#stuff just keeps coming out like desaturated sadness :((

[hallowed-by-thy-name]

obsessed with the idea of the rebel angel being so fascinated with stars that he makes one even though he isn't supposed to. infact all the angels are completely shocked because he shouldn't be able to, how is he possibly doing that? anyway, it gets him on Naomi's radar, and after a time, he'll forget that the part of the sky was his creation at all (of course its the pole star- guide to lost wanderers and hopeless travellers and all).

(click for better resolution ples)

[in-tua-deep]

tua rewatch with the roommate

Episode five

Oh fuck the “I found you. all your bodies.” scene

“We died?” “Horribly.” throwback to the ben convo o o f

“If perfectly arranged under rubble and otherwise unharmed counts as ‘horribly”’  - roommate

I like that Diego says he’s going to kill Hazel and Cha-Cha like it’s a challenge?? lol five doesn’t care if they live or die he only cares if u do you big dumbass

“Well I know none of the main characters die bc there’s a season 2... and i’m pretty sure they’re all in s2... like all of the family?”

I mean luther is kind of valid for being frustrated that five didn’t share about the apocalypse but also like,,, the first person five told about it (Vanya) suggested he might be insane. so. i can understand some reluctance on his part on top of the whole “the last time my siblings fought this the Whole World Died Including Them i would like them as far away from apocalypse stuff as possible”

okay okay so five says “they turned me into the perfect instrument” so do y’all think that implies experimentation like in the comics or ????

all i can think about during the kennedy scene though is my high school history teacher. he went over the assassination in intimate detail and i’m pretty sure he was writing a book about it and everything. mr. hansen if you’re out there - 

i like feral beard five more than mustache five tbh if i’m picking 

“Someone ELSE shot the president? Was he supposed to shoot kennedy or was he supposed to kill the person who shot kennedy?” - Roommate

love that five tells luther to grow up over murder,,, though to be valid pretty sure they did actually murder people as kids SO. grow down?

fuck i love mary,, will you love me like you loved me in the january rain??? just shoot me in the heart

GOD rob is such a good actor

“wait a second... how is he wearing pants?” oh roommate you have a big storm coming

i have some serious questions about the commission and their methods of communication. where do?? the tubes come from? where do they go after?

Allison: i have a bad feeling [about leonard]

where are these instincts for everything else tho??? her marriage?

“Vanya. she really is trying to look out for you. i really would trust her. you could invite her to come along so she can see he’s perfectly fine??” - Roommate, whose instincts regarding not trusting leonard-harold are spot on

apparently my roommate knows people who put salt in their coffee. i have. so many questions.

��That’s suspicious?? that’s suspicious right?? did he do that? is he a secret serial killer? is he a FUCKING secret serial killer?” roommate when they talk about helen cho going missing

“What do you mean stop showing up it’s been like. a day” - I mean. the roommate has a point. 

Klaus’s depression bath is a mood :(

did klaus put eye shadow on before his bath or did he get his hands on eye shadow in vietnam?? the questions that will never be answered

Five is so enthusiastic about having someone who understands... he doesn’t even notice absolutely Not Being In The Mood,, klaus is grieving and five is just like !!! where did you go!!!! like it was a vacation

klaus: yeah i’m ten months older now. when i’m done being depressed i will lord that over diego for the rest of our natural lives.

does five write in all caps all the time?? why? 

roommate: I wonder what the upper size limit on the knives her can use. like is it machete length? forearm length? what are the limits on his powers. if he sharpened a very sharp mechanical pencil could he use it? if he sharpened a piece of the chandelier? at what point does something become a knife?

me: could he hurl mia (my cat)? mia and her knife feet?

allison also writes in all caps to write leonard’s address

we stan agnes and hazel in this household

“I never said we didn’t !! i just thought she was just a random extra in the first episode and every time we cut away i think that’s the last we’ve seen of her” - roommate because i keep saying that this is an agnes stan household

“OH THERE’S THE PATCHWORK COAT i was afraid it didn’t come back” - okay though good question he definitely didn’t have the coat on the bus. what is it with klaus and his magically appearing coat????

oh :(  oh klaus :(  every time klaus is sad i am also sad :(

honestly a family conversation IS the threat in this family

god though this random vet in this bar is actually an asshole though like. klaus doesn’t owe him shit. klaus served. he’s clearly having a moment with the photo. that could have been a family member or something who died i don’t even know

agnes: i’m a twitcher :)

“like a twitch streamer?” -Roommate

PLEASE give me twitch streamer!Agnes au

look i just enjoy hazel and agnes

roommate: honey you’re too young for her

me: NO DON’T BE MEAN TO THEM,,, agnes deserves a boytoy

“does diego drive a manual?” my roommate once again focusing on things that i do not

five: i have to find the people whose deaths could save the timeline

my roommate: is it agnes?? is he going to kill agnes????

i’m still laughing about that fact that luther is holding dolores.... over the fire escape... she couldn’t drop that far lads

luther’s dumb sometimes but he does have some nice heart to hearts with his brother,,,, honestly he and five get along pretty well in the early episodes. kindred spirits. body dysmorphia and isolation squad.

my roommate has to keep remembering social media doesn’t exist in this universe

i am still confused as to why

that won’t stop me from giving everyone iphones and youtube accounts in my aus though

diego can curve ANYTHING he throws, usually knives, according to cha-cha’s research. but that doesn’t explain the spoilers i have seen about s2 sO

Klaus: You also told me that licking a nine volt battery would give me pubes

HOW DID I FORGET THAT LINE

oh diego got a bullet graze forgot about that as well?? does he ever get like. medical attention for that? diego?????

it really has been like. maybe two days since helen cho died. is no one??? concerned????? they just immediately jump into replacing her??????????????????? hellO? 

“very clear camera angles to show that this actress did not actually play the violin for this role” - i mean that’s fair but ellen is trying rip

me: who’s your favorite character so far?  roommate: that’s a tricky question. klaus is very entertaining to watch. allison is the most reasonable and i’m very interested to know, well, she seems like the best combination of reasonable and has the least selfish intentions. diego and luther i feel like are both good in a bland way in that they’re both doing good in the best way they can which usually involves punching people. five is fun. five is very fun. five is as fun to watch as klaus, they’re both very fun actors to watch on screen. they’re more expressive than diego and luther tend to be.  me: so which is your favorite?????  roommate: first instinct says allison, though she probably has the least dynamic or interesting arc so far

are hazel and cha-cha the best because their victims never see them coming?? like. they aren’t really THAT competent.

“I do LOVE the aesthetic of an ice cream truck playing ride of the valkyries” - my roommate is valid

“LOVE the hypersaturated background in this scene. it’s more fun that having it be desaturated.”

five looks so baby in this scene with the handler :(

still unsure where five got that handgun but i’m vibing

hate when she touches his face !! awful!!!

the handler’s little “all of them??” like yeAH ALL OF THEM even though they irritate the living FUCK out of each other. siblings man

ben gets shotgun for the getaway !!! go ben!

“I’m starting to think... given how space and reality seemed to be warping during her playing... that her medication... isn’t for anxiety...” - oh, oh roommate

ah i blocked out the leonard vanya make out as well

“DIDN’T YOU MEET HIM TWO DAYS AGO?” - yeah i feel u roommate

yup there’s helen’s body

“CSI call crime scene investigation - that’s going to start to smell real soon”

pogo: and you understand that the children can never know

me: actually pogo fuck you

and that’s episode 5 everyone thank you and goodnight

episode six

i do love a good flashback to klaus

klaus: sees a shirtless soldier and instantly falls in love

they don’T EVEN QUESTION HIM just “KATZ GET THIS MAN A PAIR OF PANTS” and they go with it?? he just APPEARED and they don’t even care

klaus was really just vibing in the 60s huh

wait this is like 1962 or 63 right

when does s2 take place?? also the 60s right???

didn’t kennedy die in 1963 i feel like what i know about s2 contradicts that date but i could have sworn they said a round trip to 1963??????

luther is SUCH A MOOD in the family briefing.

“aww he’s a bad liar” - roommate

“I realize that [the umbrella] was necessary for the title drop but where the fuck did that come from”

@ the handler please stop touching five,,, but also five has such. non reactions to her touching him. which worries me. like she grabs his shoulder walking alongside him and he doesn’t even look at her

why are there gas masks in the briefcase room...

can you IMAGINE if your boss toted a child into the room and introduced him as the Legendary Time Travelling Assassin that the whole office had a betting pool over who would die that one time and is Definitely approaching 60 not 13... and then called him LEADERSHIP MATERIAL. implying that this child will probably get a promotion before you do?? can you IMAGINE?

“again... two days ago...” roommate about leonard and vanya

vanya really chose literally just the worst time to come back to the academy huh

okay but vanya going off?? valid, but also,, i mean. it IS their dads fault that they don’t have any relationship with vanya?

luther: it’s about the moon  roommate: critical role moon theory

hey like. how did the family get together in the first timeline holy fuck. it’s hard enough to get them together when they Literally Know The World Is Going To End

so remember diego getting grazed with a bullet yeah well he has a sling on now which makes sense!! and yet. when five got grazed by a bullet he SLAPS A BANDAID ON IT. someone please address this.

five is such an asshole coworker i love it

i wonder if dot is a mother. or just a nice coworker. she keeps trying to talk to him and invite him to lunch aww

i wonder if it’s purposeful on the handler’s part to call him “mr. five” instead of “mr. hargreeves” to like... further isolate him from his family? by removing his last name they’re sort of removing his ties to his siblings considering it’s not like they’re related by blood

forgot how much i hate the bathroom scene !! wow !! hate it so much!!! there’s so many violations of social etiquette in such a short scene! it’s so deeply uncomfortable!

luther: stop it pogo! you know everything our dad did

i am remembering once again how much i hate pogo all over again!! reginald literally locked klaus in a mausoleum!! he abused the kids! pogo didn’t even speak up about sending luther to the MOON,,, oh luther :(

he just learned his dad exiled him for no reason he has lots of rights his entire world view was just shattered wow i am like infinitely more sympathetic to luther on the second watch

“I knew allison and luther was a thing. you told me allison and luther was a weird thing. still not a fan.” - my very valid roommate

they could have made the fort so much more sibling-y instead of romantic and it would have been so much better honestly

oh dave :(

“I wonder who her primary care physician is and if she can find out what that medication was...” roommate i wish i knew

“I’m trying to decide if he knew ahead to time to try and get at her specifically or like... i don’t know when he took the figurine I was like ‘doesn’t he own an antique shop is he there to steal antiques from the family home’.” roommate on leonard

forgot the handler gifted five a suit. also don’t like that. don’t like her talk about his body and everything either.

“is it too much to ask to give him two outfits? one he can wear now and one with the new body?” - roommate

honestly with hazel’s talk on budget cuts i’m not surprised he only gets one suit

STOP TOUCHING HIS FACE,,,, HANDLER. STOP TOUCHING HIS FACE

five and his sweet tooth. don’t take the candy five. come on. what did your father TEACH YOU. honestly reggie probably was like “let them get kidnapped it will probably teach them a life lesson”

“there were like... villages that needed rebuilding after disasters. he could have been sending these packages to legit lunar research facilities. legit facilities would have adored to have that information.” 

okay but people KNEW he was on the moon. cha-cha mentioned it. it was in vanya’s book. why were scientists not knocking down reginald’s door demanding the research??? if i was a moon scientist i would have the mansion staked out trying to demand info jesus

“love his eye fluttering in the way of ‘oh shit i got something in my eye i can’t break character scene is still going scene is stILL GOING’“ - hilarious observations from the allison luther fort scene 2.0: grown up version that gets erased

did they just leave the fort up all those years. did no one USE the green house??? did grace lovingly work around it all that time?

oh :(  dave :(

grace is capable of lying and pogo is a shadowy motherfucker

“okay now that they’re actually putting it into the plot i understand why you don’t think he’s trustworthy but you really got on my back about that”

in my defense i just hate him tbh i did not like him when he first showed up and i never particularly liked him tbh

allison: i think you’re the only person who knows who i am and likes me anyway

me, remembering the theory that allison rumored luther to love her: HMMMMMM

okay but i think the luther and allison dance scene is fucking HILARIOUS. absolutely ridiculous. i mean i hate that it’s incest but also the fucking LIGHTS DESCENDING. the RANDOM WARDROBE CHANGE. 

roommate likes the green underskirt thing under allison’s random dance dress

are they just doing this in public???

ugh. the kiss. ugh. erased that from my memory as well

“they clearly want romance in this show but they painted themselves into a corner with the siblings thing” - roommate

five and his fucking STAPLERS isn’t this the second time he’s knocked someone out with a stapler?? the bank robber and now gloria??

five please your siblings were finally doing some decent work on their own issues :/

five is the kind of dramatic as fuck entrances 

“love how he just grabs [allison’s] coffee. kid needs a coffee after all that.” - roommate

five actually does a good job of rallying the siblings though?? they just broke the fuck up in the og timeline

“something tells me that harold jenkins might be leonard”

oh roommate

episode seven

uh oh harold was born

i feel vaguely bad for him

“me the night before a convention” - roommate on harold’s tape and cosplay and everything

okay but how did reginald even KNOW harold jenkins had no powers?? did he? keep tabs on all the forty some kids not just the seven he kept?

but also why the fuck are these people laughing at An Actual Child fuck all of them honestly

“did HE kill hargreeves?? I mean. he’s got motive.�� - roommate

harold really said “i think my superpower is actually this hammer motherfucker”

how did he get twelve years?? was he tried as an adult?? was he in juvie? how old WAS he

twelve years ago... they’re 29 soooo seventeen? he did NOT look seventeen? he was NOT seventeen in that flashback what???

roommate theorizes that harold ran off after the murder and committed petty crimes until caught and tried for murder when he was seventeen so was maybe 13 in the flashback

okay so i looked up the timeline and he got out in 2014 or something so he was like 13 in the flashback which makes SO much more sense honestly but also what the FUCK was he doing for five years

“he’s actually laying out all the facts as he knows them and I appreciate that.” -roommate about five briefing the team

five?? the only member of the family with communication skills? it’s? somehow more likely than you think?

“allison’s pants that she’s wearing now are the most perfectly tailored things i’ve ever seen. not even a wrinkle when she’s standing still. do you know how hard that is to do?” again my roommate noticing the things i absolutely do not

five. five. you have a GUT WOUND and also jumped a BUNCH OF TIMES. you are not blinking into the police station and getting the file. you need some SLEEP. and REST. and WOUND CARE FIVE FOR FUCK’S SAKE. you still have a GUNSHOT GRAZE on your upper arm and a SLICE on your wrist from DIGGING OUT A TRACKER. FIVE.

diego wants to be batman SO BAD.

five crossing his arms and Not Uncrossing Them because he’s literally HOLDING HIMSELF TOGETHER.

wow luther is really handling this so much worse in this timeline rip

luther is losing validity points for CHOKING KLAUS i knew this happened but i didn’t remember how awful it was !!! bad and terrible! and luther is very drunk and very sad and very angry. oh. he’s saying he never left the house and never had friends for nothing :(

klaus had the realization that reggie was an asshole YEARS ago and he’s just kind of like “aww. luther :(” 

klaus is trying so hard

“Klaus has had the most heart to hearts with the most siblings honestly.” - roommate

allison at the beginning making her laugh in the office with the EYES, five on the steps of meritech, diego after the vet bar, luther on the couch...

wow cha cha really thought hazel was talking about how meaningful his partnership was with her when he was talking about agNES

five limping up the lawn and staggering up the stairs and clinging to the rails baBY SIT DOWN. YOU ARE BLEEDING.

“inspiring leadership” “one of the greats” what a sibling moment honestly.

five really said “i think i will pass the fuck out now”

five really said “hey i am literally willing to die for this mission because this mission is the safety and lives of my entire family and i love you guys :(”

except he doesn’t because five is decent at information sharing but getting feelings out of him feels like pulling teeth at times smh

is leonard trying to vicariously live his “normal child born on the umbrella academy day discovers they have had powers the WHOLE TIME” dream through vanya??

we yell about how leonard and vanya have known each other for like a week but i mean same for hazel and agnes!! he’s literally asking her to run away with him and she says yes !!!!! agnes is here for the romantic adventure with this man she’s really living her first hot girl summer and living for it

“she’s having her own little rom com! she thinks she’s living in a rom com not a dark sci fi!” - roommate accurate as usual

she just called ben the emotional support ghost and i mean... she ain’t wrong

honestly klaus should have just left luther to his rave, he didn’t get to party in his teens or during his college years or anything

i do appreciate the viking yell of “B R O T H E R” that luther greets klaus with though because that’s exactly how i greet my own siblings whenever i see them

oh klaus :(

oh klaus :(

he’s having war flashbacks, cravings, is in withdrawal, AND experiencing sensory overload while reliving one of the more traumatizing moment of his life

oh klaus :(

five in a bed for the second time of the season which is nice for him. if only the first time wasn’t because he passed out drunk and the second time wasn’t because of a whole shrapnel wound. i am now that captain of the Let Five Sleep brigade holy SHIT like at least they imply that the others sleep five is just feral and ready to go at all times

are the police allowed to just. remove someone’s arm sling? is that permitted? his arm could be fucked up? i mean. it is? he was shot?

“I saw everything my brothers and sister could do ruin their lives” VANYA some REALIZATION up in here,,,, admitting that the umbrella academy wasn’t exactly a desirable place to be is actually some real growth for her and leonard just fucking shuts her down? fuck that man

VANYA SEE THE RED FLAGS FOR WHAT THEY ARE COME ON

oh klaus :(  oh luther :(  oh :(

“love his corset side pants, like benedict from violet evergarden” - on the topic of Klaus’s pants

“I made everyone else so I must have made you” says god except for the fact that the kids just... surprise popped up instead of coming about the natural way. maybe god DIDN’T made them????????

oh klaus :(  prepare for disappointment :(

oh i didn’t notice the photos of the umbrella academy in the barbershop the first time i watched this

so klaus gives an age for the mausoleum... thirteen... do you think that was before or after five left? statistically it’s probably after bc it was only a couple of months after they turned thirteen that five vanished

Klaus’s “we were just kids” breaks my heart every time

if i was one of reggie’s kids i would have just not gone to the funeral. rip to the hargreeves kids but i’m different

he doesn’t even call klaus klaus in death, he still calls klaus number four. fuck that man.

“i was gonna say i’d have been very very surprised if they kept him dead” - roommate on klaus waking up

“Five bucks says he set these guys up to try and get something out of her” - the roommate being very perceptive

cha cha is VERY rude to my girl agnes

honestly why DIDN’T hazel just kill cha cha after her whole speech and threats about killing agnes slowly in front of him???? like he literally watched her try to kill him as well

why wasn’t diego arrested in the original day that wasn’t actually?? he was being considered already. he still left the house, albeit with grace instead of allison. why wasn’t he arrested then???????? 

roommate thinks it’s interesting how committed the show is to their old timey shit. she used a nicer words like anachronisms but the point is: w h y

are these episodes even longer than i remember?? holy SHIT

[forlornmelody]

Kord Center Mall: Out In The Rain, In From The Cold

Rating: E (the nerdiest smut you’ll read all week.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics, Jack Nought from Mass Effect makes an appearance, but familiarity with the game is not important

Ship: Rose Wilson/Jason Todd, mentions of Jason/Roy/Jack

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:  Rose is finally ready to come clean with Jason, and admit the feelings she has for him. But is it too late?

Note: This is a cross over, mall-verse AU concocted by @scifi-ginger and myself. You’ve been warned. Also,  I just want to state, for the record, that I wrote this before Titans: E.L._.O. hit the internet. I have the Tumblr snippets to prove it.

–>–>

The ground’s so dry when she leaves Cassie’s, Rose doesn’t even think to grab a jacket on the way. By the time she reaches Jason and Roy’s apartment, the sky’s dumping car-wash levels of water on the bus. Even though it only takes her five minutes to walk to the building, Rose’s clothes are sticking to her when she rings the doorbell. Lightning cracks in the clouds behind her. 

Opening the door, Roy’s face flashes bright and dark as the thunder rolls around them. “Rose.”

“Roy.” Rose takes a breath. “Hey. Uh--”

“Fuck off,” Jack calls from the couch. “Jason doesn’t want to see you.”

Yeah. She deserves that. “Could you at least tell him I’m here?” Rose says it to Roy, not Jack. 

Lighting flashes two more times before Roy sighs. “Fine.” He holds up a hand to keep Jack back. “But I swear if you hurt him again--”

“Fuck, Roy. I’m here to apologize.” Rose glances at Jack as she steps gingerly through the doorway. “Nice to see you, too. Jack flips a finger in response. 

Just as Rose knocks on Jason’s door, the power goes out. “Oh come on!” Jason yells from the other side of the door, and she hears the crash of a controller hitting the floor and the rolling of batteries as they fall out. 

Rose has perfect timing. She clears her throat, reaching to knock a second time when Jason opens the door. His cellphone casts soft grey light along his jaw and highlights the sheen on his nose. “If you’re an axe-murderer, I’ll--Rose!?”

“Hey,” she says softly, pulling out her own phone to cast some light---only to realize it died on the way here. “Shit.” Better not fuck this up. 

Jason lingers in his doorway, his eyes roaming over her like she’ll vanish any second. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

“Yeah. Me either.” Rose dares to step closer, looking up at him. “Can I come in?” Jason hesitates ever so slightly, but it’s enough to kick Rose in the gut. She deserves that, too. 

“Sure.” He steps to the side, swinging his arm wide. Jason never kept a tidy room. Rose would constantly remake the bed before she left. If she brought pizza, she’d have to clear off the beer bottles and carefully move the bong out of the way. But Jason always took care of his books--bookmarking them, closing them gently and sorting them on the shelves by genre, author, title, routinely cleaning them with a fucking feather duster. At this point, Jason doesn’t even have a bedroom--he has a personal library with a bed in it. Right now--it looks like a tornado had swept through the shelves. 

“Fuck.” Rose muttered under her breath, frozen in the doorway. 

“Did you come here to talk, or to judge me?” Jason folds his arms, and Rose notices the bags under his eyes for the first time. She’s reaching to push the hair from his eyes before she catches herself. 

“To apologize,” Rose says quickly, ducking inside before Jason can change his mind. She finds a Complete Works of William Shakespeare lying open in the middle of his bed. Obviously, it’s too dark to read, but she’d know the size and thickness of that book anywhere. One of Jason’s favorites. 

Rose sets it aside, sitting on the edge of the bed with one foot draped across her lap. Jason lingers by the door, but he does close it behind him. His eyes track the movement of the book before daring to glance at her again. “Why’d you come back?”

“I missed you.” Rose says. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, she chants over and over in her brain, but “sorry” doesn’t feel good enough right now. Jason deserves the world, and Rose is just a tiny island wracked with storms. 

Jason’s eyes soften ever so slightly before they harden--cold as steel. “Missed what, exactly?”

Rose allows herself a small smile. Jason loves the big questions--meaning of life, origins of the universe, whether true love exists--he always has his head up in the clouds. Meanwhile Rose stands back on earth--rooted in doing things--going, doing, fucking, eating, breathing. The thunder outside nearly drowns out her words. “I missed the way your eyes change color when you’re angry, happy, or sad. The way you smile when you think no one is looking.” She itches to get closer to him--show him exactly how much he means to her, but it’s not her choice to make. “The way you forget the world around you when you’re reading.” Her voice thickens, with love or want--she isn’t sure. “The way your face lights up when Roy comes in the room.” 

Is it still raining? Rose isn’t sure. All she can hear is the thundering of her pulse in her ears and the sound of their breathing. Jason still hasn’t said a word or moved an inch--him and his fucking poker face. 

At first Rose thinks her eyes are straining to see him in the darkness, but then she feels a tear slip down her cheek. Damnit. This is why she doesn’t do this stuff. Love, real love, hurts. “I realized I didn’t want to live without that. I didn’t want to live without you. I don’t want to.” Jason probably can’t even understand what she’s saying at this point, with the way her breath keeps shaking her voice.

Jason finally looks away, and Rose nods to herself. Figures. It’s too late for them. It’s always too late. “Sorry,” she mutters, standing up and wiping her nose and eyes. It’s gonna be a bitch getting home in this weather, but she’ll manage. Rose always does. She’s halfway to the door when Jason grabs her hand. 

“Where’re you going?” he says softly, squeezing her hand. 

“I…” I’m going home, Rose says in her mind, but the words don’t ring true. She turns, daring to face him. “Not sure.” 

“Stay.” Jason tugs her ever so slightly, and she falls into his arms like she just jumped off a building. He reeks. Always has. Like dank weed and cheap beer. Rose wouldn’t have him any other way. 

“Jerk my arm why don’t you?” His laugh rumbles against her chest and she pulls back just enough to look at his face. Rose traces his features with her fingertips, reacquainting herself with the tip of his nose, the jut of his eyebrows, the firmness of his lips. 

Everything’s so desaturated in the dim room, but Jason’s eyes shine the brightest blue. “I love you, too.” 

Rose couldn’t tell who kissed who first. She’s too busy tasting his mouth and messing with his hair. Jason breaks for air, only to pay careful attention to where her jaw meets her neck. His hands roam her shoulders, arms, sides and stomach as if he can’t get enough of her. He has far too many clothes on. No zipper on Jason’s hoodie, so Rose lifts it to his shoulders, but he gets tangled in the sleeves. “Candles,” Rose says hoarsely. 

Jason peeks at her blankly through the bottom of his hoodie. 

“Please tell me you have some. Jack’s surely got enough to set the apartment on fire but I’m not keen on asking her tonight.”

“Be right back.” Jason frees himself of his shirt and hoodie, slipping out the door shirtless. 

Rose sits on the bed, unable to sit still, still humming with the thrill of his touch. She glances back at the Tome, and switches Jason’s phone’s flashlight on so she can finally read it. Jason has it open to Sonnet 87, 

“Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,

And like enough thou knowst thy estimate.

The Charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;

My bonds in thee are all determinate.

For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,

And for that riches where is my deserving?”

Rose swallows, reaching to close the book when Jason comes back inside--his arms full of candles. He freezes when he realizes what she's reading.

“Oh, hey. Lemme take care of that.” Jason sets the candles on his tv stand, reaching for the book.

Rose swats his hand. “Candles.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason replies. “Fine. Fine.” 

Leaning back, Rose watches as the candles, lit one by one, cast a soft glow along the lines of Jason’s body. She doubts she’ll ever tire of the view. 

Lighting the last candle, Jason whisks around, lighter still in his hand. He nods down at the book. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Interesting choice. Real depressing.” Rose kicks her heels against his box spring. 

Setting the lighter aside, Jason grins slowly. “Actually. Hold on a sec.” He kneels, clearing a space on the floor. 

Rose stares at him. “No. Absolutely not. Your floor is a fucking mess.” 

“Don’t worry. You won’t be touching it.” Space cleared, Jason glances up at Rose. “Hand me Shakespeare.”

“Whatever.” Rose hefts it over, eyes widening as Jason sets it reverently in the space he cleared. “You’re shitting me.”

Jason snickers, shaking his head. “C’mon. The book may be hard, but the pages are soft.”

“Oh my god. I’m couching you for that.” Rose chides, but she gets down from the bed anyway. She glances at him one last time before sitting gently between the pages. 

“Better.” Jason’s eyes have darkened to a warm green. The fact that a dead playwright and poet makes him all hot and bothered never ceases to amuse her. “Lean back.”

Rose rolls her eyes, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it beneath her arms. 

Jason makes quick work of Rose jeans, shucking them off and tossing them across the room. Rose snorts as they take down a couple bottles in their fall. “Tell me if you’ve heard this one before.” His grins as he lowers himself to her neck. 

“What’s in a name?” Jason murmurs into her skin, his voice as reverent as a priest’s on Sunday. His fingers drag the zipper of her soaked hoodie down her chest, and goosebumps prick across her skin. 

“That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet.” Jason lavishes attention where her neck meets her shoulder, and Rose’s so caught up in his touch she almost doesn’t catch the reference. Almost. 

“Romeo and Juliet? Really?” she snorts, pulling back to give him a look of disdain. “Most overrated play ever.” 

“It’s a classic.” Jason pouts, his fingers edging underneath her t-shirt--a suitable challenge with the way the fabric sticks to her skin. He dives to kiss her collarbone. “And it has your name in it.”

“Jace, they off themselves because they’re impatient hormonal teenagers.” A moan slips from her mouth as he kisses from her waist to her chest, pushing her shirt up and out of the way. “It’s not romantic.”

Dragging the shirt and her bra up and over her head, Jason grins at her. Oh, he knows. “So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d.” 

“Do you put Jack and Roy through this? Or am I special?”

Jason doesn’t linger on her breasts, just moves her damp bra off her skin, hanging it on one of his bedposts. “Retain that dear perfection with he owes.” He plants a reverent kiss in the valley between them. 

“I am special, aren’t I?” Rose groans, for more reasons than one. 

Instead of answering, Jason snickers against her skin, breathing her in. “Without that title. Romeo doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee,”

Rose has another comeback coming, somewhere, but it’s hard enough trying to keep her breathing steady the farther south Jason travels with his mouth. He stops just north of her thighs, grinning up at her. “Oh, come on, already,” she groans again, letting her head fall back.

Jason wets his lips and tongue, waiting for her to look at him again. Once he has her full attention, he whispers, “Take all myself.”

Then he plants a kiss against her clit, and Rose shudders despite herself. “Really? You think some, some poetry is gonna, oh.” 

She can feel his grin as he toys with her licking gently around but never quite touching where she wants him most. His hair musses in her fingers as he kisses deeper, harder, licking her with nice, long strokes. Jason moans with her, the hum reverberating across her skin. Rose’s hips rise off the book and Jason holds her down with one arm. Pausing, Jason licks one finger, then another, and Rose can’t help but cry out his name as they thrust in and out of her while he lavishes attention on her clit. Fuck, she’s probably tearing his hair out, but she can’t help it. Now she’s so close she’s--

Jason pulls back, kissing her thigh, and Rose curses him and half his family. “I take thee at thy word:”

Fuck her, she’s pleading, pulling him back. “Jace, please. I need.”

Snickering, Jason plants a soothing kiss on her thigh before gathering her hands to her right side, holding them still. “Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized;” he murmurs as he wets his lips again. Something in her belly roils as she realizes what he’s planning. 

Mm, yeah, Jack and Roy definitely heard that scream. Let them, Rose thinks, until she can’t anymore, so focused on Jason’s feather light touch against her clit. She’s so close to falling right off the cliff when he pulls back again. This time, Rose bites her tongue, shaking as she waits for him to continue. 

Jason watches her come down from the brink, his smile wide (and his lips covered in her slick), and his eyes bright. Part of Rose wants to hide from that look--she doesn’t deserve it--she’ll break his heart--he’ll find out what she’s really like and he won’t look at her like that any-- Squeezing her hands, Jason pulls Rose from her thoughts, and she swallows hard as she allows her walls to come crashing down. “Jason, I--”

“Shh. We’re almost there,” he whispers, kissing her hands, squeezing them again. Waiting until she’s relaxed again, Jason leans down one last time, his words barely audible, “Henceforth I never will be Romeo.” He brings her back slowly, using his fingers as well as his tongue, seemingly touching her anywhere and everywhere at once. Sliding one finger inside her, then another, he closes his eyes, gracing her with long, slow licks, pumping and curling. Rose isn’t even sure what sounds are coming out of her mouth anymore, as her hips rise and fall with his fingers.

Her world flashes whiter and hotter than lightning. 

Maybe seconds pass, maybe hours, when Rose finally opens her eyes. The candles have nearly guttered out, and Jason lies, with his clothed legs intertwined with her bare ones. Rose should pay him back for that--when she finds the energy. She leans her forehead against his, murmuring. “Power still out?”

“Yeah.” Jason reaches out, trailing a hand down her bare back. 

“You need to clean off the bed before the candles burn out.”

Jason groans, holding her tighter. “Fine.” He releases her standing up stiffly and reaching for the stuff scattered across his bed. “Love you too, Rose,” he muttered under his breath. 

Rose sits up quickly, grabbing his hand. “Wait.”

Looking down at her in exasperation, Jason asks blankly, “What?”

“I love you.” The words feel so strange coming off her tongue, but Rose knows them to be true. “Meant to say it earlier but you were too busy going down on me and quoting lines to listen.”

Jason pulls her to her feet, and into a kiss. “You can say it whenever you want.”

Rose’s so busy tasting herself on his lips she almost doesn’t notice the hiss of the guttering candles. “Shit.”

“What?” Jason pulls back, looking around at nothing. “Fuck.”

[lucimorningstar812]

Reconnecting

A/N: So, I may or may not have written my first sides fic. I don’t remember where this idea came from, but as always, I usually free write this stuff because the ideas just come to me

SUMMARY: After Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts, Remus is hurt by what his brother said and seeks out their old room TW: it’s basically fluff with some of Remus’s generally weird comments thrown in

“I don’t like him”

“It shows you everything you don’t wanna be”

The creativitwins had always had a rocky relationship. Contrary to popular belief, they were never one being that split, but rather close knit brothers that loved each other dearly. They shared everything, including a room, until Thomas began to grow up and Patton’s sense of morality became stronger. It lead to a literal split between the two. They got separate rooms, separate things, separate styles and separate parts of imagination to encompass, Roman taking the light and fluffy while Remus was left with all things twisted and terrible

And that’s how they remained when the light and dark segregation took place. Creativity, morality and logic were praised as the light sides, while anxiety, deceit and intrusive thoughts were cast aside as dark sides. Remus found new friends and a new life, taking delight in how disgusted people were when he was around and word vomiting all of his morbid ideas (or literal vomiting if he so chose)

So why did those lines bother him so much? Why when his brother, who he hadn’t properly spoken to in so long, said that he didn’t like him and saw him as all the thing he didn’t want him to be.... why did it crush him?

Remus retreated, disguising his exit as simply going to his room after the video, but instead, he ventured farther into Thomas’s mind to find things long forgotten. Facts once memorised for tests, faces and names of people he may never encounter again and a few darker memories were amongst the figurative and literal trash pile covering the dark expanse, but one thing really stood out; the ornate door hidden in the corner

Slowly approaching, Remus felt himself start to tear up. He hadn’t been here in so long, and he wondered if Roman even remembered this place anymore; a place that was once filled with chirping birds, green trees and the occasional lighting bolt striking an animal and turning it to ash. Now, it contained nothing more than forgotten things, just like the room he was about to enter

The door opened automatically, revealing a dismal scene. A child’s room full of toys, scattered among the floor like they had just been part of an amazing adventure only seconds before, and a bunk bed with sheets tucked around the mattresses and duvets neatly on top. A couple of destroyed teddies were the remains of a great war, and the needle and thread beside them showed the work of a kind soul ready to put them back together. It hadn’t changed, except the colour had desaturated and the light had dimmed over time. Why was this dismal? Because Remus had expected to see a dusty, old room, not somewhere he used to call his safe place that was almost exactly he same as it was the day of the split

Though one thing that was strikingly different was that the closet door was open, and a quiet sobbing was coming from inside. Clearly someone was here, and they hadn’t heard him enter, so he tried to sneak over and scare whoever dared come to this place...

Only to find his brother curled up, knees to his chest and head in his hands, clutching one of the patched up bears Remus remembered they had made from their favourite individual ones to make the ultimate bear ‘A way for us to stay together, always’ Roman had giggled as Remus cut the arms and legs off his favourite bear, ready for Roman to sew them to the discarded torso and head of his own

“I thought you’d forgotten this place,” Remus finally spoke, his voice much softer than Roman had heard that day He looked up, eyes bloodshot and cheeks red, and smiled sadly “Heh, I thought the same of you.” Remus unceremoniously threw himself into the floor, his head landing on his brothers lap as he squealed and stretched out his legs “I’m sorry about what I said.” Remus was shocked at his brothers apology. He was even more shocked when he smiled down at him, more tears in his eyes, and whispered “I missed you”

Remus was speechless for the first time in his existence. He hadn’t realised he was crying until he wiped his cheek and saw the remained of his makeup in his hand ‘Damn, maybe Dee was right about waterproof makeup’ he thought before laughing; a quiet, breathy and sad laugh “Well I didn’t miss you,” he teased, before jumping up and offering a tentacle, that came from somewhere but Roman didn’t want to know where, to his brother to help him to his feet He refused, of course

“It did hurt a little” “I said I was sorry. I got a little embarrassed you see” “Of little ol’ me? That’s cute, Princey” “Hush, Dukey. We were having a moment!” “A moment to consider how high up you can jump from and be able to survive the fall?” “No! God, I take it back! I didn’t miss you” “You looooove me bro” “I most certainly do not!” “You’re a worse liar that Dee, and he can be pretty bad sometimes”

The two continued to bicker and laugh. just like old time. They cleared away their old toys, recounting the adventures of ‘Timothy the brave and broken toy soldier’ as he tried to free the enslaved race of former unicorns who’s horns had been removed (which was just a bunch of plastic unicorns Remus had de-horned so he could make a pair of spiked gloves with the horns). They cleared up the remains of multiple bears, Roman insisting on taking them and finally sewing them back together. Remus even found their old beanbags stashed in a corner and brought them out, claiming they would never know if insects had laid eggs inside. Roman chose not to sit on his at that point and instead opted for the bottom bunk; Remus’s bunk

“So...” Roman started “I’m sorry too,” Remus muttered, “I know I’m a handful sometimes” “No no, don’t apologise. It’s not your fault we were split. You are who you are, Rem” Roman was tackled as Remus launched himself at his brother, arms wrapping around him like he never wanted to let go “Thanks Ro,” he mumbled into the sheets below him as Roman batted at him to get off and allow him to breathe again

__________________________________________

The other sides were certainly worried when Roman didn’t show up in the morning, and Deceit definitely wasn’t concerned when he woke up uninterrupted, with no bad smell lingering from an uninvited guest to his room. The creativitwins showed up later on, trying to fake annoyance being around each other, but unable to keep the smiles off their faces. They didn’t say where they’d been or that they’d worked together to modify their childhood bunk bed into a modern double bed and slept beside each other, muttering about wild fantasies that weren’t too cutesy and romantic, but also weren’t too gruesome and disturbing. No, they thought they could keep their old room as their little secret, and maybe one day, it could be a place of happiness for them again

A/N: After Thomas said in the member stream that his personal headcanon, not actual canon, is that Roman and Remus don’t share a room, I thought about the idea of them once sharing a room but not anymore, and so this came to me!

[thesarcasticside]

Anything-$00000DEE

NAME Dylan ID 42 33 77 52 11 ALIENRACE human hybrid (unknown) OCCUPATION computer scientist

Chapter Warnings mind control, illusions, manipulation, death threat, emotional abuse, psychological horror, swearing Chapter Characters Janus, Remus, The Dragon Witch, Virgil (mentioned)

HINT 4: MESSAGE STOP (See AO3 for end of fic notes/comment section for secret message)

AO3 Chapter 1 Previous Chapter end

The curtains—their color and texture analogous to that of verdure scraped across a canvas with a palette knife—were suspended by bronze colored curtain rods. Chips and scratches revealed a true grey metal beneath the metallic paint. Sunlight poked through holes in the fabric like constellations. The glass of the panes was fogged, years of weathering clinging to the transparent wall.

Dee’s real hand clenched, the desire to run his fingers through the texture palpable. He gripped the edge of the curtain, the finished seam like the edge of a dull blade against his palm.

Leaning against the glass, Dee let the coolness creep into his pressed limbs, torso, and forehead—he let the filtered light soak into his skin. Dee took a deep breath, exhaled, and let his eyes wander the room—his room.

A single mattress laid on a bed of wires, the metal columns and springs and screws poking out, ready to scrape his shins. The white sheets were clean, just as if they were bought yesterday, but the quilts and crocheted blankets were worn, their colors desaturated over time, into charcoal browns and dead leaves.

Dee could not remove the image of Remus—without hesitation—lifting boxes of junk out of a spare room, clearing it out, for him.

Knowing that Dee had nowhere else to go.

The hardwood floors and paneling were in good condition despite the scratch marks. The walls were covered in random posters and framed pictures, probably to hide more so than decorate. Strings of warm light were strung across the ceiling and wall at the head of the bed.

Bookshelves covered an entire wall—books that Dee did not care to read, judging by their titles.

It was simple—It could be much more elaborate—the memories of grand halls, filigree, murals, he saw on his missions came to mind. Yet it was million times better than the crisp, perfect white walls, the red carpets, the geometric planter boxes, the red tinted windows…

It hurt—that is what it felt like, that swelling in his chest. Certainly not anything that would make him feel giddy with glee, anything that would bring warmth to his visage, or anything that would make him feel welcomed for once in his goddamn life—It hurt that Remus did not hold it over him.

He could come and go as he pleased.

Dee left the window, and left his room, and Remus was there in the kitchen, making some god-awful abomination that might taste good or kill them both.

Dee walked to an open counter.

The ritual of making coffee was quite relaxing. Dee enjoyed it immensely, carefully measuring and grinding the beans. He stood in the kitchen, waiting, watching the coffee dripping through the hourglass, the aroma meeting his senses.

Remus in the background was loud, clunks and clicks, hardy laughter, shimmying shoulders, traversing the small kitchen with skips. Dee was barely halfway through the coffee making process when Remus turned around, jumped in the air like a cat, just noticing his presence, with a yelp. His eyes widened with glee, amused by the scare.

“Mornin’!”

Dee shot out a sigh with a smile and replied, “morning.”

“Hey, if you want, we can go out shopping today for more stuff for your new room, roomie.” By shopping, Dee figured Remus meant dumpster diving. Though, if he asked, Dee was sure that Remus would be willing to travel somewhere off planet for things.

Problem was, Dee never had any possessions before. He did not know what he needed. It was as if Remus was shoveling piles of stuff into his arms, and Dee was starting to get overwhelmed by his generosity.

“Eh, I’m good. Would rather chill today,” Dee, after all his years under Dei’dra, did not feel like doing anything.

“Alrighty then, I had a dream last night and, in my dream, I came up with the perfect recipe for scrambled eggs. Decided to test that out. You’ll be my first taste-tester—Hey Dee? You alright?”

Dee had stopped moving. The coffee held in his hands crashed to the floor.

Dee tried to blink away the silence pouring into his ears, drowning out Remus. He tried to hear the colors and mismatched filigree of Remus’s cramped kitchen, but there was nothing—but white walls and red carpet and grey floors.

He was alone, in a room, suddenly, like every moment he spent by Remus’ side had been a dream.

He blinked again and Dei’dra was there in front of him. The room was off—the dimensions were too small. He could feel her breath, which stunk of stale coffee and vomit, on his face, as he looked up at her.

He did not let this shake him. He repeated in his mind that Dei’dra was taken care of. That he was in a Junkyard. That this was not real. He spent long enough not feeling real to know the difference.

“Good day, doll. I hope you’ve enjoyed your vacation in the trash heap. Soon enough, I’ll have another mission for you.”

“Go get fucked Dei’dra. You and I both know you’re going to rot in jail for the rest of your sad human life.”

Dei’dra laughed, but there was a tone in there that seemed to acknowledge that as being somewhat true.

“The reality is, you and I are in this together. Forever..” And he felt a pulling sensation in his mind, like ropes against his brain, the friction drawing blood. “I have a plan—just like I always do—and you’re going to follow it.”

“Oh, really?” He scoffed, “How about you make me? Going to override my systems? Make me Project $DEE again? Good fucking luck.”

“Oh… All that research put to waste, disabled by the hands of a fish.” Dei’dra’s face was twisted—at first, she had appeared as he met her, put together and clean, but soon enough the knotted frizzy hairs and crumpled skin begun to fade into view. “Alrighty then, I’ll call you later. Nice knowing you.” She turned around, leaving this strange room of his mind’s own making.

“Rot in hell,” he managed, his throat filling with sand. She turned around, eyes blinking with colors, colors like the device that was now in pieces.

“Oh, before you go, darling. You remember that house plant of mine?” She was talking about Virgil. He was free. He made sure of it. He watched over him, as he healed, as he flew far away from him and her. No longer burdened with the dragon’s horde.

A chilly unease crawled along his back, gripping his shoulders with icy talons.

“You were quite fond of him, weren’t you?”

“What of him?”

He had to play indifferent. He could not get sucked into this trap. Yet he knew he could not hide this from her. He could never hide from Dei’dra.

“I’m going to be blunt; he is as good as dead. I can kill him at a touch of a button.” And then the woman had the nerve to smile and point at the bracelet at her wrist. “I would love to press it—oh, I want to press it, especially after his big betrayal.” Then she pouted, “It’d be a shame if I had a reason to keep him alive.”

“You’re full of bull, and that’s a lot coming from me.”

“You really think that tracker was all that was keeping him here?” Her eyes were red. “That after all these years, I didn’t think to up my security. Upgrade his controller?” She burst out laughing, “Doll, you are a riot!”

“Leave Virgil alone. He’s free. You lost. He won. Die in prison, you bastard.” He found that his voice was cracking, tumbling into silence.

“I won’t.” Dei’dra’s eyes were shining, bright, like an angel. “Unless you cooperate.”

—And in his mind, amidst the sand, a doorway appeared to him. Texture like that of sandstone, he could feel himself run his hands down the door frame. He could read the engravings, like pieces of memories put back together, but not as it was before—like a sculpture instead.

And he was back in the present, Dei’dra fading from view. And he was rumbling, wind blowing through him, sand blasting at his ribcage, ready to burst from his throat. Dei’dra faded from his mind, but she already got what she wanted.

He had to play this game. It was a rematch. He was just at the loading screen. He would bide his time, play along, lie, and wait.

But he would change the rules. The player characters would be different. The mechanics would shift. He would change.

He was on the ground. He lifted his head. Remus was standing over him, semi-crouched, blunt concern on his face, confusion upon his brows. He stood up, dismissed the offered hand. He brushed his coat, took in a breath, and turned to face Remus.

He was not doll.

He was not $DEE.

He was not even Dee.

But he was going to stop her—kill her—whatever he had to—so he could live his life how he wanted—because fuck Dei’dra.

Remus was staring at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Remus, from now on, please call me—"

He was, “—Janus.”

[his-honey-bee-blog]

A/N: Keep in mind that this was written by two people, and then touched up by me. We took turns, so both of us wrote for each character. I'll try to make it as consistent as possible, but it's midnight, my man. Sorry for any inconsistencies... This is also our first fanfiction together, so bear with us T^T We wrote it on a very loose plot....

AU: Soulmate AU where if Person A gets injured physically, the same injuries show up on Person B

Requested: No

Genre: Angst, but it gets fluffy at the end

Trigger warnings: Torture, but not bad

Summary: Castiel and Dean are soulmates, and have to find out the hard way when Crowley finds it necessary to kidnap the angel and try and torture the location of the boys out of him.

Unanswered Prayers (Destiel)

After being kept in the dark for so long, the dim light of the small room he was being kept in was enough to trigger an intense headache. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut a few times before he was able to take in his surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the sudden lighting change. The walls were stained a desaturated yellow, from years of going uncleaned. He raised his eyebrows when he noticed the whiteboard on the wall opposite him. Was this an office building? Or perhaps a school... He didn't have the time to decide, as the door opened abruptly and the room filled with a few figures, and he tilted his head as he recognised the figure closest to him.

"Well, what do we have here...?" Crowley's accented voice rang out. Cas could vaguely remember the smell of chloroform before waking up in this room, and his only clue as to what happened after was that he could feel slight pain in his wrists, arms, and legs. "Castiel, my sweet. Its certainly has been a while, hasn't it." The demon's question was spoken more like a statement. He knelt down in front of the angel, who felt vaunerable when he noticed the binding symbols written on the whiteboard. "Are you finally going to talk?"

"I have nothing to say to you!" Cas spat. "Now, now, Cassy," Crowley clicked his tongue condescendingly, "You know I don't like you keeping secrets from me. You can tell me where the Winchesters are, or I can kill you. Whichever is most convenient for you, I suppose."

Castiel's expression hardened at his words, his jaw clenched. He didn't know what he should do, what to say. If he didn't tell Crowley where they were, he'd probably kill Cas on the spot. They'd definitely try to torture it out of him, as well. But if he did tell... Castiel decided that telling him would be worse; he didn't know his motives, and for all he knew, Crowley could very well be wanting to kill them, too.

Cas knew the boys would be looking for him, so was there any point in telling Crowley? "Last chance, feathers," Crowley held an angel blade to Castiel's neck. "You wouldn't kill me. You dont have any information yet..." He said breathlessly, trying to sound brave. "Ah..." The suited Brit backed away. "Learning from moose and squirrel, I see. You know, your little boyfriend is a bad influence, Castiel."

'Cas, this isn't the time to get flustered..' He thought to himself, struggling to not romanticise on what would happen if Dean WAS interested in him... He craned his neck up to look at the King of Hell, his eyes filled with nothing but hate for him. "Why do you even need to know, anyways?" He spat cynically, "What more could you want with them?"

"Well..." Crowly mused calmly, "maybe, it has to do with the fact that all of you idiots have tried to kill me several times, tried to destroy hell, and you all annoy the shit out of me!" His voice escelated in attitude and loudness as his sentence went on. His screaming wasn't helping Cas' headache... "Now..." Crowley cut deep into Cas's arm, who couldn't help but scream. "Tell me where the Winchesters are!"

=(^._.^)=

"Shitfuck!" Dean gasped in pain and looked at his arm. There was a giant scar...? He didn't understand where it came from... "Sammy! Go check dads journal for anything on unexplained scars." Sam furrowed his brows, before opening the bag he usually carried the journal in. "I'll see if I can figure out where Cas is. Maybe he can help."

In the few hours Sam had been researching and Dean had been trying to reach out to Castiel, several more cuts, bruises, and burns appeared on Dean's skin.

"Huh." Sam chuckled. Dean looked up, annoyed that Sam could laugh in a situation like this. "What is it?"

"Well, it says here that it's either an angry entity trying to mark you, or..." Sam laughed again, before he could continue. "Spit it out, asshat!" Dead growled, frustrated. "Or it's your soulmate. Say they got a bruise on their leg, the same bruise would show up on yours"

"Must be an angry entity, then." Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't have a soulmate." Sam rolled his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, Dean."

"Why are you rolling your eyes?" Dean asked accusingly. "Oh come on, Dean! What if this has something to do with Cas?" Sam said, a serious look on his face. Dean scowled, not wanting his younger brother to see him hopeful for something like this. "The hell are you implying Sammy!?" Just as he finished his sentence, he felt another sharp pain on his leg, before watching his jeans slowly soak up his blood from underneath.

Dean didn't want to admit it, and it was a horrible thing to think... but he hoped that it did have something to do with Cas... the thought of the angel being his soulmate gave him a rush of excitement in itself. But, this was Dean... "It's not Cas," he scoffed, "it can't be. I mean, an angel and a guy like me? Come on, Sam." Sam shook his head and clicked his tongue, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes held... was that sadness Dean detected? "Dean, there are so many things I could tell you about your worth, but there is no time. Jhink about it! It's been how long since Cas last showed up? If it is him, and he's getting deep cuts on his arms..." Dean didn't speak as he grabbed a bag that he keeps packed, in case of emergencies. His jaw clenched, he looked at his brother for a few seconds before leaving the room, finding that no matter how much he prayed in his head, there was no answer. "Cas!" He resorted to yelling, "You need to get your feathery ass over here! It's important!" He stood in the hallway, panic rising when Cas still didn't show up.

"Sam! Hurry up and see if you can track the GPS in his cell pho- SHIT!" He cut off hus sentence as another strong pain arised in his jaw, a purple bruise quickly forming has he spat blood on the floor.

=(^._.^)=

Cas swallowed the blood that flowed into his mouth from his ripped up cheek; Crowley had sicked one of his "munchkins", as Dean called them, on him. Let's just say that steel-toed boots don't agree with high speeds and faces.

"I'm not revealing their location." He scowled, nostrils flaring as he was forced to ignore Dean's prayers, the symbols drawn on the whiteboard preventing him from teleporting to his side, as he so badly wanted to.

"Well, that's just going to make my job more difficut, Cassie. You know this hurts me more that it hurts you." Cas was punched again, this time, on the other side of his jaw. 'Dean...' he thought to himself, 'I need Dean...' Cas tried to push the thoughts back, but the more prayers he got from his hunter, the more the thought that they weren't safe was embedded into his mind.

"Crowley..." Castiel said in a defeated tone, "There is no point In holding me hostage like this. I will not tell you Sam and Deans location." Cas didn't want to fight anymore, but he knew he had to. He had to fight it for Dean. "Well that's just too bad, Castiel. You said it yourself: I'm not letting you go until I get what I want." Cas let his head hang; he had never felt more pathetic. "If you're going to kill me, then kill me..." The angel said, fighting back tears. "But I will not let my friends get hurt due to my reckless actions."

Dean groaned again, plopping in the passenger seat of the Impala, rubbing his jaw. "Sam! Hurry your ass up!" He yelled, as his brother decided, fuck it, I'll leave the door unlocked. Sam slid into the driver's seat of Dean's 'baby', before speeding away, the green dot on the GPS not landing too terribly far from where they were.

"Why's he at an elementary school?" Sam questioned, as he looked at Dean, who was currently examining his face in the rear-view mirror. "Fuck if I know," his face scrunched up with worry and confusion that he wouldn't admit vocally, "but it doesn't smell good. Especially when I'm getting random injuries." Sam shook his head and snorted sarcastically, "Tell me about it. Do you want to know more about that soulmate stuff?" He asked, hopefully lightening the mood. "Amuse me." Dean said emotionlessly, his cheek feeling like a raw potato. "So get this; apparently, not everyone has a soulmate. Your other half has to compliment your personality. You know, person A keeps person B calm, stuff like that. Which means not everyone has a perfect compliment, I guess."

"Cas, if you're listening... I want you to know we tracked your cellphone. We think you're in trouble... Hang in there, buddy." Dean prayed to him again, complete ignoring his brother's information. "Hey, what's our, uh.. ETA?" He asked his moos- I mean brother. "It should be about five minutes. He'll be fine, I promise."

"I know." Dean stated, trying not to to show the worry in his voice. "Even if he does get hurt like this, he can use his angel mojo magic to fix it."

"You mean his Grace?"

"Yeah, whatever."

=(^._.^)=

"Well, looks like your boyfriend isn't planning on showing up to the party. That's too bad. We were just going start to have fun!" Crowley left a cut on Cas's stomach, seemingly just enjoying himself now, as he knew the angel wouldn't say anything.

Just as cas was about to let out a yelp of pain, he heard yelling outside the door. Was that Sam...? A strong leg kicked down the door, as Dean growled. "Don't you fucking take a step, Crowley."

"Oh look, it's Rocky and Bullwinkle. Glad you could make it." Crowley mused. It didn't take long for Dean to make it from the door to Crowley. Getting close to him felt like getting close to Hitler; that son of a bitch deserves to pay, and he had the tools to make him. Dean immediately shoved Crowley against the whiteboard, smudging the symbols drawn on them. "Calm down, lover b-"

"Calm down?" Dean yelled, "You want me to calm down?!" He loosened his grip on Crowley a bit, before slamming him into the whiteboard again, harder this time. He pulled out his gun and pressed it up to Crowley's stomach. "You know very well that your silly gun won't kill me."

"No," he tilted his head, leaning in," but it'll hurt like a bitch." He told him, before imbedding two bullets in the demon's abdomen.

Crowley let out a pained grunt, as Sam ran over and untied his friend. "Sammy! Take Cas home. I'm not finished with douchebag, here." Dean said, not taking his eyes off the weak king, as he let him drop to the floor. "This isn't going to stop me Dean! You know I can make you pay for what you've done! I've got more time on my hands than you!"

"Thats funny," Dean chuckled darkly, "because I don't think you're gonna be able to find us for a while." With some Latin, Dean was able to send Crowley and his restrained men back to where they came from. After it was all over, Dean walked back to the bunker. He didn't bother calling Sam. He needed time to think. "Lover boy..." he muttered to himself. "Cas is just a friend." Dean tried to convince himself of this, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the butterflies in his stomach. When reached the bunker, he hesitated to walk in. He wasn't sure what to do.

Inside, Cas sat next to Sam, trying to gather up his words; Dean hadn't come back to the bunker yet, but Cas was sure of what he saw. "Sam." The aforementioned swung his head around to look at the angel, who hadn't healed yet. He hummed a noise, wordlessly asking what was up. "I'm guessing that you're wondering why I haven't healed myself yet... and I will admit the reason why if you'll give me advice." Sam flashed a knowing smile, leaning forward in his seat. "Go on...?"

"I could have sworn that when Dean walked in, he had identical injuries to mine... Are you familiar with the soulmate phenomenon?"

"Are you asking me if you and Dean have such complimenting personalities that you're spiritually connected?"

"If... if that is the way you would prefer to phrase it."

Sam put the book he was reading down, and turned to face the angel completely. "Yeah. I honestly think that you're perfect for each other. And yes, he felt like he was decked in the face three times." Castiel looked down at his hands, smiling to himself.

Cas thought of all the things he wanted to say to Dean. About how much he loved him. Suddenly, they both heard the bunker door open and slam shut. "Cas. We need to talk." Sam took that as his que to leave, but before he did, he gave cas a thumbs up. "Let me see your arm." Dean commanded, his voice strong but his face telling a different story. Dean took his angel's arm and set it by his. They had the same exact scar. He looked at Castiel's jaw. Same bruises. "Cas, I..."

"Dean, I already know. Sam and I... We already discussed this."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it, as he was lost for words. Luckily, Cas had been formulating a plan since he saw Dean walk in with those injuries.

Cas looked up into Dean's eyes, the same stoic expression on his face... but Dean saw something different in it. His eyes held an emotion that Dean couldn't read. Cas stood on the tips of his toes and leaned close to Dean's face, before whispering something in Enochian and planting a soft kiss on Dean's jaw, where the bruise was the darkest and the swelling was at it's peak.

Dean stuttered, stumbled over nonsense words. Cas smiled at him with adoration, seeing his face now healed as he ran his hand down Dean's now blood-free forearm.

"C-Cas, I-"

"I think you're perfect. In every way. I don't care if you don't think you're enough, or if you feel that you can't trust anyone other than yourself. You're more of an angel in my eyes than I am in everyone else's. I understand if you don't feel the same, but I'd like to inform you that when you're near, my stomach feels like a beehive with all the business of feeling you give me. I-"

The angel was cut off with a quick kiss on the lips from the hunter in front of him. "I think you're great too, honeybear."

Dean found something he thought he would never again. Not after Lisa. He looked at Cas and saw the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his life, the person he knew would accept him no matter what. That's what he's always seen. He would do any thing to protect Castiel. This was it. This... This was love. His train of thought was cut off by Cas wrapping his arms around Dean's neck to pull him closer, passionately kissing him. Cas has been waiting to do this ever since he had pulled Dean from his damnation. Dean was surprised at first, but melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. This wasn't just some fling, or a one night stand. This was real, and it was more than Dean thought he deserved.

Cas cared about him more than anyone ever did, and he didn't want to lose the one thing that made his life worth living. They pulled away when the need for air became too high. "Dean..." The angel said softly, looking up at Dean with the sweetest expression. "You will always be important. Dean I..." He sighed, "I thi- I know that I love you."

For the first time since Dean could remember, his emotions overwhelmed him so much that it effected him physically. He let his head fall for his forehead to touch his angel's tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. 'Castiel: my angel, my love...' he thought, 'I could get used to that.'

"I think that counted as a prayer." Cas smiled widely, his gaze landing on Dean's feet as he intertwined his fingers with his soulmate's. "Well shit," Dean chuckled, "now I just sound clingy."

"I'm fine with that, Dean," he whispered, "I'll come when you call. And if I don't, I know you will save me, too." They both snapped their head to the direction of the doorway, when they heard one certain flannel-wearing sasquatch clear his throat loudly. The quickly pushed away from each other, when they finally realised how red their faces had become. "No, don't let me stop you. It's not like I heard anything you guys just said." Dean was blushing profusely. Cas tilted his head, "Dean and I were just..."

"I know Cas. I'm leaving anyways. Dean, I'm taking the car. I'll be at the library doing reserch on how we can deal with Crowley." Immediately after the door closed, Dean tackled Cas to the couch. "I love you, my angel."

"I love you too, my hunter..."

A/N: They say that they never separated again, the cheesiness made them stick together and now they hunt conjoined at the hip

[sanguinarysanguinity]

rabbit & like a bat family, for the ask meme, whichever questions you feel comfortable answering

(Questions)

Like a Bat-Family

(Elementary; Martha & Kitty & Joan & Sherlock; part of Rolling Remix)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I received my copy of “Like Family” for remixing and groused and whined and cursed its author, because like hell did I see a way into it. The obvious thing would have been to flip the pov to Kitty, but “Like Family” might already have been a pov-flip from whatever came before it and I didn’t want to risk just flipping it back again.

I finally decided on a slumber-party-like variation of the mutual nail-painting, probably featuring Martha. Then once I had Martha and Kitty in the same mental premise, I realized they had probably built some kind of relationship during their mutual time in the brownstone, and thus that Martha should be added to the list of people cheated of a proper good-bye with her. (And not just cheated of a good-bye, but of the entire history of their relationship!) So this became a reunion/closure story for not only Joan-and-Kitty, but also Martha-and-Kitty.

I set it during New Year’s at the brownstone mostly out of cussedness. I’d already remixed a story for the exchange, which meant I knew there was a cluster of NYE stories at the beginning of the chain. I thought it’d be hilarious to re-introduce the New Year’s theme at the tail end of the chain, too, in the hopes that it would mess up some of the guessers.

2: What scene did you first put down?

A scene that no longer exists: Joan on the roof New Year’s morning, ostensibly cleaning up after the party but mostly staring at the river, and being surprised by Kitty’s entrance. The energy was never quite right, somehow, and the whole story stalled there until I switched povs and began over with Martha. However, the scene still indirectly exists in the current version of the story, and the original image of Kitty appearing from nowhere like Batman was the genesis of the Bat-Family motif.

The only part of that now-deleted scene that I was really sad to lose was the color scheme:

[Joan stood at the roof edge, looking out at] the desaturated, wintry grays of the city, contemplating the rough slate of the East River and how it reflected back the platinum sky above.

Happily, I was able to salvage the bones of that description for Nostoi:

Beyond that streak of white, there was nothing but grey all around us: sky and rain and sea-water; iron and silver and slate.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Joan and Sherlock argued silently with each other, a flurry of mulish mouths, jutted jaws, and raised eyebrows.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“Alfred,” she whispered, and all three of them cracked up into giggles.

5: What part was hardest to write?

Ugh, gah, cramming in the backstory and off-screen bits. Backstory and flashbacks are always a struggle to incorporate smoothly without overexplaining or messing up the narrative flow, and this story was written so quickly, with so little opportunity for editing… Meh.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

My first and only story from the pov of a trans character? More unusually, I didn’t have the time to ask someone who is trans to look it over – that’s usually something that I take care to do when writing a marginalized identity outside of my own experience. But once again, the turn around time was so fast… I hope I did no harm, and I own it if I did.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

I was going to bring back Joan’s accordion from the first two stories, which – when joined with Kitty’s clarinet and Sherlock’s violin – would be the foundations of a Klezmer band. (Martha would be on drums, because.) When I later saw that someone in the exchange had written a Band AU I kicked myself so hard that I hadn’t done it.

Rabbit

(TSCC; Jesse Flores; 5+1)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

The Terminator franchise centers itself so strongly on Southern California and the Connors, I craved to know what that franchise looks like if you don’t presuppose John Connor as the center of the universe. Further, I am fascinated with the way the timelines fold back on themselves in that franchise, the way Judgement Day is forever shifting, the way futures keep reaching back to rewrite the past-to-be based on whatever has been going on in the current timeline.

A 5+1 seemed a convenient way to explore what successive futures might look like when one is half a world away from the causes, experiencing only the after-effects; it also allowed me to build an argument that John Connor may not always be the single most important person in the future. That is, that there might be futures where other people become more strategically significant.

I also had the very misguided idea that a 5+1 would be a short, simple, and easy structure, and would get me out of having to build and plot a full-blown story. Ha fucking hah.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

There are a ton of narrative lines I love, mostly in the final section. But have this one out of the fifth section:

Jesse stared at the farmboy, her gaze flicking to where the dolphins should have been on his chest. Jesus Fucking Christ. A whole crew of nubs. They were running a deathtrap.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“You are not a god, Derek. You made choices, I made choices, John Connor made choices. We all made choices. Hell, there’s a twelve-year-old Jesse out there somewhere, making choices. Whether to swim at the leisure centre or swim at the beach. For all you know, the war hinges on the choice she made today.”

Tied with:

“What do you want me to say, that it could have been anyone? That the only reason Skynet went after you—the only reason your family died—is because Goodnow tells a good story and Skynet fell for it?”

Because I have opinions about the Terminator franchise, and how everyone is running around making choices based on stories they were told. Skynet, the Connors, everyone from the future who gets their hands on a time machine, everyone they meet in the past: everyone has heard a story, and now they’re all making choices, and the entire future history of the world is gonna hinge on those choices. Talk about a universe that runs on fucking hearsay and gossip.

But mostly my favorite line is this:

“I’m Jesse!” she screamed at it, to make herself breathe. “I’m Jesse fucking Flores!”

Because Jesse fucking Flores. :-D

5: What part was hardest to write?

All the Australia bits. :-P

@lastwingedthing put in a good chunk of work on this story, correcting language and helping me with geographically appropriate choices for stuff. (That olive tree in the first section began life as a prickly pear, which is invasive in Australia – I wanted an invasive plant for thematic reasons – but it’s invasive in a different part of Australia.) However, the challenge with writing something that will later be Ozpicked (or Britpicked, or whatever) is that it’s not enough to eschew Americanisms in your draft, you have to put in geographically specific stuff, too, otherwise you’ll end up with a bland and non-specific story. And while a generous Ozpicker can and will help with that, you can’t expect them to do the bulk of that work for you.

For an example of what I’m talking about, consider my own The Case of the Six Marmalades against @scfrankles’ The Case of the Deceased Marmalade Thief: they’re nicely matched in terms of fandom, genre, and topic, and I consider Frankles a peer in terms of our respective skill. But notice that Frankles’ use of idiom in her dialog is much, much richer than my own (in part because she really is just that good with voices), but also in part because she’s English, and has a much larger mental catalog of appropriate idiom to select from. In contrast, I’m forever rejecting language as “too American” and then finding I have nothing interesting to replace it with. Consequently, my dialog has a linguistic blandness to it that hers doesn’t. This is the kind of thing I see a lot with American vs. British authors in British fandoms: the British authors have a vibrancy to them that American authors seldom manage to attain.

And this isn’t to run myself down, or to suggest that Six Marmalades is a failure of a story. (It’s not.) It’s simply an illustration of how it is with stories written by outsiders: even if they manage to eschew errors and stereotypes, they often end up with a generic, non-specific blandness that’s difficult to overcome. *shrug emoji* Either you never write outside your own specific cultural context, or you accept that you won’t manage the vibrancy that your story deserves. Choose your poison.

Anyway, back to Rabbit: I had to come up with Australia-specific stuff to put in, but I was starting from near zero. I watched all the Australian post-apoc films I could stomach; I played Australian talk and comedy shows in the background while I did chores; I listened to a series of Australian podcasts for English-language-learners during my commutes; I spent a fuckton of time browsing anAustralian slang dictionary (where I learned more usage via the crowdsourced definitions than in the nominal terms being defined)… Just, trying to pick up idioms and usage and rhythms and words, both to reduce the load on my very generous Ozpicker, but also trying to make sure that when she was done removing my Americanisms, my language didn’t end up blandly generic nowhere. (If nothing else, I could give her possibly-wrong Australian slang that she could correct to something more appropriate, yeah? And she did a bit of that: “yobbos” became “sad bastards,” for example.) So the language was a fair amount of up front work, even with her polishing and fine-tuning it for me.

And getting the Australian bits right was more than just language, of course; there was the usual ton of googling random shit. Who runs public swimming pools, the history and composition of the Australian submarine service, what plants are invasive, imports/exports from Perth… Again, she corrected and fine-tuned a bunch of stuff (and sometimes pointed out issues that I hadn’t thought to question), but there was still a chunk of work involved in giving her something that could be corrected and fine-tuned.

I wanted to set Rabbit in Australia, a place that is distinct from America, and that ultimately was the hardest part of writing the story.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

At the time, it was my only fic set in Australia, my only go at action/suspense, my only 5+1, my only “heroine against the world, framedaround a strong central metaphor, ending when the showdown begins in earnest” kind of story structure. I’ve since repeated all of those things, because I wrote this a long time ago, and I’m as repetitive as fuck.

As to what makes it still unique among my stories…

Um…

It’s the only one with submarines in?

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

I grew up in a Navy town, outside a nuclear submarine base, and one of the members in my origfic writing group served on a submarine, back in the day. So all the submarine stuff is strongly influenced by my hometown, the kids whose parents were in the Navy, my own dad who worked for the Navy, my schoolmates who went into the Navy themselves, the submariner who I dated when I was faaaaar too young for him (and the shit my dad pulled to scare him off), the tours I’ve taken on out-of-service submarines, the time I’ve spent fucking around in boats while sharing the same waters as submarines, plus all the time I’ve spent editing my friend’s submarine novels based on his own service.

None of which is actually the same as actually serving on a submarine myself, of course, but there are a number of submarine details that were inspired by spending a chunk of my life submarine-adjacent.

(Navy showers! My father enforced Navy showers on us when we were kids. Although not the same way that they’re enforced in the actual Navy, because that would have been child abuse. But you know. You run across random shit in your life, and it eventually ends up in a fic.)