really bad. How allergic are you exactly? If it’s just a mild rash or something it might be worth it to just suffer through it at this point.”

True and if that was the case they’d have done so long before now but… “I ate one and then spent the next few hours in outhouse.”

“Oh hmmm… definitely don’t then because in your state you could easily die from that.”

Buddy had not even considered that. All the more reason not to partake because that was not how they were going to die if they could help it.

Eggabell sighed before continuing. “You should probably go home then. Bring Gramble and Shelda with you too if you can. I know Gramble’s not going to want to go and probably neither is Shelda but…”

“No. I’m not leaving until I’ve interviewed Lizbert or we find solid proof she’s dead.” That made Eggabell flinch but Buddy didn’t care enough to apologize. “So not until we open the stone doors.” They’d find Lizbert, her remains, or no sign of her which would likely mean her body was buried in snow somewhere on the mountain.

With that said, Buddy turned to go. If they got out fast enough, they might even be able to leave town without Filbo noticing and trying to guilt trip them into resting for the rest of the day. Before they could do much more than open the door though…

“You know, you’re a lot like Liz.”

Pausing with their paw still on the doorknob, Buddy looked back her. “What do you mean?”

“Stubborn and passionate with a high tolerance for pain and discomfort but most of all stupid. You don’t ever pause to think about how being reckless and hurting yourself affects the people who care about you. Except you’re even worse about it than Liz ever was. Your body’s going to quit on you if you keep this up for much longer. You could die.” She’d started speaking in a calm tone but ended making exasperated gesture towards them.

“Well then, all the more reason to get those doors open as soon as possible.” Because they weren’tleaving until their story was done, they could hold on for that long at least. Speaking of opening the doors though… “You should ask Triffany for help with the stone door puzzle. She’s good at that kind of stuff.” They’d suggested going to her for help to Eggabell once before and got a vehement ‘no’ but the situation was a bit different now so…

Eggabell glared at them, doubtless mad about the change of subject but ultimately sighed – no matter what, she still cared most about finding Lizbert and that was easy to exploit. “No, I… I can figure it out myself.”

“Now who’s being stubborn?”

“I uh… you’re right. I’ll ask her. But you…” she walked up to them to poke them lightly in the chest, “need to go rest, okay? Until the stone doors are open you need to be sitting around doing as little physical actively as possible, got it?”

“Got it.”

She held her stern gaze on them for a couple seconds longer before they turned away and led the way back outside.

Buddy stood and watched as she headed for the research tent where Triffany could be seen working on something. As soon as Eggabell reached it without looking back at them, they glanced over at the freshly lit campfire. Filbo was there but he didn’t seem to have noticed Buddy coming out with Eggabell. He was distracted talking to Wambus and Chandlo. It was the perfect opportunity to slip away.

So, after sneaking over to Filbo’s hut to retrieve their pack they were headed off for the Scorched Gorge and Sizzling Sands. If they were lucky maybe they would actually find the Snaxsqautch this time and then return to learn that key to opening the doors had been found. Meaning they would be able to finish their story and finally go home and eat real food again. They could only dream.

***

Buddy slipping off unnoticed and without saying goodbye while Filbo had been distracted from waiting for them was not the least bit surprising at this point and he should’ve been on the lookout for such an attempt. But that didn’t make it any less disappointing or worrying especially after interrupting Eggabell and Triffany to ask for Eggabell’s general assessment of their condition. They should be resting and taking it easy as much as possible but instead they were off doing who knows what?

And there wasn’t a single thing Filbo could do about it. He didn’t even know where they’d gone, making going after them hard even if he’d stood much of a chance of convincing them to come back and rest – once they were out of town there was no getting them to come back until they wanted to. So he just put on a positive attitude and went on his rounds around town, a lot later than usual because he’d spent the bulk of the day climbing up and then back down Frosted Peak but whatever. He checked up on Floofty to make sure they were okay after the whole almost cutting their head off for science thing a few weeks ago. And Wambus and his garden. Gramble’s ranch and everyone else with their various things they were doing or working on. He inquired after the egg too of course. He still felt a bit weird about how it was biologically his but the relief of not having to be in charge of it and the little life within far outweighed that feeling. Besides it seemed to make those in charge of it happy and that was good to see.

The town really was starting to knit itself back together. And even if Eggabell wasn’t going to stay for much longer she was still back for now and interacting with Triffany and some of the others again. Now all they needed was Lizbert here and everything would be back to how it was before. Or actually, better because everyone was starting to get along more than even before they’d split. Some of that was centered around those caring for the egg but it was also just in general amongst everyone. It was very good to see, filling Filbo with that fuzzy warm feeling of wanting to get everyone into a group hug or something. He wasn’t going to push it though.

It was all mostly thanks to Buddy, getting everyone back and then helping with everyone’s problems. … The only downside was that they were running themself half to death while doing so and factoring into that was them having carried the egg unknowingly for months. They were really amazing and wonderful… he was worried about them. Nothing he could do about that right now though so…

Shaking that off for now he looked up at the others gathered around the campfire which was almost everyone in town except for Eggabell and Triffany. Even Floofty and Snorpy were here even if they weren’t likely to stay long, they never did. “We should have another party,” he said, drawing everyone’s gazes to him.

“Another one, really?” Beffica said though she didn’t sound quite as scornful as she used to when questioning his ideas. Progress was being made there too!

“Yeah. Almost everyone’s back now. So I was thinking we should celebrate. It’ll be fun.” And a party would be a good way to get Buddy to rest in town a little more. It could also act as an informal farewell to them since they should and would hopefully finish their story soon, allowing them to go home. Whether Filbo was going to accept their invite and go with them, he hadn’t decided yet but he had until they were actually leaving to make that decision. “So what do you guys say?”

There was a general murmur of agreement to indifference about the idea. No one was enthusiastic about it but that was fine, once the party actually started, they would all hopefully be more into it.

“If we’re going to do this party thing,” Snorpy spoke up over everyone else. “I need some time to make some uh, special party lights for uh, partying purposes.”

“This request has to do one of your ridiculous conspiracy theories, doesn’t it?” Floofty said, giving him that look that almost always led to an argument between them.

Before he could respond and make that argument a reality, Filbo spoke up cheerfully as if he hadn’t picked up on any of that tension. “We could use some cool party lights!” If doing whatever he was going to do the lights would make him feel better about attending the party than Filbo didn’t care. “So it’d be awesome if you could make some special ones for us. How long do you think that’ll take?”

Floofty rolled their eyes but didn’t say anything. Snorpy looked nervously their way for a couple seconds before looking back at Filbo – argument successfully averted, thank goodness! “A few days should do, no more than a week for sure.”

“Awesome! Let me know when you’re done and I’ll start setting everything up.” And maybe he could get Buddy to help with that too. While it wasn’t proper rest it would still be far more restful than running around after bugsnax and the Snaxsqautch had to be so it’d be worth to ask them.

[linkspooky]

Frankenstein and the Monster

So there is loads of speculation on a connection between Dabi and Frankenstein’s monster. There are several people who have already commented on it, here, here, and even here. (These are all the ones I could dig up recently). Frankenstein is a novel that can be read in many ways, but I believe the themes of the novel parallels and helps illustrate the relationship between Ujiko, Endeavor and Dabi.

1. Endeavor and Victor Frankenstein

To very briefly touch upon the novel for those who haven’t read it, there are several differences between Boris Karloff’s movie depiction and the original novel. In the novel the creature is intelligent, well spoken, and a reflection of the Doctor Frankenstein himself. To summarize quickly, Frankenstein a very dramatic undergrad student discovers the secret to reviving the dead, uses that to create a monster, then upon seeing how ugly it is flees. The monster grows up in isolation, is spurned by every human he comes across, and then returns to his master and says he will kill everyone the Doctor Loves unless he creates him a mate. Frankenstein destroys the mate, and then the monster destroys his wife to be on the night of their wedding then they chase each other around in the arctic until both of them die. If that wasn’t a sufficient enough summary, this crash course video is a good writeup of the book and it’s themes. 

Frankenstein has a lot to say about science and treading in god’s domain, but it’s also written by a woman who was a teenager at the time (Mary Shelley) who existed in a soical circle of adult men who were much older than her. Just as much as it’s a novel about mad science gone wrong, there are strong themes of feminism, parenthood, and abuse intertwined in the novel. 

Another popular reading is to interpret “Frankenstein” autobigraophically, a reading that was encouraged via 1970s feminist criticism of the novel. Earlier readings along those lines centered Frankenstein as a tale of monstrous birth and look to Mary Shelley’s own experiences with birth, which were pretty terrible.

Mary Shelley’s mother died when giving birth to her, and Mary and Shelley’s own first child, a daughter, died when she was just a few weeks old. And in her journal Mary recounted an incredibly sad dream about this daughter. “Dream that my little baby came to life again; that it had only been cold and that we rubbed it before the fire and lived.”  [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

This is just some background information to add context to your reading. Percey Shelley first met Mary when she was 14, and eloped with her when she was 16 and already pregnant with his child (he was around 24 at the time). Not only that but Percey was married at the time when he eloped with Mary, and his wirst wife did not take it well. 

Harriet (Westbrook) Shelley was Percy Shelley's first wife. While he was still married to her, he ran off with Mary Shelley, leaving Harriet pregnant and alone with their first child. She committed suicide on November 9, 1816 by drowning herself in Serpentine. [x]

As I said these details are all to add context to Mary Shelley’s life while she was writing Frankenstein. A book in which most of the female characters are severely mistreated and harmed. 

There are some pretty feminist critiques to Frankenstein. For instance, the novel clearly shows what harm comes to women (and family and relationships) when men pursue single-minded goals. In fact thanks to Victor’s lack of work life balance pretty much all of the women in this novel die. Victor’s creation of the monster leads to the hanging of the servant Justine the murder of Victor’s bride Elizabeth on their wedding night. [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

To put it as frankly as possible (Haha, get it because frankenstein) there are several points in the novel in which both Victor and Frankenstein act like fuckboys. 

You could easily read the story as one of male entitlement. Victor in the first place, deliberately refers to his bride to be Elizabeth as a possession and says it as a term of affection. 

And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.

His actions towards Elizabeth in the novel are also, extremely neglectful. Elizabeth spends the novel passively waiting for him to return and marry her, but Victor has a habit of disappearing from her life for long periods at a time with no contact at all in pursuit of his endeavors. (Get it because I’m comparing Victor to Endeavor). 

Elizabeth is someone he feels entitled to own, and entitled to her love (he literally thinks his parents gave him to her) and yet Victor never takes responsibility for Elizabeth and her feelings too wrapped up in his own. When Elizabeth is grieving for the losses of her family, Victor has a tendency to leave her alone to go off to sulk on his own. Elizabeth even pleads multiple times for Victor to come home, to offer some support for the rest of the family with his mere presence and Victor delays these returns home as long as possible. 

“Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home and friends who love you dearly. Your father’s health is vigorous, and he asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance.

This treatment also extends to the rest of Victor’s family, who are people he seriously neglects throughout the novel, and also people who are the direct sufferers of the consequences of his actions. His youngest brother is killed, the maid is framed for the murder, Elizabeth dies on the wedding night, Clerval his closest friend is killed, and his father dies soon afterwards of old age / implied grief. 

The monster who Victor creates is also a reflection of him. After knowing the suffering it is to be created as a creature with no family, and no place of belonging he then instructs Victor to make him a woman. A woman that will have no choice but to love him because they will be the only two alone in the world. The monster, also feels entitled to feminine love because he is lonely, with no thought to whether or not the second monster might have feelings, opinions or her own, or might not even like him. 

“You must create a female for me, with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being.  This you alone can do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse.” 

The recurring theme is this: a sense of male entitlement, without a sense of responsibility. What do I mean by Male Entitlement? 

Male entitlement is a product of traditional societal norms. It is cultivated in men as they join a society which usually favors them over the other genders in their careers, relationships, character-standing, and more.   There’s more on it here, and the role of male entitlement in abuse. 

Male entitlement is an attitude where men believe they are entitled to power over others, and/ or ownership of the women and children in their lives. Victor calls Elizabeth a possession given to him, and neglects her throughout most of the book. The monster believes he deserves to have a woman to love him. It’s not masculinity. Masculinity is just masculinity. It’s the belief that they are entitled to power or ownership over others simply because they are men born in a society that favors men. Male entitlement can show up in say, a father who believes he is entitled to the love of his children despite never doing any of the actual work of childrearing and pushing it all on the mother. Believing they deserved to be loved simply for being a father, while being absolutely absent for their lives. GUESS WHAT HAPPENS IN FRANKENSTEIN. 

So, a lot of people interpret Frankenstein as a story of ambition gone wrong, but that interpretation feels like it’s missing something if you don’t include the feminist angle. Frankenstein when doing his mad scientist undergrad bit speculates how he would be a father of a new species. It is specifically, fatherhood accomplished without a mother. That this new species would owe him love. 

A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. 

An undeniable part of Victor’s motivation is that as the sole creator the child would owe him all of their love. I mean to once again connect this to abuse narratives how many real life parents believe their children have to love them no matter how poorly they treat them? 

No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs. 

Victor in the novel wants not only fatherhood, but also motherhood. He wants to create life which in victorian society at the time is the role of the woman. And yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to do any of the actual work of motherhood and the roles typically described to women. 

We can read the novel as an exploration of what happens when men fear, distrust, or devalue women so much that they attempt to reeproduce without them. In some ways Victor is trying to bypass the feminine altogether. He’s creating life without recourse to egg or womb.  [Crash Course: Frankenstein] 

Victor creates, and then proceeds to take no responsibility for his creation. He abandons the child for the most shallow of reasons (because it was ugly and looked scary), then leaves a sentient, thinking creature with no idea who it was, or why it was alive in the middle of the mountains hoping it starves to death on his own so he doesn’t have to deal with it. 

but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber.

Victor is the creatures parent, but takes no responsibility as a parent for raising the creature. In fact the child is punished when they are still an innocent, just for not turning out the way their creator intended. 

Frankenstein is a novel which portrays consistently men who aspire to greatness as described in their society (scientific invention, and in the framing device arctic exploration) but who consistently fail everyone in their lives at the most basic levels. In other words as Lizzo said, “Why men great, till they gotta be great.” 

This is where the fire comes in. The original post talks about dichotomy of fire as something that both helps and harms. Fire is a symbol in this book that can be read two different ways, and I think special context should be given to the subtitle of the story. “The Modern Prometheus”, a story which in classical times is a story of hubris where Prometheus steals fire from the heavens and is punished for it. Hubris in the classical greek sense means that a human acting like they know better than the gods. However, the story has a different interpretation in the Romantic / Enlightenment era where Prometheus is seen as a heroic figure stealing fire away from the gods to give knowledge to mankind. 

Fire in the book represents both. Victor is someone who has hubris, he assumes he’s a father who deserves the love of a child and sole responsbility for the creation of another being (effectively making him god), but abandons the creature literally five minutes after finishing him and makes no real attempt to take any effort in raising what is effectively his child. It’s also a story about Victor having ambitions to be great, and to do what no man has done before him. I don’t think the story emphasizes that ambitions are bad, but rather the dual nature of ambition as something like fire, something that can either warm or harm. 

He came upon a fire “which had been left” by humans (Vol. II, Ch. III), so a human tool left in nature. He was “overcome with delight” and joy, but touching it brought him pain. “How strange, [he thinks], that the same cause could produce such opposite effects!” He has learned the dichotomy of flame – to save and to hurt. [x]

Okay, now that we’re done witht hat extremely long essay on an english novel let’s actually talk about the manga where a goth stuck in his rebellious teenage phase tries to light his dad on fire. 

I’m going to be comparing the novel to Dabi and Endeavor in two aspects. 

Male entitlement, believing you deserve the love of a child without acting responsibly as a father. 

Fire, ambition as something that both helps and burns. 

Victor and Endeavor both are characters that decide to create children for very self serving reasons, and treat their families for the majority of their lives as tools to their own ambition. Endeavor wants a child that will carry out his ambitions for him, that he can live vicariously through. It’s not even an interpretation it’s directly stated text. 

Endeavor’s mad science also literally has him treat the woman in his life as tools to use for his own amibition. He fores a marriage on a woman to use her as an unwilling accessory to his eugenics project. 

It is not specifically a story of ambition got wrong, it’s also a story of neglect and abuse of all the women in his life. Endeavor’s ambitions all center around personal greatness for him. Shoto will prove his worth as a hero, as a mentor to him, as a great father. The fact that his motives are entirely selfish, (Endeavor is not focused on being the best hero he can be, but rather his own desire to be the strongest) is something that has an affect on his family and children. 

Fuyumi, Touya, and Natsuo are literally afterthoughts to Endeavor despite being just as much his children as Shoto. He literally only thinks of Rei in the context of “I needed her to give me a family.” Not only that but he’s also an extremely bad father to the one child that he does take an active role in trying to parent, acting extremely controlling towards Shoto and getting extremely angry whenever Shoto did anything that was outside of Endeavor’s wishes for Shoto to fulfill his ambitions. 

Endeavor just like Victor, inspires to greatness as a man and wants the signifiers of that as held up by society, accomplishment (Endeavor wants to be the number one rank even though he technically has far more resolved cases than All Might and the rank is literally just a number), family, and recognition despite having done none of the work. Once again why men great till they gotta be great. At the start of his arc, Endeavor feels entitled to Shoto’s love and obedience, and a role in his life, despite the fact that he’s hideously abused him for most of his life. 

Endeavor like Victor, also abandons several children for failing to meet his expectations. 

Part of Natsuo’s problem with Endeavor has exactly to do this sense of entitlement, Endeavor practically abandons his kids until they’re in their  early twenties to the point where he wasn’t involved in their lives at all (and also separated them from their mother). Remember another point of the book is that Victor wants sole parenthood, to create life without involvement of a woman. 

Endeavor does the exact same thing. He separates the children from their mother. Then while he is the only parent left in the household and effectively responsible for all of his children, he neglects most of them and completely fails to raise them. 

It’s implied besides trying to teach Shoto to use his quirk, he’s literally pushed all of the housework, and actual parenting you know, labor that is involved in raising a child onto Fuyumi. Fuyumi has cooked most of Shoto’s meals, it’s Fuyumi who attends his school conference in the novels. Endeavor has effectively committed the same crime as Victor, creating life and then running away from it by failing to act in any way as the father to his own children. His sense of entitlement shows in his actions and the way he treats the people around him in his life, he uses them for his own ambitions and they get burned. 

Endeavor is someone who has used all of the women in his life for his ambitions. Think Fuyumi, she grew up desperately wanting a family while having effectively no father and all contact cut off from her mother, and also had to take care of household chores and responsibility for both of her younger brothers. Think Rei, who has literally been institutionalized for ten years, and trauma from her experiences that haunts her to this day. Natsuo is someone who has no father, almost no relationship with his younger brother, and is still mourning his other dead brother. Shoto evens tates directly, he views Endeavor as someone to learn how to use his quirk from but hasn’t viewed him once as a father. Endeavor’s never been present as a father in Shoto’s life, despite controlling most of it and giving him all of the attention. He had ambition to pass his quirk from father to son, but never actually acted as a father. 

Endeavor’s treatment of his family, and his reflection for his past actions is also shown using this metaphor for fire. All Might’s ambition to become the strongest hero for the sake of a more peaceful society, is also represented by fire. Especially a flame that he passes from one person to the next, that Nana passed to him, and he passed to Deku.  

Endeavor is almost always associated with the more violent aspect of fire, when he thinks of the harm he’s done to his family it’s always juxtaposed to the fire on his face. 

(The right side fire, the left side Rei’s suffering face.)

Whereas the more gentle associations with fire are almost made with Shoto. Once again the novel of Frankenstein doesn’t decry ambition, it merely explores the consequences of ambitions that were extremely self-interested from the start. Endeavor only wanted to be strong for his own sake. Shoto who wanted to become a hero like All Might who would never make his mother cry, and All Might who wanted to create a safer society are people with strong ambitions that are associated with gentler flames. 

2. Dabi and Frankenstein’s Monster

Sins of the Father or Sins of the Fathers derives from biblical references primarily in the books Exodus, Deuteronomy, and Numbers to the sins or iniquities of one generation passing to another. Basically what it means is its a narrative trope where children are punished or suffer consequences for the action of their fathers. It can also mean that children inevitably reflect what their fathers have done to them, and even resemble their fathers. 

Everything the monster does is a reflection of Frankentstein’s actions. Everything Dabi does is both a consequence and a reflection of Endeavor’s actions. They are both written as sons to be narrative foils to their creator. If anything Dabi is even more of a frankenstein’s monster than Shoto, because a key element to the narrative is that Frankenstein was abandoned for not being perfect according to his creator’s wishes, he was punished for a defect. 

Touya just like frankenstein is a defective creation. One who suffers all of the consequences for what are his father’s sins. Endeavor deliberately took risks with his eugenics experiment that the child might have a quirk not compatible with their body, but it’s the child and not the parent who suffers all of the consequences. Toya literally died - whether he faked his death or not has yet to be revealed but he lost his home and family at a young age, spent most of his life homeless, and has to continually make use of a quirk that burns his entire body. Whether he wants them or not, his father’s sins are pushed onto Dabi. 

The flame that Endeavor is so keen on passing to his children, has literally permanently disabled Dabi, and will negatively effect him for the rest of his life. Consequences that Endeavor ought to suffer are passed onto Dabi instead. Dabi is burned by Endeavor’s actions towards him. 

This is once again something deliberately brought up by the book Frankenstein. The doctor creates life, takes absolutely no responsibility and leaves his creature to starve to death in the wilderness, and then the first time they meet again calls upon his creation to die. 

“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life?

The decision to create life irresponsibly was Victor’s, but the  person who suffers the brunt end of the consequences is not Victor, but rather the creature itself who just like Dabi has no home, and is constistently hurt by the environment around him. 

Dabi is also a symbol of the worst possible aspects of Endeavor’s ambitions. 

To compare Victor and the monster briefly. Victor

Has family / friends 

Home / Money / Wealth

Arrogant / Well Educated 

Self-Destructive 

A tool

The Monster

Abandoned

Ignorant (at first)

Homeless

A tool, but a more sympathetic one.

As you can see they are societally complete opposites. This can be said for Endeavor as well, he still gets to keep his family, his place in society despite what he’s done, he’s wealthy, succesful and well-liked in his community. Dabi is permanently disabled because of something his father did, is legally dead, homeless, separated from his family, and is a villain. 

While they are completely opposite in status, the monster and Victor are eerily similiar. They are both highly intelligent people who carry a strong ambition within them. The Monster basically learns speech, and reading all on his own, and as soon as he can be becomes as well-read as possible. 

Fortunately the books were written in the language, the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch’s Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.

The monster also shares several of his father’s sin. He repeats the sins that have been done on to him, in the name of vengeance. Frankenstein’s claim is that he was hurt when he was still an innocent, punished before he had done anything wrong, but he also does the exact same thing to VIctor’s youngest brother killing him when he was just a child. 

Victor’s worst sin by far is selfish entitlement, forgetting to consider the feelings of his creation. Yet, the monster knowing how much he suffered by just being created in a world where there’s no one else like him also demands Victor create another creature. This is out of his own personal sense of entitlement, he believes he’s entitled to have someone love him, and if he had this he would be a good person again. 

He believes quite literally he deserves an Eve to share his loneliness in. His own personal feelings of grief and hurt matter more than those of: one the people he kills, and two a potential woman who would be created only to love him. 

But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.

The monster also feels entitled to punish Frankenstein, but in this reccuring sins of the fathers he punishes people who are completely innocent of the crime that Frankenstein did to him and have nothing to do with his creation, just to get back at Frankenstein. Including, an innocent boy, a maid who he framed for murder, Frankenstein’s friend, and also Elizabeth. 

Dabi inevitably reflects his father and the environment he was raised in, and resembles him. Dabi who was raised by a quirk supremacist and thrown out because his quirk wasn’t good enough, kills people he doesn’t find worthy. Dabi’s methods are almost entirely based around his his individual strength because he was raised to believe that was the only good part of him. The same way Dabi was thrown out like burnable trash for failing to live up to his standards, Dabi will enact harsh vigilante justice and kill minor crimminals and heroes who fail to live up to his justice. 

Just like for the monster’s actions in punishing Victor, Dabi is called to consider the feelings of family’s of the people he kills. He is also punishing people completely unrelated to what happened to him, in his efforts to hold his father accountable. 

Dabi reflects his father, and quirk society the same things that burned him. He continually believes he has to be the strongest individually, accomplish everything on his own, and spurn others around him. Even those who try to make genuine connections with him like the league of villains. Dabi believes that the world has to be changed with the strength of ambitions of a single person, and his ambitions are far more important than the sense of family within the league. 

Dabi effectively distances himself from two families, the found family of the league, and also his original biological family. Think about how much it might save Natsuo to lean that his brother is still alive. Shoto at least, doesn’t want to see his father roasted alive on live television. 

Dabi’s ambitions are as self destructive as his fathers, as he only knows how to fight by completely burning his body up. He harms himself over and over again by using his quirk to try to change things. 

3. Endeavor and Ujiko

The book ultimately poses the question who is responsible for the actions of the monster, Frankenstein or the Monster itself. However, I think an element missed in a lot of analysis is that the mosnter accepts that most of what he has done is wrong, he just wants people to be held equally accountable for their actions. 

“You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my crimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of them he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured wasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving; still I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all humankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? 

The monster’s problem is not that he shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions, but rather that he’s the only one whose ever held accountable for his actions. The Monster also spends most of the narrative being treated as a monster, whereas Frankenstein faces no real consequences for what he’s done from the people around him, never loses his standing in society, never is cast out for his wrongs. Frankenstein continually avoids any and all responsibility towards the monster up until his death, and only takes responsibility in violently trying to kill his creation. 

There are also oppurtunities for Frankenstein to take responsibility, which he chooses not to do anything. An innocent maid is about to be executed for a crime that Frankenstein knows she did not commit, and instead of trying to help her by explaining to everyone his creation of the creature, and also that the creature is likely responsible for the murder he says nothing. While not responsible for the women’s death, he is culpable in that he could have taken action to save her but didn’t. 

Franketnstein’s actions are again and again always to run away from the monster and avoid responsibility. From the beginning he runs away from the monster due to it simply being ugly. Both the monster (and also Toya) were punished when they were innocent children who had not committed any kind of crime, by the person who was responsible for raising them, educating them, and giving them everything they needed to become happy adults. 

“Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

While Frankenstein and the Monster both entitled, their reasons for entitlement come from entirely different places. Frankenstein’s comes from his own arrogance, believing that he’s destined to do great things, and be a man of status and accomplishment. Why men great till they gotta be great. 

The monster believes he’s entitled to a family, because his father abandoned him, and he’s been homeless most of his life. The monster is violent, but only after he’s endured violence from people several times over. The monster is ultimately a victim of circumstance, and Frankenstein is the one who created that circumstance. 

Considering Frankenstein and the monster are foils, there’s a reason that Frankenstein fears and abhors the monster before it’s even awake. It’s because the monster reflects the ugliness of his own actions. The ugliness in himself that he is completely unable to face. He is a negative character foil in a character sense, and a shadow created by Frankenstein’s actions. 

The monster shows Victor what he is, selfish, entitled, and violent. Victor can’t ever confront the monster, because he can never confront those flaws within himself. 

Dabi is a reflection of Endeavor’s violent, abusive nature. He is also the direct consequence of all of Endeavor’s actions. So the question is, has Endeavor confronted the monstrous side of his actions? The answer is most likely no, because despite doing things as bad as any villain in the story he still views himself as the hero.

Shoto even tells us directly. Endeavor the hero and Endeavor the father are so different they’re almost like two different people. Endeavor continuing to be a hero on the television and coming home to his family is not taking repsonsibility for his actions, not truly, because he still hasn’t accepted the worst of what he’s done. 

In the narrative Endeavor currently feels guilt, and also a desire to atone but we’re also told again and again that atoning means taking responsibility and carrying everything. No building a house where his family doesn’t have to be around him and taking steps to distance himself isn’t taking full resposnibility because Dabi is still running around. Dabi is the embodiment of the absolute worst of Endeavor’s actions, the toxic environment that literally killed Toya, burned Shoto, and hospitalized Rei. I would say Endeavor still hans’t seen the worst of his actions because he still views himself as the hero, just the hero who has made mistakes. We’re shown this in foiling, the same way Fankenstein rejects the monster, Endeavor doesn’t recognize Dabi even though he is literally his own son. 

The strongest evidence of this is Endeavor and Ujiko’s foiling. They are two characters who have a lot in common, they both used children as experiments in their attempts to create stronger quirks including their own family members (Ujiko experimented on his own nephew). 

They’re both men of incredible wealth and status in society, who have deliberately used their status to cover up their cimes. Endeavor used his status to hospitalize his wife for years, he used his status to marry her in the first place, Ujiko uses all of his money and resources to find people to experiment on, and deliberately takes advantage of people in need by using his orphanage and hospitals to farm for materials to make his Nomus with. 

They’re both motivated by their own personal ambitions. They also feel entitled, Ujiko’s specific issue is that the scientific community failed to give him the respect and funding for his research that he thought he was owed. 

The source of Endeavor’s pain is that no matter how hard he works he’ll never become the strongest. The source of Ujiko’s pain is that nobody recognizes his work and achievements in his scientific community. They both want their hard work to turn into achievement, for their efforts to pay off, which again is not a bad thing until they get angry when they’re not given what they think they’re owed. 

Ujiko and Endeavor both become so desperate to accomplish their ambitions that they manipulate people to become tools to fulfill their ambitions for them. Shoto has to carry on his legacy, and learn to use his flame side like Endeavor always wanted. They both create children that they are technically the parent of, but don’t act as fathers. Endeavor is responsible for Fuyumi, Natsuo, Touya, and Todoroki but fails to live up to that responsibility. Ujiko creates the Nomu, which just like the monster in Frankenstein are new life created from the corpses of other people, and then just uses them and disposes them as tools. 

Ujiko even utters a line that is incredibly similiar to Endeavor in the regards to the way they treat Shigaraki and Shoto. 

However how does Endeavor react to Ujiko? Does he understand the harm that he’s done in a new light? No, he falls back on his hero narrative. I am the hero, and Ujiko is the utlimate evil. 

Endeavor so far, like Frankenstein, fails to truly confront the monster. Even when he finally realizes the destructive nature of his desire to be stronger than anyone else when he fights the Nomu, his response is to burn it alive. What is Endeavor’s response? To play hero, and defeat a villain. 

The thing about jungian shadow arcs is that you don’t destroy your shadow, you reintegrated it.  Endeavor can’t symbolically murder his past self because that won’t make his past actions go away, he can only accept them. The question now is: will he do the same thing to Dabi? 

When confronted with who Dabi is and his role in creating Dabi, what will Endeavor’s choice be? Is he going to play the hero, and destroy the villain he sees in front of him. The same way he did with the Nomu, the same way he did with Ujiko, the same way he’s trying to do with Shigaraki (who is, you know a heavy parallel to his own son Toya, and another abused child).

Will Endeavor act as a hero, or the remorseful father he also is? That choice is utlimately what Endeavor’s entire character is written around, does he want to finally be a father or does he want to keep being endeavor the hero? What is more important to him his own ambitions as a hero, or the people he’s harmed? 

Just like Victor, Endeavor’s entire arc revolves around Dabi. He is a hero directly responsible for the creation of a villain. Dabi would not exist if it were not for Endeavor’s direct actions. Not only that but his future will be determined by how he chooses to interact with Dabi once he knows the truth. Endeavor cannot truly take responsibility until he takes responsibility for Dabi.

[softblushywarbunbun]

Howl (MC x Mitsuhide)

There was a white wolf.

She didn’t know when it had gotten there or where it came from. 

Something told her that it had been there since her birth, something loud and forceful, but she shook it off. 

That couldn’t be right. 

She didn’t remember it being there since the beginning- but she did. 

She remembered both. 

Why did she remember both?

How did she remember both?

She tossed and turned restlessly in her sleep, sweat beading on her face, the wolf watching victoriously from the corner. You could almost say it was smirking, but- but that was impossible. There was no way a wolf could smirk. 

The wolf was there when she woke up, there when she fell asleep. There when she went to school, there when she came home. There when she was hurt, there when she was happy. It was there all the time. She called it Asteris. She didn’t know why, she just knew that it sounded like such a pretty name, all exotic, and its eyes reminded her of the middle of aster flowers, golden and shining, watching her at all times. She also thought it might like to have two names.It had a surprising affinity for human food, able to chomp down apples and drink soup with the best of them.

It was her companion. At least, it became her companion, after a time. 

Her parents were gone. She didn’t know where they had gone, just that she had woken up one day, and they were gone. When she asked her neighbors, they said that she had always been the only person in the house. No one else lived there. No one else had lived there as long as she had lived there. They were certain of it.

Eventually she stopped asking.

There had been a boy, one time, who hadn’t taken ‘no’ very well, and who’s hands had gotten a bit free in their placement. She had kicked him away and run home crying, and the next day, he had been gone.

When she asked about him, they didn’t know who he was. They were certain that there had never been a boy like that in their town. They asked why she wanted to know, she never explained.

She hated to admit it, but she was the tiniest bit glad he was gone.

The wolf stayed even closer to her ever since then.

She went to college. 

The wolf stayed by her side.

She went on a date. 

The wolf waited patiently by the front door for her to come home, leaping on her with a joyful yelp and licking her face all over excitedly.

She got all A's and went out to celebrate.

The wolf didn’t come near her for an hour. She could almost say it was pouting.

She graduated college and went out to celebrate. 

While out celebrating, she met someone and had a one night stand.

The wolf growled at her whenever she tried to come near him for the next week.

She got a job.

The wolf insisted on coming with her every single day.

It scared off a good percent of the people who thought they knew better than her, which she appreciated greatly, scratching him behind the ears until he was panting, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

She got a promotion.

The wolf jumped around and yipped excitedly along with her.

She met someone and brought them home, then invited them to stay the night.

The wolf broke every window in the house, yet when she saw him, he didn’t have a scratch on him.

They lived many long, happy years, her wolf and her. The wolf stayed happily by her side through everything. 

She never married. The wolf wouldn’t allow it. Every time she brought home a date, the wolf broke everything it could possibly find in the house, and healed miraculously.

Every time she stayed over at a man’s house, it ran away from home for a month at the least. 

She found that she missed it, despite all it had done to sabotage her relationships.

 It had helped her, in more ways than one. It was her best friend. Everyone at her work was too weirded out by the fact that she brought a living animal into work every single day. The only creature that had stayed by her through the mysterious disappearance of her parents and anyone who bothered her, including that one boy long ago. 

So she never married. She didn’t think it was worth losing her only friend. 

She confessed this to the wolf, and it seemed to grin victoriously.

Something was nagging at her, something insistent. It was saying again and again that something was wrong, that her wolf wasn’t normal. That nothing normal could be that… that intelligent. That sometimes it seemed a bit too human. That something was very strange about how those people had disappeared right after she had confessed tearfully to the wolf how they had bothered, bullied, humiliated her. That it was strange that she could remember both her childhood with and without the wolf. That it was strange that her parents had suddenly disappeared.

She stubbornly ignored it. She refused to believe it. It just- it just wanted the best for her, that was all. If it truly was behind the disappearance of her parents, that just proved that they weren’t good enough for her. No one was. No one but the wolf. It was the wolf and her against the world. Only them.

The world would just have to deal with it.

She reached her 60th birthday, spent the night crying about how she was getting old, how her best days were behind her.

The wolf stayed by her side the entire night, licking at her cheek in reassurance and snuffling sadly.

“You’ll stay by my side, right?” she had asked it tearfully. It nodded and woofed happily.

She smiled and hugged the wolf gratefully, letting her tears fall into its soft fur.

She reached her 70th birthday, still working. People at her work had begun asking her why she wasn’t married yet. She sat through the afternoon with her head in her hands, wondering if she was really doing something wrong, if she should really try and have relationships, if she should try and meet someone. After all, a woman at work had confided in her that her mother remarried at 80, it was not like she would be doing anything strange. 

When she suggested it to the wolf, it huffed and seemed to glare at her. Then its ears drooped sadly and it trodded huffily over to the corner where it lay there, motionless, looking over at her mournfully every few seconds.

She looked at it for a second, then began to laugh, getting up and following it over to the corner.

“Oh shh, you silly creature. I would never let someone get in between us, because- let me guess, if I did find someone, you would run away?”

The wolf nodded proudly. 

 She laughed, hugging its head to her chest. “That’s exactly why I won’t.”

She reached her 80th birthday, finally retiring with a very nice nest egg saved up. She moved into a nice little cottage in the European country. The wolf traveled with her. She refused to buy a ticket unless she could buy a second one for her wolf. She didn’t want him to be in a carrier in the back. He was worth much more than her. The people at the desk simply chalked it up to an old woman’s crazy ideas, and agreed, making her pay an extra forty dollars. She didn’t mind. He was worth it. He was always worth it.

She lived a comfortable last years there, with her wolf faithfully beside her, from morning to night. She got her groceries delivered, and didn’t own a computer, phone, or any other technology. She only went out of the house to sit on the rocking chair on the front porch, smiling calmly at the surrounding wilderness. She never took up knitting, as that was when she would have to admit to herself that she had truly moved to ‘crotchety old grandmother’ status. The wolf helped get her up in the morning, licking happily at her cheeks until she groaned and batted him away, waiting loyally by her bedside until she decided to finally get up, plodding slowly through the one-story home to the kitchen, making herself and the wolf oatmeal. The wolf jumped up onto the only other seat at the kitchen table, waiting for its meal, tongue hanging out and tail wagging happily. She set his bowl down in front of him, and he greedily slurped it down, licking the bowl clean as she watched fondly.

There was one night, during the winter, where she heard all sorts of animals outside her house, right outside her bedroom window, the wolf, previously sleeping calmly at her feet, shot up, howl joining theirs, lasting long after the others had stopped. She covered her ears and cowered away from him. So loud, too loud. It hurt. 

The wolf trailed off after a while, howl fading into growls, fading into silence. The animals had gone. He turned to her happily, tail wagging until he saw her state. 

Whining sadly, he padded forward and nosed at her cheeks. She didn’t notice that she had been crying until then. She didn’t mean to, but the howl, the howl was so angry, so sad, so many emotions at once, it had overwhelmed her. The wolf lapped at the tears, whining all the while.

She forced a smile through the tears. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry, you scared me, is all.”

The wolf never howled again. Animals never came near their house ever again, except for harmless ones, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks.

 She was woken on the night before her 96th birthday, wrinkled cheeks creasing even more in a smile as she felt a long tongue lapping at her cheeks.

“Okay, okay, stop that would you, I’m awake!” she cried, laughing and pushing the wolf away. He dutifully stepped back a few paces. She sat up slowly, expecting to have to force her aching back to support her.  But- that was strange. Her back didn’t ache anymore.

 She brought her hand up to touch her cheeks. There were no wrinkles to be found. 

Looking down at her hands, she saw them, just as young as they had looked in her twenties.

She looked back down and stifled a gasp of horror.

Her body, her old body, her 95-year-old body, was lying still below her, the chest rising no more.

She was dead. 

She was really dead.

 So, this is the Afterlife? she asked herself, looking around. Everything in her house looked the same, though slightly blurry, as if seen through a sheer curtain.

 Her eyes passed her wolf and traveled on- then snapped back.

Standing above the shape of her wolf was a man. A white-haired man, dressed foreign and ancient, eyes the same burning golden as her wolf. 

As she watched, his lips crept up in a smirk, and he stepped forward.

As soon as he did, the shape of the wolf disappeared, fading into the darkness

“Hello, my love,” he lisped, voice deep and seeming to reverberate in the empty space.

“H-Hello?” she asked, still surprised when she didn’t hear the age in her voice.

“I am Asteris,” he bowed deeply, smirk still wide. “The name you gave me, I quite like it.”

“I- You- Wha- You-” she babbled, eyes widening.

“Yes, do breathe, sweetheart. Not that it serves any purpose but to stop your rambling.” he said, sighing and reaching out a hand to caress her cheek.

She snapped back at the feel of his skin on hers, slapping his hand away. Well, attempting to. He caught it and grabbed her other wrist with his free hand.

“You- You were just a wolf! My wolf!”

His eyes flashed dangerously, and she flinched. 

 His gaze softened, but his eyes were still sharp.

“I was never just a wolf, my sweet little mouse,” he said, hand trailing slowly down to her neck, making her shiver involuntarily.

“I have been given many names, Mitsuhide, Snake God, Winter God, God of a Thousand Suns, but in truth, I am only one. I am the Nameless, spirit of the Winter, of Frost and Dark, Ice and Pain, Sadness and Snow, everything under the cold sun. And now you, my sweet, would you like to know what you are?”

She stared at him in horror. Her wolf had been a man. Her wolf wasn’t a wolf. Her wolf was a spirit. Her wolf was touching her. A man was touching her. The man-that-used-to-be-her-wolf was touching her. He was touching her neck. She was reacting to it. She was dead. She was dead and in her twenty-five year old body. She was dead. Her wolf wasn’t. Her wolf had been by her side all her life. But he hadn’t. The memories were fake. 

“Shhhh, don’t overthink too much, you’ll hurt your head,” the man- Asteris- soothed, shushing softly and using his other hand to caress her cheek. 

She nodded, then opened her mouth to speak.

“Wh- What am I?” she asked, unsure about the answer.

“You are mine.” he said forcefully, eyes flashing again. She found she didn’t mind it as much this time. “I have watched over you since you were but a screaming child, and I only found it fitting years later, to appoint myself your loyal-” he snorts, mouth twisting up into a smirk. “Watchdog.”

She stared at him.

“So- So the memories?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, then he laughed. “Oh my clever little mouse, I should have known that you would not fall for that. Yes, those memories were implanted in your brain by yours truly, in hopes that you might learn to love me. I am sorry about your parents, but it was a necessary sacrifice. You needed to be mine. They weren’t good for you, not as good as I am.”

 She nodded, the admission he had just given about her parents going in one ear and out the other.

“I am not sorry for that one boy, though.” His presence seemed to grow, and his eyes flickered, his voice low and growly. “He touched where he shouldn’t have.”

She nodded again, this time in agreement, and relaxed slightly. He really did want the best for her.

“Why of course I do. How could I not want the best for you?” he asked, and she jerked her head back in shock. “Ah yes, a bit of a fun fact, from the moment you lifted yourself out of your body, all of your thoughts were revealed. I can read your darkest desires, the corners of your brain you hoped to hide forever.”

He stepped forward again, laying one knee on the bed next to her, and leaning forward, kissing her forehead.

“And what I know of your deepest desires? Oh, my dear, those could fill oceans.”

His lips are soft, she thought. Her brain was overloading a bit too much to think of anything else.

“How could I not? You, who took me in, gave the Nameless a name, kept me fed and safe, loved me for who you thought I was, just a loyal-” his lip curled in distaste, “mutt.” Then he smiled again, and it was as if the sun shone once again. “But no matter about that. I have waited years, and now you are finally.” His presence grew even more, and his eyes flashed bright. “All. Mine.” 

He snorted quietly, a smirk crossing again over his features. “I fear I did act out a bit when it came to you and your… dalliances, but I think that can be excused, given the circumstances, no?” She nodded silently. 

“And never did I expect you to bow to my whims, to keep yourself single, until the day you left this Earth. I could not be happier, pet. You truly have learned what I have been trying to teach you all these years. That you, everything about you, your smile, your laugh, your tears, your body-” He fisted his hand tightly in her hair, causing her to wince slightly. “Belongs to me.”

She stared at him in amazement and hurt fear, then opened her mouth to speak.

“B- But I wasn’t alone.”

He looked at her, simply raising an eyebrow in question.

“I had you.”

He smiled widely, eyes narrowing, releasing and patting down her hair, then bringing his knee off of the bed and holding out his hand.

“Isn’t that the truth, my little lamb. You had me. And you will always have me.”

She smiled, reassured.

“Come with me?” he asked suddenly, eyes boring into hers. “Come with me and be with me forever. Be with me until time bleeds dry. Be mine for eternity. Fulfill what you have been preparing for all your life, what you have been wishing for all your life. Be all mine.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he smiled sweetly at her, and her quip disappeared in a wash of realization that he was really her wolf. That he had been with her all this time, that she had spoken the truth, that she had never truly been alone, and she would never be alone ever again

She stared at him, soundless. A tick started near his eye, and he sighed. “Come, haven’t I been good to you? Don’t you want to repay all I’ve done? Don’t you want to be with me?”

She nodded slowly, a small smile growing on her face. 

His smile matched hers. “Good. Now, come.”

After a moment more of hesitation, she pushed herself off the bed and found herself floating for a few seconds, before she landed on the floor next to the bed. 

She reached out to take his hand, but he snatched it away at the last second.

She looked at him in confusion.

“Wha-?” she asked, a hurt look coming over her face. Didn’t he want her with him?

He shook his head at her, smiling. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost call it cruel.

“Ah ah ah, not just yet.” he said sadly. “I want to hear you say it.”

She was completely lost now, and he sighed.

“Come on, little mouse, say it. Admit the very truth of your being. Say you’re mine.”

Her eyes widened in realization, and she smiled in relief. He did want her with him, he just wanted proof of her feelings.

She looked at her 95-year-old self, still lying motionlessly on the bed, and made a decision.

“I- I’m yours.” she admitted nervously, turning back to him.

His smile grew to impossible lengths, seeming to stretch past his cheeks, and he shuddered, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh, that’s good to hear.” he said, laughing. Then he held his hand out to her again, stepping closer.

“Come, little mouse. Be my prey. Let me be your God, your savior, your predator. Be mine.”

She smiled and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly, slightly scared that he was going to leave, or that she was going to wake up, and this will all have been a dream.

Thankfully, he didn’t. He simply smiled and brought her to him, enfolding her in his arms, inhaling deeply.

“You’ve always smelled delicious, my sweet, but your surrender smells even sweeter.” he murmured.

Unable to see the smirk on his face, she smiled happily and returned the embrace.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

Not waiting for her answer, he snapped his fingers, and they faded out of sight.

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

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So, this was originally supposed to be for a 4 seasons Ikemen Sengoku writing collab that I was doing with @ikesenhell, @ikemenprincessnaga and @ikesenlemonadestandstories, and I was supposed to go 2nd, with winter, but then I went absolutely AWOL and left them hanging, so this is me finally posting and simultaneously apologizing so many times 🙏

This is one of my favorite stories that I’ve written, and I hope you enjoy, even if it’s over a year late ;_;

[ask-them-bois]

Seadweller headcanons

okay shut up here we go

it’s my headcanon that seadwellers, no matter the bloodcolor, can be divided by biomes, which can also be broke down into two catagories: Freshwater and Saltwater. Regardless, they’re all call ‘seadwellers’, even if they are in freshwater, as it seems to be the umbrella term for trolls with fins and gills.

Saltwater seadwellers can be broken down into dwellers such as: Shallow, Coral/Reef, Deep, Abyssal, Kelp, and Frozen

While Freshwater seadwellers are categorized as: Lake, River, Pond, and Swamp.

Now, there can be overlap, such as seadwellers who hang out in brackish water- where saltwater and fresh water mix. The biggest difference in all of the minor categories are physical and mental attributes. But first, some overall headcanons:

All seadwellers must be hatched in special brooding caverns, either ones that are underwater (usually operated by deep and abyssal dwellers), or ones that house vats of water in which the eggs can nest. (jades usually operate these, but coral and shallows may lend a hand in tending to the more difficult hatchlings)

Once hatched, they must stay in the water until pupated from grubs to wrigglers (toddlers?) or else their gills won’t develop right. Some may choose to stay in the water a little longer, too, but over-shooting the time may make it difficult to adjust to breathing air. Underwater cavern-born dwellers have the most difficulty. They must get to the surface immediately, or the transition will be extremely difficult. (See: Abyssal dwellers)

Fresh dwellers are less likely to have bioluminescent marks, but can still develop natural patterns for camouflage.

Diets can vary for each individual, but most must rely on what they have in their immediate biomes. (e.g, swamp dwellers feast on ducks and frogs, while abyssals must rely on dead fall)

Most- if not all- seadwellers have a natural ability to use echo-location, though it is most found in saltwater dwellers. There are many sub-languages for seadwellers. (e.g, they can use bioluminescent marks to communicate, but there is a disconnect between salt’s and fresh’s uses. What flashes mean ‘apple’ for salts may mean ‘pinecone’ for freshies) There’s also instances of Deep and Abyssals learning languages all their own, similar to Morse code (see: Ashhur. He communicates in clicks and hums) Salts also have their own language that is mostly lost, which most call the Language of the Sea. (See: Ruthless used the LotS to speak with the leviathan)

While it is most common in fresh dwellers, some salt dwellers have been recorded to be cannibalistic. It’s more common among freshies, due to the lack of available territory and prey.

All seadwellers possess the ability to reproduce via eggs; a leftover trait from before the mother grub. (Some landdwellers are known to randomly have this ability, too.)

Now then, let’s break down the categories:

Saltdwellers:

Shallow: Rufuss is my shallow dweller. He’s built for the cold temperatures and strong currents, with his extra fat and stocky body. He cannot go into deep waters, as the pressure can leave physical bruises on his thick form. He’s built to withstand currents, not move with them, so that he can’t be sucked out to sea by the undertow. His stockiness and weight are a shared trait with all other shallow dwellers. Shallows are also the ones who find it easiest to move about on land, though the water is always a relief when it holds up their weight.

Coral/Reef: Makeno is a reef dweller. His slim but muscular form gives him the ability to weave through coral and plants with ease. Most reef dwellers would be built the same way. Part of Makeno’s physicality are his freckles. They’re near invisible to the naked eye, unless he’s in the water, where upon they will light up and begin to glow. Biologically, these can be used to communicate, attract prey, or attract mates, but they also can attract predators. Fortunately, these bioluminescent marks don’t show up until a troll is pupated, and the light gets stronger with age. Corals find it easy to transition to the land, too, but if they leave too early it can cause problems with theirs gills, like Makeno’s. (he cannot be around smokes from cigarettes or incense. Cooking smoke is fine purely from immunity build up)

Deep: Deep dwellers are lithe, thin trolls, who’s skin is often much darker than others. They’re more likely to have natural patterns (i.e noticeable stripes, spots or vitiligo) which will most likely also be luminescent marks. They’re also more prone to mutations such as extra fins, or even tails. These trolls find it hard to transition onto land. Not to say that they can’t, but they always feel just a little off, and will often times try to use their gills in moments of panic. 

Abyssal: Ashhur is an abyssal dweller. He’s categorized by soft, supple skin, extremely heightened senses, dark skin, mutations like extra fins and eyes, and an adaptation to extremely hot temperatures. Abyssals are rare- or at least, are assumed to be rare- because their overload of mutations means they must keep hidden. Even violets and fuchsia abyssals must keep a low profile. On top of Ashhur’s own mutations, there can be a mix-match of many other mutations like tails, markings, even extra limbs or- in extremely rare cases- mermaid-like tails. Abyssal’s soft skin, like the blobfish or deep jellies, looks and feels normal under their natural pressures. Out of water, it feels extremely smooth and silky, but can be bruised or cut very easily. Speaking of out of water, abyssals find it the hardest to breathe air, and often feel like their mildly choking when they’re on land.

The heightened senses can be extended to all five senses, but can also sometimes lack in areas. Ashhur is (un)fortunate enough that all his senses are maxed out, which leads to sensory overload more often than not. Abyssals are also prone to Deep Sea Gigantism- when a specimen’s body grows very large, due to the amount of free space they have. Survivor is an example of this, as he is over 24 feet tall. But he’s so heavy that he cannot leave the water, lest his own weight crush him. Ashhur, who is still very young, has yet to grow to such extremes, while his ancestor is over a thousand years old.

Kelp: Kelps are categorized by tough, leathery skin, poor vision, small statures, and tinted skin. Kelps are also the ones who are most likely to be lowbloods, like yellows and olives. Yellow/green colored skin helps blend them in to the kelp forests. However, if they’re found by higher bloods, they’re culled on sight. As such, kelps make up less than 3% of the seadweller population. Their tough skin keeps them safe from the serrated, rough fronds of the kelp and seaweed they bed in. Poor vision is a drawback, but it’s made up for by their extra hearing. Their small statures are a benefit when it comes to hiding, and are skilled in quick strikes when taking down prey.

Frozen: Frozens thrive in extremely cold temperatures, and could faint or grow ill in warm ones. They also have very pale skin- they’re even most likely to be albino. Frozens are often very heavy-set, with extra fat or muscle, and have very low metabolisms, as they have the most trouble finding food. They’re also surprisingly low on the list of most likely to have mutations, but highly likely to be bluebloods or have paler shades of violet and fuchsia.

Freshdwellers:

Lake: Lake dwellers are considered with near cryptid status. Not just due to rarity, but due to their bizarre appearances. Lakes commonly have skin that doesn’t match their bloodcolor, and often matches the colors of their lake. They’re also known to have stringy, seaweed-like hair that almost seems alive in the water, and slit-like nostrils. They’re also among the most territorial. Some allow boating, fishing, and swimming in their waters, but if one litters or disrespects their ecosystem by over-fishing, then that troll may come up missing, their drowned body found later. Or never at all, as Lakes are prone to cannibalize trespassers.

River: River dwellers are often considered the most beautiful. They often have pale, smooth skin, and patterns similar to that of a koi. Rivers are known to have a mild mutation of fish-like scales on their shoulders, brows, forearms, and thighs. Much of the riverdweller population are born mute. It is unclear why this, but it’s theorized it’s an unfortunate trait due to living in such shallow waters; as such, their vocal ability was given up in favor of the easy ability to breathe air, giving up their vocal cords in exchange for properly functioning lungs.

Pond: Pond dwellers are often just young lake dwellers, who later move to lakes when they require bigger territories. If they do choose to stay with their ponds, its unfortunately very easy for them to starve, be picked off by large predators like big cats or bears, or get diseases from mosquitoes and ticks. If they manage to survive all that and get old enough,they’ll most likely move to cities or other places. Ponds get pretty small, after all.

Swamp: Swamp dwellers are among the most savage dwellers. They have to deal with alligators, snakes, big cats, predator birds, and more. Their mutations can be quite unique, with some even recorded to posses venom or poisonous claws. Webbed fingers and toes are common, to help move quickly through the water. Their gills are not well developed, either, as swamps are known to have low oxygen levels in their water. Instead, much like a whale or alligator, swamp dwellers can hold their breath for greatly extended periods of time. Swamps are also very foresty, so swamp dwellers have adapted to moving through the roots by having quick reflexes and lithe movements.

Wow these are long and rambly, but I hope yall like ‘em! These are just my headcanons of course, and if you have any questions I’m happy to answer them! Feel free to use them for your own characters if you like them, I don’t mind.

[luminousdetails]

Bad

The days aren’t all bad. Remember this, when we all look back at March through May as some sort of gaping black hole or faded bloodstain on the duvet cover of this year. The days weren’t all bad, maybe I’ll sigh this to my children someday, staring out the window at nothing. There was that day in early April when the rain finally let up and spring broke all around us like an egg yolk, and everyone opened their doors and stood outside with their faces lifted towards the yellow sun. There was the day a few weeks after that, when the dry heat was holding, when I laid out a towel and sprawled on my stomach in the wide driveway reading the New Yorker all afternoon without a twinge of guilt. I put my ear against the warm humming concrete and stared at the roots of the kumquat tree and wondered why I had never done this in the four years I have lived in this crumbling green house. We are such creatures of habit.

There was the day I wandered up into the patchwork of hills above Highland Park, taking a different route on a whim, and found a street called Wildwood snaking its way through Highland Park and Eagle Rock, a series of dead ends lined with cottages tacked onto the sides of hill-faces and Eucalyptus trees shedding their bark in dusty white strips. As I picked my way up the narrow street, dusk settling around my shoulders, I realized I have always wanted a little house in the hills, a cottage with a wild backyard and knots of cacti and scratched wooden floors and all the furniture I’ve inherited from all the different lives I’ve led. This feels obvious, like some secret dream I’ve been harboring since I was a little girl, instead of something that just occurred to me and clicked into place the way the truth does. I would have an open door policy and friends over for dinner every week (if they bring wine) and dried flowers hanging everywhere and music playing softly all the time and nobody to care if I’m messy or don’t brush my teeth or leave the fridge door wide open while I’m cooking. On Sundays, I’d stretch in my underwear on the living room floor.

There were other days, too. There was the day I put my hair in braids and picked up a farm box from Echo Park, leafy greens and radishes and startlingly orange carrots curled in on themselves like they were crossing their legs. I buckled the white plastic trash bag into my passenger seat and drove the long way home, down Sunset through Silver Lake and into Los Feliz and Hollywood, circling Echo Park lake and heading home on surface streets, listening to soft music and feeling a clutching in my chest every time I pass a closed shop or restaurant or bar with a handwritten note stuck to the door, as if they had had to leave town in a hurry. No one expected this. Dates are crossed out, rewritten, replaced with the wide-eyed blank stare of “indefinitely.” The streets are empty and silent and coated in slick sunlight; I am heaving with grief. I stand in my kitchen, home again, safe again, and exhale without realizing I was holding my breath. Instead of crying, I unload my sack of vegetables, a kid’s nightmare inverse of Santa, and carefully wash the dirt off each leaf, each root.

A week later, I use two bunches of wilting kale to make a vegetarian lasagna. The days were not all bad. There was a night I took a long hot shower, combed out my damp hair, and made a cocktail by blending cucumbers into a pulpy juice and adding in gin and lime and sugar. Dehydrated, I drank half in one gulp and tipsily made kimchi pancakes and banana bread with cream cheese frosting. It feels good to use your whole hands to make something. There was the day I spotted a red whiskered bul-bul perched on the power lines crisscrossing my backyard, its strange little mohawk and desperate four note call. There was birthday cake for breakfast for a week. My hair is longer than it has ever been. I am finishing books for the first time in a year and stacking them brings me great satisfaction. I stop and smell every rose I see without a hint of pretension. I pull down my mask and bury my face in a wall of jasmine. I touch myself until I fall asleep, the full moon looming outside my window like a ping pong ball lost under a table. I walk the crooked streets of Highland Park at dusk and watch all the lights come on inside the houses, the twinkly porch lights flickering on and front doors hanging open behind screens. Inside their little boxes, sanitized and safe, people grill meat and chop vegetables for stir fry, surrounded by the ones they have chosen as theirs. Who would we choose to be with if we knew this was the end of the world? The question itches at me like static electricity. I watch these people from outside, feeling an expanse of nothingness for miles and miles. Behind thick panes of glass, they ripple and glow like candles, like the bluey oval center of a flame.

One day, I was reading on the porch and looked up and gasped. The hummingbird who had nested on our front porch two years ago, who felt precious like some skittering sign from the universe, was back, sitting in her woolen nest that balances precariously on a wind chime. Her long beak haughty in the air, like “did you miss me?” Strands of my hair are braided throughout her nest. Of course she came back. There was the day I discovered a ridge tiptoeing across the back of the canyon, a skinny little street without sidewalks that led me from the main thoroughfare of Highland Park to the main thoroughfare of Eagle Rock, about a mile and a half. There is joyfulness in finding your footing, I think to myself, in realizing that the world unfolds further and further with each step you take. I want to tell someone this, but I have no one to tell (if this was it, maybe I would choose to be alone). But there is also a joyfulness in swallowing the secrets of the universe whole.

[falseroar]

Silver and Peppermint (Part 7)

((Part 7 of a fantasy AU, where Monster Hunter Abe and his reluctant partner, the DA, are trying to track down a murderous werewolf. Except Abe’s partner has left, determined to find what they missed while he is sure they have the monster trapped behind bars. Or at least, he was sure.

Links to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue))

At the station, they took Luke to a prepared room where wards had been written into the doors and the two-way mirror separating it from the observation room, all in silver paint that glowed in the fluorescent lighting overhead as Abe took a seat across the table from him. Garroway was forced to watch from the observation room, but he swore he could still hear her incessant harping even through the glass as the detective seated next to him started the questions.

“Name?”

“…Luke Red.” His voice was sullen, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet theirs.

“Occupation?”

“Personal assistant. To Lydelle Garroway.”

“Where were you on the night of the 7th?”

Abe sat there, restless as Luke answered each of the questions in turn, always seeming to have an alibi for each night of the murders, one that put him in the same place as a couple if not dozens of people, always doing some task or another for Garroway at the theater. Before long the detective had a widening list of names to double check with, and Abe could practically feel the smugness penetrating through the glass.

“Where were you this morning, 6am?” he asked.

“Getting dressed and ready for the day,” Luke answered, and for the first time his eyes darted up, meeting Abe’s as a flicker of a smile passed his face. “Took a shower, cooked some eggs, maybe made a cup of coffee or two.”

Abe felt the heat rising to his face again, but he kept his composure as he asked, “Can anyone confirm that?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m afraid I’m not that lucky.”

“You reacted to the silver hand cuffs I placed on you in Garroway’s house,” Abe said. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was when Abe started to feel it all slip away.

“What? What do you mean?” Abe rose from his chair, leaning against the table as he said, “You started screaming the second I put them on you.”

“I don’t know, they hurt.”

“Show me your wrists, now,” Abe demanded, ignoring the detective’s warning as he reached across the table and dragged Luke’s arm into view.

There wasn’t a single mark on them.

“What is this?” the detective asked, shooting a look toward the mirror.

Luke on the other hand met Abe’s stare dead-on, that flicker of a smile returning. “…Maybe they were too tight.”

He agreed to a test, and flipped the silver coin in the air a couple of times before neatly catching it in the palm of his hand, his smile never wavering.

“I don’t understand,” Abe said later, after all the tests he could think of proved again and again that Luke was not a werewolf. “What does this mean?”

“It means you got the wrong guy,” the Chief of Police said. He sat back behind his desk and shook his head at Abe before continuing, “I can hold him until we get his alibis confirmed, but there’s no reason to keep him after that. Garroway already has her lawyer terrorizing the place, and they’ve all but guaranteed this entire incident will be all over the morning news.”

“But why did he fake it, back at the house?” Abe said. “There was no reason to do that, he knew what we would think—”

“Which is exactly what I’ve told the lawyer, but there’s only so far we can take a charge of reckless behavior due to outright stupidity. Believe me, I’ve tried.” The Chief sighed and continued, “Sorry, bud, but it’s not looking good for you. The Mayor’s going to have to do something to save face tomorrow once this is out, and you’re the easiest one to cut out of the investigation.”

“But there really is a werewolf out there killing people,” Abe protested, even though he knew deep down the Chief was right. “The city needs a hunter to deal with this thing, before it gets any worse.”

“I know, and I agree,” was the answer that surprised Abe. “I saw the bodies, too. And we’ve taken as much of your advice into practice as possible, but without hard evidence…”

“The DA,” Abe said, but that spark of hope faded when he remembered the look they gave him before they left. “They were going to check out Garroway’s house and go over everything, maybe…”

“It’s about as much a shot as you’ve got,” the Chief agreed. “If anyone can dig up something out of nothing, it’s them. You’ll want to go soon though, curfew’s still in place.”

Despite the warning, Abe found himself straying back toward Luke’s cell. A regular one, since the threat he posed didn’t warrant the wards anymore. There was no one around, but Abe could hear Garroway’s voice coming from one of the rooms down the hall as he stopped to look in.

“Not supposed to talk to you without the lawyer present,” Luke said, but his smile invited Abe to say something, anything.

“Why fake it?” Abe asked. “We were already taking you in, how did you think that could possibly help?”

“Eh, makes you look like an idiot, so that seems like an upside,” Luke answered. He turned and laid down on the bench, arms crossed behind his head as he looked up at the graffiti on the ceiling. “But you seem like the type to waste time all on your own, which is why I guess you’re here.”

“You put something in my coffee this morning, I know it was you,” Abe said, to which the assistant shrugged. “Why?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, but again, you seem like the type to have a lot of people looking to get you out of the way.”

Abe could not deny that, but he could ask, “You didn’t even know me, but you knew where to find me, when to find me. That setup was too perfect, too well-timed. How?”

“People get lucky. Especially if they take a job from someone with a lot of detailed instructions. Too bad for all of us the one detail that turned out to be wrong was you actually drinking the coffee. Not that I would know anything about that.”

“Instructions from who? Garroway?”

“It’s ‘whom’, and of course not. Who do you think she is? She’s practically a paragon of virtue, can’t you hear her standing up for her poor, falsely accused underling right now? Let me tell you, she’d drop me like a hot rock if she had any reason to believe otherwise.”

Personal assistant, Abe thought. How much of Garroway’s business did he handle? That address they found at the victim’s house, maybe it was pointing to the wrong person.

But it didn’t change the fact that Luke wasn’t the werewolf. As deep in this as Abe suspected him to be, he wasn’t the killer. So, who was?

Luke laughed again when he saw the hunter’s expression out of the corner of his eye and said, “Like I said, wasting your precious, precious time.”

Abe borrowed a phone to call the District Attorney’s office, if only because he didn’t want a door slammed in his face, but when no one answered he gave up and tried the Mayor’s office instead.

“Y/N? Last I heard they were on their way to the hospital.” Damien sounded distracted, and Abe heard him ask for a minute before his voice was back on the line. “Abe, what the hell is going on? First, I hear Franklin is in the hospital after you give him a literal heart attack, now word’s gotten out that there are werewolves in the city—”

Abe barely heard anything after the Mayor’s answer.

Wasting time, Luke had said. Faking lycanthropy, that had to have been to throw off the investigation, but Luke must have known he couldn’t keep up the charade for long. There had to be a reason for that, right? He wanted to stall it, to keep Abe and the DA preoccupied, but not for long. Why? The closest they came to finding the killer’s identity was—

Franklin.

“Why did they go to the hospital?” Abe interrupted the Mayor.

“It would seem you failed to kill off an innocent civilian despite your best efforts,” the Mayor answered, sarcasm dripping heavy enough that even Abe noticed it. “The doctors believe he may wake up soon.”

All the more reason to put him in the grave as soon as possible, before he could share what he knew.

Abe swore into the phone.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” the Mayor answered. “I should have listened to Y/N, you never belonged on this case. See me in the morning, Hunter, I—”

“Right, yeah, sure, glad to hear it,” Abe answered before hanging up on the sputtering man and bolting for the door. An officer tried to grab the sleeve of his jacket and warn him that curfew was coming on soon, but he pushed past him and shot out the door, running as fast as he could.

There were police at the hospital, thanks to the District Attorney, and Abe didn’t doubt for a second that they had already warned the cops to be on the lookout as soon as they put it together. The Mayor wasn’t the only one who should have listened to them. They had known there was something off about Luke, had insisted on finding all the answers. Maybe they already had an idea of who would be coming for Franklin tonight.

Abe imagined the murderer walking into the hospital just like any other visitor, there to visit a friend who had suddenly fallen ill. Walking up to Franklin’s room, or maybe changing right there in the middle of the visitor’s area, tearing through anyone and everything in its way to Franklin.

Including his partner.

Abe sped up on the empty streets, aware of the streetlights flickering into life overhead as the sun began its steady descent, as the wind picked up, as time ran out. Just a couple of blocks away from the hospital he stopped to catch his breath, wheezing and wishing he had learned for once in his life how to pace himself when it really counted.

And he felt the stare of someone watching him.

Abe slowly straightened up, continuing his exaggerated wheezing and trying to hide his quick look around. The street was empty, unnaturally so even for this time of the day thanks to the curfew, but the sensation of being watched only grew until the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he turned to face the figure standing behind him.

“Abe!” John said with a friendly smile. “What a surprise. I didn’t expect to run into anyone out here at this hour.”

“What are you doing out here?” Abe asked, wishing the words weren’t accompanied by the harsh gasp for air. “There’s a curfew, you know that.”

“I was on my way to the hospital,” John said. “It looks like you were headed in the same direction. Nothing has happened to Y/N, has it?”

“No, they’re fine,” Abe said. He was already suspicious before, but now every alarm bell was ringing as the man stepped closer. Abe put a hand to his side as though holding a stitch and felt the comforting shape of his revolver under his coat. “Might have burned their hand this morning, I’m on my way to escort them back to the office. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“Too true,” John said, still smiling as his eyes flickered to follow the movement of Abe’s hand. “Perhaps we could walk there together?”

“Yeah, I’d like to keep my eye on you,” Abe said, adding as an afterthought, “For your protection, of course.”

“…Of course.”

John fell into step beside Abe, his posture loose, relaxed compared to the hunter, who felt like a spring held tight and ready to lash out at the slightest reason.

“Something wrong with you?” Abe asked.

“Pardon?”

“You’re going to the hospital, right?”

“No, I am merely wishing to visit an acquaintance of mine.”

“And I guess it just couldn’t wait until morning,” Abe muttered.

“There is no guarantee he will make it through the night,” John said, his tone unchanging. “I thought I should go and see him myself.”

Abe knew he might be walking next to not just a werewolf, but a confirmed killer on his way to meet another victim. It was a less than pleasant feeling, especially with no one else around and no guarantee that anyone in the neighboring houses would open the door to him if he called for help. Even if they did it might just sign their own ticket to meet the Grim Reaper. There was also the chance that he was completely wrong again, which just half an hour ago he wouldn’t have thought would be the better option.

He had to be sure before he did anything he couldn’t take back, and without becoming literally dead sure the hard way. Even now, it was hard not to smile when he could practically hear the District Attorney’s voice again:

Tell me, how are you at bluffing?

“Funny thing, one of our witnesses had to be taken to the hospital earlier today. Well, not ‘haha’ funny, but you get my drift. I get the feeling maybe you know him. Name Franklin ring a bell? Hippie banker type.”

“I’m not sure that’s a real type, but yes, I know of Franklin. What happened to him?”

“Seems like he got a little upset at the thought of a monster roaming around the city,” Abe said.

“You mean the werewolf,” John said.

“You knew I was looking for a werewolf,” Abe said.

“Well, the rumors were going around, but I think we can say the cat’s out of the bag—or maybe the wolf’s out of the cage? News travels so fast in this city.”

Except it wasn’t common knowledge when John made that comment to Abe this morning, just before he left the loan broker’s shop.

“So fast Franklin knew what was coming for him,” Abe said. But not who. He had called the werewolf an ‘it,’ not ‘him’ or ‘her.’ “He had tried to protect himself, seemed to know why it was coming for him.”

“A shame he didn’t get the chance to tell you anything,” John said.

“Except he did,” Abe said, realizing it was true. Sure, the banker had panicked, but part of that was claiming he didn’t want to be a part of ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ was. Abe had assumed he had tried to back out of whatever business the other victims were a part of, but now the victim’s letter crossed his mind, the unsent invitations. Someone wanted out and they were looking for others to join them—only for their group to be knocked down one by one. A coward like Franklin would never have willingly stood up to someone they were so terrified of. Not without a backup plan.

He had the Haywood papers, stolen from Marcus’s apartment after the werewolf ransacked it. What if the papers were just another security measure, like the silver wards on the door or the wolfsbane hidden around the house? But how would he have gotten his hands on them, without risking running into the werewolf?

Well, he could have gotten the help of someone who was used to running errands for other people, someone who turned right around and tipped the werewolf off before trying to distract the people in charge of the case long enough for their one witness to be taken care of.

It was a guess, a total shot in the dark, but Abe had acted on less before.

“I almost forgot. Luke wants you to know he tried to keep quiet, he really did.”

He saw it, the second John’s face gave him away before he could stop it. John opened his mouth as though to pretend otherwise, to act like he didn’t know what he was talking about, but then after a pause a harsh, humorless laugh escaped instead.

“You are a treat, aren’t you?” John let the laugh die away into silence, but he was still smiling even if it didn’t reach his eyes as he studied Abe. “I’ve never met someone as ridiculous and hardheaded as you, hunter. I’d almost think you were perceptive, if not for the fact you can’t seem to see what’s right in front of your eyes.”

“Oh, I know a murderer when I see one,” Abe snarled, reaching for his gun. “And I’m going to take care of you, right here, right now.”

“The worst part is, I was supposed to meet Y/N out here, not you,” John snarled back, and it was a real snarl, a feral sound that shouldn’t have come out of a human throat. “That’s two times she steered us wrong. But you know what they say: Never trust a seer.”

Abe aimed to shoot, but with a strength that even his build would not suggest, John picked him up by the collar and threw him into the alley with about as much effort as someone tossing out the trash, a pile of which Abe landed in with a groan.

“Oh, well. At least your corpse should be enough to distract the cops while I take care of the rat and that delicious little DA,” John said, each word becoming more distorted and difficult to make out as the shape of his mouth changed, from a sneer into a muzzle full of glistening white fangs, behind which his body contorted and broke into the shape of a massive wolf nearly as big as a horse, its fur practically glowing in the darkness like the eyes that stared hungrily at Abe.

The hunter pulled out his gun and managed to fire off one shot, but it went astray and he had no chance to fire a second before the wolf was on him, one paw crushing his wrist beneath its weight as the foaming jaws went for his throat. Abe could feel its breath on his skin just before the weight suddenly lifted.

His eyes shot open to see the massive wolf stumble away and turning to meet its attacker: a second wolf, visibly smaller and darker but standing its ground, hackles raised as it gave a menacing growl that sounded nothing like the whimper Abe heard from it the night before.

It wasn’t even half the size of John, but he kept his distance for a moment, ears back as he studied the newcomer that stood between him and the hunter. When he stepped forward the second wolf’s growl reached a new pitch, shoulders twisting up to increase its size as it failed to back down. With John’s attention diverted, Abe slowly reached for his gun but froze when the wolf’s eyes latched on to him again, the muzzle beneath parting into a wicked grin of a snarl.

Only for those eyes to flicker back toward the other wolf, and then downward. Abe followed the gaze in time to see that the other wolf’s stance was off. While all four paws were touching the ground, it was clearly not putting its full weight on one of its front legs, the same one he saw it limping on the night before.

The pause in between the first attack and that realization had to have been merely seconds, and then John went for his next attack. The other wolf leapt, just barely dodging the jaws that snapped at its injured leg and was on top of the larger wolf, snarling and tearing at anything in reach while John tried to shake it off before ramming into the nearest wall with a sickening sound from the smaller wolf. It slid to the ground, momentarily dazed before the larger wolf was on top of it, fangs lunging toward its exposed underbelly.

A crack split the air and the white wolf jerked to a stop before it could lay teeth to the other, golden eyes turning toward Abe just as he fired off a second round, and then a third.

One would have been enough, but it took restraint not to fire everything he had into the lumbering beast that took one, two steps toward him before crashing to the ground. Its body shook and shivered as it started to change back into human form, only to give out halfway, leaving John both recognizable and yet not.

The second wolf stood, or tried to. It took more than one attempt to get back onto its shaking limbs, and when it did it just stared at Abe, who looked back from the other side of his gun’s barrel.

He couldn’t miss this time. And he had two rounds left.

More than enough.

A second passed, and then another, but Abe’s finger was still on the trigger when he heard the sirens of the police coming closer, no doubt coming in response to the gunshots fired. The wolf’s ears flicked in their direction, but its eyes didn’t leave Abe’s face as he sighed and lowered his gun. He looked toward the flashing lights pulling up at the end of the alley.

But John wouldn’t be hurting anyone else, and at least one of his accomplices was either behind bars or on his way back to them.

More than enough, for now.

Abe sank against the wall behind him and looked back. As he expected, the other wolf was gone, but the new lights did help him to see something he hadn’t noticed before: a square, wrinkled piece of fabric with a familiar design.

Abe stared at it as one thought trickled through his mind:

I am such an idiot.

((Thank you for reading!

Here’s a link to the epilogue to wrap this story up.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight ​ @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat  @catgirlwarrior  @neverisadork  @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy  @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead  @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

[themurphyzone]

Lucky Thirteen Ch 3

Ch 3: Three’s a Crowd

Come to Alvizo’s Cafe on Haywood Street. My treat. 

He sent the text, wondering if Dakota was even awake. He’d see the text soon enough, and the promise of brunch would be incredibly tantalizing for his food-obsessed mind. 

The quickest way to Dakota’s heart was through his stomach after all. Cavendish paying for the meal was just the cherry on the sundae. 

The downside was that he’d also have to pay for Doofenshmirtz’s meal too. There was no way around it. Dakota would get suspicious if he didn’t pay for Doofenshmirtz. And Cavendish couldn’t afford to be seen as anything less than a gracious host. 

“That’s weird, the Tip-inator’s supposed to automatically calculate the tip based on your bill and generate the right amount. I have no idea why it’s spitting out enough coins to fill up a Swiss Bank.” 

The floor was completely littered in dimes and quarters, and workers had to take it slow so they didn’t trip over the metallic piles. Many patrons were shooting dirty looks at Doofenshmirtz, though he didn’t seem to notice or care. 

“Can’t you turn it off?” Cavendish asked. 

Doofenshmirtz rolled his eyes. “And miss a chance to do good? Society doesn’t appreciate servers and vendors enough! I should know, I used to be a bratwurst street vendor. I would do my whole ‘I am a Superstar’ routine again if it meant getting this many tips.” 

Cavendish’s phone buzzed. 

Be there soon. Yum! 

Dakota had tacked on a slew of food emojis at the end of his message. For some reason, Dakota insisted on using cups of tea and hamburgers in every text conversation. 

“Moving on. Dakota will be here in just a few minutes. Remember, your job is to make things less awkward than they already are,” Cavendish said. 

Doofenshmirtz threw up his hands. “Hey man, I’m a do-gooder, not a miracle worker. But look on the bright side you unjolly green giant, you don’t have to worry about your budget. If you don’t have enough, you can just scoop some coins off the floor to make up the rest of the bill.” 

Cavendish wasn’t cruel enough to subject a poor worker to counting that many coins. Go figure that Doofenshmirtz managed to figure out a way to help an employee with finances while simultaneously diminishing their efficiency at work. 

Cavendish patted his lapel, making absolutely sure the ring box was secured. He couldn’t afford to lose the rings again. 

The clock’s hands ticked on. 

Dakota still wasn’t here. 

There weren’t any new messages either. 

What’s the exact timeframe of ‘soon’ in this context? A few minutes, an hour, a day, or when the Earth ceases to exist? 

Doofenshmirtz snapped his fingers in Cavendish’s face, bringing him back to the present. “Geez, did you eat something last night that turns you into a praying mantis? Cause I don’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re gonna adopt the whole behead your mate thing.” 

Cavendish realized that he’d been involuntarily holding his arms in front of him, bent at an awkward downward angle. The praying mantis description was somewhat accurate. He shoved his hands into his pockets, slumping against the back of his chair. 

He’d never been good at hiding that particular nervous tic. 

“No, I am not adopting that bug’s appalling mating or dietary habits,” Cavendish muttered petulantly. 

“That’s a relief. Just thought I’d warn you from personal experience, avoid all insects during your proposal. They tend to bug the intended fiance,” Doofenshmirtz said, grinning widely at his own pun. “You see what I did there? Bug as in insect bug?” 

“Yes, you’re a pungeon master entirely worthy of an Emmy award,” Cavendish muttered. “So you’ve proposed before? What did you do?” 

“Wrote a musical number and hired backup singers. Jazz is Charlene’s favorite genre. Had this whole nifty bit with the saxophone. She was impressed. Then a swarm of bees were attracted to the pots of honey we used as background props and stung almost everyone. Charlene managed to escape unscathed, but the backup singers had at least four stingers each and I had to go to the hospital because of allergies. Charlene managed to smooth everyone’s feathers out, cause the backup singers weren’t that happy with me afterward.” 

Note to self: Try to avoid anaphylactic shock via bee stings during proposal. Easy enough to prevent: just don’t involve honeypots in any way, shape, or form. 

“Then we got married, had Vanessa...remind me to show you pictures later, she’s always frowning in her baby pictures but she looks so adorable doing it...oh, and now we’re divorced.” 

Cavendish thought he’d misheard that last sentence. 

Doofenshmirtz coughed. “Now that I think about it, mentioning divorce probably isn’t soothing your nerves.” 

Divorced. Please let me fall to Earth’s molten core so I don’t have to deal with this anymore. 

Dakota arrived half an hour later. He munched on a chocolate donut, casually wading through the pile of coins that were now ankle-deep. 

“What took you so long?” Cavendish griped once Dakota sat down. 

“Donut place had free samples. Figured I’d grab one for the road,” Dakota replied, licking the chocolate off his fingers. “And I can’t say no to the breakfast burritos here.” 

“Yes, heaven forbid that you refuse food,” Cavendish agreed. 

“Yeah, he was all worried about being jilted,” Doofenshmirtz added. “Perry the Platypus did that to me from time to time. Like, I get the mysterious secret agent schtick, but at least tell me why you can’t thwart first.” 

Cavendish scowled. “I wasn’t worried about being jilted! You’re completely misconstruing the situation!” 

Realizing that people were staring, Cavendish quickly buried his head in the menu and pretended to read the pancake options. Since Cavendish was preoccupied with his embarrassment, Dakota was the one who signaled a waiter to come over and take their orders. 

“Blueberry pancakes with tea,” Cavendish mumbled to the waiter, regretting that he couldn’t hang onto the menu to hide behind when he needed a moment to recuperate. 

Rather predictably, Dakota ordered breakfast burritos. 

Doofenshmirtz decided on eggs and bratwurst. He spent four minutes rambling about the superiority of bratwurst to hot dogs before the waiter got fed up and left for the kitchen. 

“How’s Milo doing?” Dakota asked. “I’m trying to lay low for a while. I think his parents are trying to get me and Cavendish to pay for a new table since we used theirs to temporarily plug a deadly vortex.” 

“He told me some of my bad luck came from not thinking things through,” Doofenshmirtz said. “I think he’s onto something.” 

“Yeah, he’s a smart kid,” Dakota said.  

“So if I just take enough time to think about my actions, I can avoid stuff blowing up in my face at a later point. Alright, so I ordered eggs and bratwurst, and that doesn’t come with dairy, so my body won’t react from lactose intolerance, the cafe gets $10.99 from my order alone, unless the coins build up enough to cause structural damage which they’d have to spend money to fix,” Doofenshmirtz mused. He quickly pressed a button on the Tip-inator, and the coin flow trickled to a halt. “Oh, that’s useful. I found a potential consequence and I figured out how to avert it. Thinking through stuff works!” 

By now, everyone’s knees were buried underneath the coins. Parents had to carry their children out the door. 

The waiter finally delivered their food, then rushed over to help a coworker who was stuck behind the counter.

Cavendish tried to focus on cutting his pancakes instead of how he had nothing to talk about. How did one broach the topic of engagement? 

Thank you for not letting me stay dead. Will you marry me?  

Yeah, that would go over well. 

“You gonna say something or what?” Doofenshmirtz asked, poking Cavendish with his fork. “Cause you’re quieter than Mother whenever she gave me the silent treatment.” 

Cavendish brushed the offending utensil away. “I was about to say how...nice the sun is today.” 

Dakota pointed to the gray clouds that blanketed the sky. “It’s overcast.”

“Of course,” Cavendish quickly amended. “The clouds look nice today.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Dakota asked. His breakfast burrito threatened to dump its contents all over his pants. 

“Dakota, keep that greasy thing over your plate,” Cavendish scolded. 

Dakota sighed in relief. “Never mind, you’re fine.” 

“Look, a nonspecific thing in the ceiling!” Doofenshmirtz shouted, pointing above Dakota’s head. When Dakota glanced at the ceiling, Doofenshmirtz snatched Cavendish’s arm and hauled him to the restroom. 

Cavendish yanked his arm out of Doofenshmirtz’s grip. The doc was faster than he looked. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Cavendish snapped.

Doofenshmirtz scowled. “That’s my line, mustachio. The sun is nice? The clouds are nice? I can’t believe you sunk low enough to start talking about the weather! That’s like, first date material! The kind that doesn’t lead to a second date!” 

“I was nervous!” 

“I was nervous when I proposed! And you know what? I just did the musical number anyway! Just pop the question already!” 

“Why are you even here?” 

“You told Brigitte and Martin that you wanted my help! Okay, Martin seemed oddly happy that I was out of the house but oh well. They filled me on the way over here,” Doofenshmirtz said. 

“You’re the worst wingman in the history of wingmen,” Cavendish growled. 

“I’m beginning to understand why Perry the Platypus always seemed more annoyed when he had to wingman my dates,” Doofenshmirtz sighed. “Still, I don’t think I was ever this hopeless.” 

He has a point. This is hopeless. 

Cavendish turned to the sink, splashing his face with water to clear his mind. 

“What do I even say?” Cavendish muttered. 

“Well, if you can’t do musical numbers or long, flowery speeches, there’s always the direct approach.” 

Though he was fairly certain that Doofenshmirtz and direct were complete opposites, Cavendish decided to humor him. “What’s your idea for the direct approach?” he asked. 

“Some punching, a little kicking...you know if you throw your hat like a projectile he’ll probably find it cool. And trapping! Trapping him in your clutches works too!” 

“Never mind. I regret asking.” 

“And the manager had to bring out this really tall stepladder! And he was afraid of heights so he asked our waiter, but he was afraid of bats. So they tried getting this other girl to do it but she was afraid of ladders,” Dakota said, continuing his play-by-play of the events that Cavendish and Doofenshmirtz missed while they’d argued in the restroom. “So they got their chef out here and guess what?” 

“He was afraid of ceilings?” Doofenshmirtz guessed. 

Dakota shook his head. “Nope, he was scared of the spider that made its home in a top corner of the ladder. But they got the bat down, so crisis averted.”  

Doofenshmirtz and Dakota laughed together, but Cavendish really didn’t see what was so funny about it. At least heights, ladders, bats, and spiders were all tangible. 

Cavendish couldn’t pinpoint his fear toward one thing when it came to the dreaded question. 

Their food was cleared away, then the check was dropped off. Cavendish felt a bit guilty when he saw the receipt.

“What’s up? More than you expected?” Dakota asked. 

“Said it was my treat, didn’t I?” Cavendish said, carefully counting out his money to make exact change. The total price of their meals didn’t bother him, but the physical receipt did. 

He looked up to find Doofenshmirtz pinching his index finger and thumb together to form a ring shape, not so subtly indicating Dakota with his other hand. 

Okay, maybe I can do this. How hard can it be? Face Dakota. Open mouth. Try not to insult him. Take out ring box. Actually, speaking should go somewhere in there too. 

“Dakota, there’s something-”

“WE HAVE SECURED PERMISSION TO SEARCH THIS CAFE!” 

Everyone screamed as coins suddenly flew everywhere. Three men in perfectly tailored suits and sunglasses spread out, swiping through coin piles and upturning tables as they searched. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” one of the men said, stopping at their table. “Many of the patrons have stated that a machine is the source of these coins. They pointed us to your table. Do you know anything?” 

Cavendish and Dakota were fully prepared to deny these accusations, but Doofenshmirtz beat them to the punch. 

“The Tip-inator’s mine,” Doofenshmirtz said, brushing coins off the machine and setting it in front of the stunned agent. “Waiters won’t have to worry about bad tips again with this puppy!” 

Some people were just asking to be punched in the face with an elephant. 

“Counterfeiting is a federal offense. We’ll have to take you in,” the man said as he handcuffed Doofenshmirtz. Then he gestured to Cavendish and Dakota. “Are they accomplices?” 

“No,” Doofenshmirtz scowled. “I was wingmaning them cause the leprechaun can’t-” 

“Yeesh,” the agent grimaced, and Cavendish was grateful for his timing. “Word of advice: don’t pick felons for wingmen.” 

Tell me about it. 

“Wow, so this is the consequence I should’ve been wary of, not the structural damage thing,” Doofenshmirtz said as he was led to a white federal vehicle and taken away. He may have the right to remain silent, but he sure as heck wouldn’t be taking advantage of it. 

“Why was he wingmaning us? Did you need a mediator cause you’re mad at me for some reason?” Dakota asked. 

“Yes and no,” Cavendish said. 

“This is about me dropping your Professor Time boxers into the red load at the laundromat, isn’t it?” 

“No, it’s not that. I wanted a nice brunch and then he goes and gets himself arrested and I’ve been overcome by the urge to strangle my twenty-year-old self for buying that Professor Time pin-up calendar...and you dropped my Professor Time boxers into the red load?” 

Dakota grinned. “I plead not guilty.” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” Cavendish muttered. 

“Thanks for the burrito. It was good. There’s an adoption fair in the mall today. You wanna go look at cute animals?” 

“You go ahead. I think I need a me day,” Cavendish said. Mostly to think about his next course of action, since Operation: Propose After Brunch was a complete bust. 

“Catch ya later then,” Dakota said, humming to himself as he walked off. “Goin’ to the fair. Goin’ to the fair, and then I’m gonna see some animals!” 

The world didn’t end. It’s not exactly the worst case scenario. 

“Krrr.” 

Cavendish looked up from his sulking to find Perry the Platypus examining the Tip-inator. The men must’ve forgotten to take the machine for evidence. 

“The federal agents arrested Doofenshmirtz for counterfeiting,” Cavendish explained. “He was trying to correct the issue of bad tipping.” 

Perry tipped his hat in a silent thanks, scribbling out a note that stated he would speak to Doofenshmirtz later. 

And use some cartoonish physical violence too. Cavendish chose not to question it. 

Perry flipped a switch in the Tip-inator, and the coins vanished in a flash of light. Then he ripped out a wire, disabling it for good. 

“When you see him, can you punch him once for me?” Cavendish asked. 

Perry saluted, more than happy to oblige the request. 

It wouldn’t solve his proposal problem, but it made him feel better. 

AN: Talk about a trainwreck

[everything-is-by-design]

Katherine Pierce & Reader Shipping Imagine

Gender neutral imagine. Klaus is mentioned but not involved in this imagine. It’s basically just the reader and Little Miss Katherine Pierce. This is a bit of a different layout than my other imagines and has more depth. Katherine is hard to write to say the least. Some swearing. Some drinking of alcohol (lots of blood drinking). Some fluff, as much fluff as an evil bitchy vampire can dish out. Gore and death and some smut in this imagine, because Katherine obviously. To me, she’s the definition of Fanged and Fabulous. Show me your teeth! Xo.

-She catches your eye immediately; sexy as hell, barely wears colour, perfect hair, and a little scary.

-She starts off hating you, too immersed in herself to really care about you in any fashion. You try and win her over by bringing her coffee and bourbon. She hints to you that she enjoys her drinks much hotter and thicker.

-You take her shopping, which of course she doesn’t deny. You buy her things. She doesn’t really appreciate it, but fake-smiles anyway. If she doesn’t have to put in effort then she won’t. Because Katherine.

-You’re walking home alone one night and you’re attacked by a mugger. While you’re pinned against the wall, you offer for the robber to take your wallet and go. The robber subsequently stabs you in the gut and you scream. However, they are suddenly pulled off of you and you fall to the ground. You look up to see Katherine holding the robber by the throat, feet off of the ground. Her eyes are red and she’s got fangs. “K-Katherine?”

 “This is my human, bitch,” She says to the robber before snapping their neck. You cringe at the sound and watch their body fall limply to the ground.

 Katherine squats in front of you, she looks at your bleeding stomach. Fangs still bared, she sinks them into her wrist and then offers it to you. You just stare at her. She rolls her eyes, “Drink it or bleed to death. Your choice.”

 You grab onto her arm and drink her blood. Your wound heals and she helps you up. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

 Katherine eyes you, “What makes you think that?”

 “You’re kind of a bitch to me,” You squeak out.

 She smirks, “Love is weakness. It’s easier to not care.”

-She takes you out to breakfast after the event and you two eat in silence. You know, until you can’t hold back the questions anymore. “So, you’re a vampire then?”

 “Excellent deduction there, Sherlock.” Her sarcasm makes you smirk.

 You nodded, “Okay.”

 She looks up at you from her fashion magazine. She almost looks worried. Which is a little out of character for her. “Is that okay?”

 You smiled, “Yeah. Doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

 She doesn’t respond, just looks back down at her magazine.

 “Thanks for breakfast,” You say, shoveling scrambled eggs into your mouth.  She doesn’t respond so you shrug, smile, and keep eating.

-You’re not the most moral person in the world and now that you have a vampire hanging around, you start daydreaming about all the things you could do to all the people who ever hurt you. Katherine catches you writing down names. She snatches your paper and you scramble to your feet. “What’s this?”

 You fiddle with your shirt, “N-Nothing.”

 She cocks an eyebrow and looks at the list, “I’ll compel it out of you if I have to.”

 You sigh, “It’s a list of people I want to…hurt.”

 A strange sort of mixture of satisfaction, excitement, and glee rises in her eyes, “Oh?”

 “Y-Yeah, I mean you’re a vampire right? I can’t help but think what we…what you could do to them. I don’t exactly want to kill them. Just want them to suffer…a bit…a lot.”

 Pride. Utter pride is painted across her face. Her smile is dark and twisted and hot as hell. She moves closer to you, “Well, I’m sure we can arrange something.”

 That is the first time she kisses you.

-She gets possessive over you, and I say ‘gets’ because sometimes it seems like she doesn’t care at all. She does. She just doesn’t like to let it show. You like the attention so you don’t complain that much. Anyone who looks at you in a way she doesn’t like, she’ll either threaten to or just go all out and snap their necks. It’s a little drastic, but you’re hers not theirs. Katherine doesn’t like other people playing with her toys to say the least.

-Sex. Vampire stamina. After that first kiss, she finds herself thinking about you more and more. She’ll show up where you work and compel your co-workers to stay on the floor while you two boom boom boom boom in the back room. When you’re out on a date, she teases you constantly. She doesn’t seem to care that you’re in a public place. She’ll steal you away to a bathroom or closet and you…

-She’ll come over, mouth covered in blood and she’ll use one of your white towels to wipe off. You find yourself incredibly jealous of the fact that she’s feeding on randoms. You ignore her and make food for yourself. She’ll hop up on the counter and eat the veggies you’ve been chopping. She notices that you aren’t greeting her with your normal enthusiasm. With eyes narrowed in suspicion she speaks in a baby voice, “Do you need to talk to a therapist about your feelings?”

 “Funny,” You spit venomously.

 “What the hell is your problem?” She demands, swiping the knife from your hand and gingerly pressing it to your throat.

 You look up into her eyes, “I don’t like it when you feed on people.”

 She makes a face, “Sweetie, I’m a vampire. It’s kind of required.”

 “I mean other people. I don’t like it when you feed on other people,” You say.

 “Other people?” She asks, curiously.

 “Yeah, other people. People who aren’t me,” You said, a little embarrassed now.

 A slight shock spreads across her features, “You want to be my personal blood bag?”

 You push the knife away from your throat. You breezed past the minor insult, “Yes. I…want to be yours. I want to be the only one you feed from.”

 You grab onto the knife and slice a gash on your arm and offer it up to her. The veins in her cheeks rise and her eyes turn scarlet. Her lips part to reveal her fangs and she holds onto your arm and drinks. You’re not quite sure why, but the sight turns you on. She detaches, your blood dripping down from the corners of her mouth. She bites into her wrist and gives it you, you drink without hesitation and your wound heals. You share a rather heated kiss. She smiles against your mouth, “Gotta say, your devotion to me is really hot.”

 “Wanna do it?” You grin back. She hops off the counter and drags you to your bedroom.

-The way she looks at you, her eyes are filled with admiration, even though she’ll never let you see it. She’ll study you, the way you move, and the way you speak. Everything about you draws her in and she’s addicted. She won’t admit it to you, but to her, you’re a drug that she can’t function without. This thought also leads to other issues like aging and human fragility.

-Her worst fear is set in motion when you suffer a rather horrible injury and she isn’t around to heal you. You’re in the hospital, recovering after a lengthy surgery and she busts into the ICU. “Katherine?”

 She tries to hide her fear, “You’re not dead.”

 You attempt to smile, “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

 She grabs onto your hand, “Don’t say that.”

 That’s new. You usually have to use tools to pry off that mask of indifference to see her emotions. “I love you, Katherine.”

 Katherine smiles a little, “I kind of like you too.”

-“Is that your answer, honestly?!” You shout at her.

“You’re human. You break and bleed and die. You’re going to kick it one day, and then what the hell am I supposed to do?” Her ferocity is rather frightening, although you won’t admit it.

 “You’re basically saying that you want to kill me, Kat.” You said, angrily.

 “You’re only ‘dead’ for like an hour and then you wake up,” She says, trying to reason with you.

 “Yeah, but I still have to die!” You exclaimed.

 She slams into you at vampiric speed and pins you to the wall. She’s angry now, “You don’t understand. I can’t lose…You can’t leave me.”

 You can’t help but smirk at her, “Wow, are you telling me how you feel?”

 She glares at you, “Shut up.”

 You kiss her nose.

 “Stop being such a baby and say yes,” She complains. She doesn’t want to take away your free will but she’s getting desperate now and rather annoyed.

 “Make it quick,” You say after a while. She smiles and feeds you her blood, kissing your forehead as you drink. When she thinks you’ve had enough, she pulls away. She lifts her hands to your head and you suck in air before she snaps your neck.

-She catches you as you fall to the ground and puts you on the bed. She waits patiently; switching between watching TV, reading her magazine, and doing her nails. You shoot up in the bed and gasp for air. You look beside you and see Katherine filing her nails, “See? Not that bad.”

 You get off the bed and go to the bathroom, feeling a little sick. The light-bulb is brighter than normal and it’s giving you a headache. You come out and look at your vampire girlfriend who is sitting on the bed watching you through her hair. The ticking clock and dripping kitchen faucet are pounding into your brain at maximum volume and you wince. You grab onto your stomach, “I’m starving.”

 Katherine grins at you and hops off the bed, “Why don’t we go for a bite?”

-You peek around the corner of the alleyway and spot a couple making out. Katherine approaches them, snaps the guy’s neck and sinks her teeth into the girl. She lets the girl go, who is screaming, and she runs towards you. You stop her by grabbing onto her arms and you stare hungrily at the blood that’s running in rivulets down her neck. The scent. The pulsating of her heartbeat in her veins. Thump thump thump thump. It’s too much. You look up at your sire who gives you an encouraging nod. You suction your mouth over the wound on the girl’s neck and begin to drink. It’s probably the single greatest taste in the universe. Hot, thick nectar runs down your throat and you relish in the sensation. Unable to stop yourself, and without protest from Katherine, you drain the girl dry.

 Your victim falls to the ground in a heap and you stare up at Katherine who walks over to you and kisses you hard. A slight pain emerges from your gums as fang protrude. She licks the blood from your lips and smiles, “Well done, little vampire.”

-She vanishes the next day, leaving you trapped in your apartment with the blinds drawn after having burnt yourself in the sunlight. She left you a few blood bags and you try to drink them sparingly. When she returns, she offers you a ring. You make a face, “Where did you go?”

 Katherine shrugs, “A witch owed me a favour. This will allow you to go out in the sun.”

  “Witch too huh?” You query, slipping the ring on your finger. “Is this like a promise ring?”

  Katherine rolls her eyes at you, “Yes, it’s an ‘I promise you won’t burn in the sun with this ring’ ring.”

  You laugh at her, “Close enough.”

-You hunt together all the time. You get the most unreal thrill from it. Catch. Eat. Erase. She adores seeing you give in to your darkness and you two have the absolute best sex after you feed off an innocent. You share your victims but you both eventually tire of their presence all together and start making out while they bleed out on the ground.

 You break the kiss and nod to the victim, “Maybe we should do something about them.”

 “Sure,” She says, hauling them up and snapping their neck.

 You grimace at her, “That’s not what I meant, Kat.”

 She boops your nose, “Well, you weren’t specific.”

-You go after the people on your hit-list. Katherine teaches you more new and exciting ways to inflict suffering upon your enemies and you revel in it. “Please don’t kill me. I’m sorry about what I did to you.”

 Your smirk and crimson eyes turn Katherine on as you close in on your target. “Oh, I’m not going to kill you…yet. Let’s have some fun first.”

 Congratulatory sex from Katherine ensues shortly after.

-Her ‘better you die then I’ rule doesn’t apply to you in any fashion. She makes it very clear that she’d cut down fleets of enemies to see your safety upheld. She’s even stepped in front of a stake that was aimed at you once or twice.

-She eventually opens up and tells you about her life; her child she had out of wedlock, being on the run from Klaus, not wanting to get too close to anyone, all those infuriating doppelgangers. How you are different to her and how you make her feel a little less empty. How she loves everything about you and that if she ever loses you she’ll leave a sea of bodies in her wake to ease her grief. You’re oddly touched by her violent proclamation.

-She gives you a makeover. You look at the black outfits she hands you, “Seriously? I look like a biker.”

 “No, you look like a badass,” She says, sipping blood through straw in a foam cup.

 “Do these jeans have to be so tight?” You complain, looking in the mirror.

 Amusement fills her voice, “Yes.”

 “Why?” You demand.

 “You’ve got a nice ass,” She smirks up at you.

 You blush, “Okay, well I guess that’s acceptable then. You’ve got a nice booty too.”

 “Duh,” She teases, flipping her hair.

-You party a lot, having drinking contests. “I’ve got five hundred years of drinking experience on you, babe.”

 You start to waver a little, trying and failing to stifle a hiccup. “Another shot?”

 Her grin is devious as she compels the bartender to offer you his wrist. “Cheers.”

 You smile and sink your fangs into his flesh without hesitation. Your red eyes sparkle and she kisses you, once again licking the blood from your lips. “Why don’t we have a different kind of drinking contest?”

 You greedily accept her invitation and you both leave a bloody mess all over town, erasing memories along the way.

-She’ll torture you by bending over to pick up things she’s ‘dropped’ and she’ll always look over her shoulder at you seductively. “I’m going to jump you.”

 “Bring it on,” She growls. You speed to her and hoist her up against the wall. She’ll wrap her legs around your waist and your lips connect eagerly. You swallow her moans and she elicits a few from you in return. You proceed to tear each other’s clothes off and bang until the sun comes up.

-“How long are you going to stay with me?” You ask one night while you’re cozied up in bed together. She’s snuggled against you, and you rub her naked back absentmindedly.

 “Until time stops,” She says, rather romantically which always manages to surprise you.

 You kiss the top of her head, “Well, let’s make sure that that never happens then, shall we?”

  She props herself up on her elbow, “Are you suggesting that we rip Father Time’s throat out?”

  You flash your fangs at her, “Throat, or heart, or spinal cord. You choose.”

  She assaults you with kisses and growls hungrily against your mouth. “I fucking love you.”

[cracked-treetopper-angel]

Just a Big Strange Family

Thanks to everyone that’s been encouraging while I’ve been writing this, everyone i’ve bounced ideas off of. Especially @lucifer-in-leather . Hope you enjoy this.

Just A Big Strange Family, Part 2 of Family Made of Blood and Grace

Read part 1:Soldiers or Hunters, They’re Still Human Here

Word count: 2149

Characters: John, Kit (female oc), Sam, Dean, Castiel, Gabriel, Balthazar, Nick (Lucifer)

Warnings: none really, this is pretty much Fluff and Domestic life

John was sweating, it was warm in the work out room. He’d come down because he needed to blow off some steam and there were no current hunts. He set down his water bottle and towel and went about his stretches, he knew better than to start a work out without stretching. He’d made some of his stretches part of his routine as they helped him relax, and kept him from ending up sore after a workout, usually.

It was while he was stretching that kit came in, she’d been expecting the boys and their music not John. She guessed Sam was still out running and didn’t know where Dean was. She heard him counting and guessed it was a timed set. She spoke up so that he didn’t spook when he noticed her, “Hey John.” Which received a nod as he got to his feet. She set about her own stretches.

John glanced over to see that Kit had slipped a pair of tiny earphones into her ears before starting her work out. She was clad pretty much the same as he was, an old t-shirt with the sleeves removed and shorts. He wondered what she was listening to, he knew that she liked rock and country but didn’t know what she liked to work out to. He found a radio on a shelf and managed to get a station, probably the same way he got a phone signal. He found a station playing songs he recognized and left it before beginning his work out.

His work out probably seemed intense sometimes but he’d done more as a marine doing calisthenics or going through boot camp. He did sit ups and push-ups, then pull ups. He decided to end his work out with some practice with the punching bag. He stood by the table and wiped his face off before taking a drink. He poured some on his head, cooling off, and used his towel again before putting both back down and moving to the mat. He couldn’t help but watch kit, who was working her abs, hanging by her legs from the pull-up bar. She reached up, apparently finished, to grab to bar to ease herself down but missed it and slipped, falling and landing on the mat beneath. “Shit.” She said as she lay on the mat, John went over, “You ok?” “I think so. That just hurt.” She said, sitting up and putting a hand on her head. He scooped her up and carried her to the softer sparring mat. He tugged her headphones free before gently turning her head, checking for a concussion. “Might have a headache. How are your hands?” He said.

Kit felt like such an idiot for falling like that. Then she froze when John scooped her up easily, smelling of sweat but also of whiskey and leather in the absence of both. He sat her on the mat and removed her earphones, and she realized he’d turned a radio on. She liked feeling his hands checking her for a concussion. “My hands feel okay.” She said, flexing both hands and rolling her wrists. Nothing hurting but her pride. She looked up at him and found him looking down at her worried. “I’m fine. Like you said, I’ll probably have a headache later but nothing’s hurt but my pride.” This got him to relax some. “Okay.” And he left, taking his water bottle and towel with him. She shut the radio off and headed back to her room for clothes and a shower before going for something to replenish a few spent calories.

John was in his room, back in a pair of sweats after his shower and not sure what to do now. He decided to go get a snack. He padded barefoot into the kitchen and got a cup of coffee, he looked in the fridge as he sipped from his mug. He found milk and eggs and sandwich stuff, he set his coffee down and got the eggs out, he found the bread and toasted a few pieces as he let the eggs cook. He sat his plate on the table and got his mug to put there too then got a glass of milk after putting the eggs up.

Kit went into the kitchen and found John there at the table, eating. She couldn’t see around him to see what though. She fished a bowl from the cabinet and got some cereal. She took the bowl and her mug of coffee over and joined him at the table. “Eggs and toast?” she asked, looking at his plate. “Egg sandwiches.” He said after a mouth full of milk. She saw the yolk on the toast and made a face which made him laugh, a sound that echoed in the empty kitchen. “You get queasy over runny yolks but have no problem with blood?” He asked with a smirk. “There’s a big difference between being covered in blood and gore and eating par-cooked egg yolk.” She said, making a face. He smiled a small smile, they had had all this crap go on lately and here she was ragging him about his choice in food.

—time skip—

The crew of the bunker was crowded into what served as a media room. it had a pair of couches, chairs, a decent sized tv, and a stash of movies; plus, Netflix and a cable hookup. It had space enough for eight people to sit comfortably to watch a movie. They’d decided on Dead Poet’s Society, a Robin Williams flick. Most of the group had seen it or at least heard about it. Yeah, it was a sad movie but it was worth a watch.

John heard both his sons reciting some of the lines as they were prone to do. “Boys, if you’re gonna do that could you at least turn your sound off?” He chastised, jokingly. Sam and Dean immediately shut up. Balthazar was spread out on the floor, as was Nick. Cas, Gabe and the boys were on the large couch, and to Kit, looked cramped but comfortable at the same time. Kit and John were sitting together on the smaller couch. From the outside, it would look like a very large family, two parents and six boys watching a movie together. Sometimes they even acted like a family, it was funny.

–Time Skip—

Kit had drawn the short straw and had ended up having to do the laundry. John was on a grocery run; Sam, Dean and Cas were out on a hunt; she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Balthazar was up to; Gabe either had some urgent business or he’d tagged along with the boys she wasn’t sure; and Nick was here, currently tending to his own chores of straightening up the kitchen and library.

Laundry wasn’t that bad, it could be kind of relaxing sometimes. At least after she fished the dirty clothes out of everyone’s bedrooms and bathrooms, wondering why they didn’t bother with their hampers. Wash, dry, sort, fold. No problems, most everyone had a certain style of clothing or a different taste in brands even if they wore the same size. V-neck was Balthazar’s, band tees are Dean’s, anything abnormally large went to Sam and so on, mix ups went back in a basket in the laundry room marked ‘oops’ and people sorted the confusion from there. She had a few shirts that she wasn’t certain about so she stuck them in the oops basket, and intended to tell the guys. Dress shirts and pants were easy, then there was John’s USMC shirt, she’d found hers and put in her basket already so she put this one in its proper place. The last shirt was one she had no idea who it belonged to, but it looked like one of John’s so she put it there.

She heard the door open and the thud of boots coming down the stairs, the footsteps went into the kitchen where there was a noise of shuffling things around as if he’d had to find somewhere to set the groceries. She wondered what Nick’s version of straightening up the kitchen had entailed. John exited the kitchen and came to find her just finishing with the folding. “That basket’s yours.” Kit said, pointing it out, “Can you help me put these up?” “Sure thing.” John said, leaving his where it was and grabbing Sam and Dean’s “How’s that headache by the way?” He asked, keeping his voice soft, it had been part of the reason they’d let the boys handle this hunt. “Feeling better, took something for it.” She answered as she turned the knob on Dean’s door, letting them in to John’s elder son’s room to drop of a basket. “He’s made himself at home here. That’s good.” Kit could see the look in John’s eyes, almost hear the words he seldom said unless drunk. ‘he hasn’t had much in the way of a home that didn’t have wheels since he and Sam were kids.’ He said once. They left the room and dropped off Sam’s clothes then went back for the others, dropping off Cas and Gabe and finally Balthazar and Nick’s before taking theirs and returning the oops basket to its place.

-The next day-

It was raining out, the thunder echoed through the bunker sometimes even though the only times the rain could be heard was from the war room or library. It made the bunker cool so Kit had no desire to get up until she smelled food. She got out of bed, the blanket wrapped around her, hating the cold floor, and went to the dresser. Finding socks she put them on and then finished dressing and topped it all with a sweatshirt that she’d stolen from John.

“Mornin’.” John said, standing at the stove in a shirt and sweats. “Morning. Coffee?” she muttered, going for the mugs and not finding them in their usual place. “Just a second.” He said, fishing a mug out from the cabinet over the sink, though why they were there only nick would know. “Here babe.” John added, kissing her cheek as he handed over the mug of hot coffee. There was a loud “UUGH” from the entrance to the kitchen followed by a “C’mon dad, not in here.” It was Dean, sporting a damp bedhead, t-shirt and sweats. He must have showered given the way his hair was sticking up. “Mornin’ to you too sport.” John said, setting a plate of pancakes on the table, followed by syrup. “Ya need to talk to L—uh—Nick about not moving things around. I’m having hell finding things.” Dean just nodded as he already had a mouthful of pancakes. That’s when Sam walked in, all messy haired and in only a pair of sweats, “Dude, save some for the rest of us!” Sam exclaimed when he saw his brother plowing through his food. John caught your eye and smiled as he put out more pancakes and set more mugs out. Nick and Cas trailed in a bit later looking like the gloomy weather wasn’t bothering them and only Nick ate while Cas merely drank coffee. The boys knew it was their turn to do dishes and other chores so once both were finished, John and Kit left the room.

“Tell me the truth.” John asked as he pushed the bedroom door shut behind the two of them. “What are you talking about? Kit asked, searching her mind and his eyes for some hint of what he meant. “About the headaches, is anything else going on?” he asked, making her swallow as she thought. “No. it’s just headaches, I haven’t been sleeping very well. I haven’t for a long time.”

The look on his face said that he knew exactly what she meant. She knew he had things that caused him to lose sleep some nights. Most hunters, hell most soldiers did. She shook her head before he could even try to ask if she wanted to talk about it. She’d tried that and the nightmares had gotten worse. “I just do what I can to get my mind off things, try to let my mind clear as much as possible before I go to sleep and it seems like I sleep better, still not good, but better.” She explained. This brought a smirk to John’s face, “Well, there’s plenty of ways to distract and relax you that will clear your mind.” He said, his smirk widening into a smile to rival the Cheshire cat. Kit sighed wondering what he had in mind. “Just give me a bit to set things up and I’ll have it so you can get some of that needed rest, hopefully nightmare free.” He said and she wasn’t sure whether to be intrigued or scared.