#then im saying we make it up to—if not past—the apocalypse before this even becomes an issue

[quietwingsinthesky]

the way demon blood millie works to me is a combination of three factors: 1) we know azazel kept doing that shit after his first crop of special kids, he was doing it in s1 to a random baby there, so she’s in the possible running, 2) the only people in the first round of demon kid hunger games were sam’s age, meaning she would not be a part of that anyway, and 3) they establish that the nursery fire pattern doesn’t hold up. so john wouldn’t even know.

so like. the only clue that anything’s up with millie is if, like sam, she had early childhood feelings that she was unclean in some way like he did. but here’s the thing. here’s the thing. if she felt that way, she would just assume that’s how everyone feels all the time. especially with sam around confirming that fact to her with his own angsting.

[joskippy]

!!! ARCHIVIST MARTIN HEADCANONS PLS !!!

OHOHOH FELLA YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH HCS I HAVE FOR THIS AU

Literally all of this is going under a read more because I have this entire au mapped out in detail but basically I find the idea of Archivist!Martin very interesting because it's just changing one detail of the entire podcast and it completely alters the story.

(Under the read more is basically my entire idea for this au from season one to season four)

What happens in this au is that Elias hires and appoints Martin as head archivist because of the fact he was already deeply alligned with the lonely and was a interests of the webs. He lacked any real connection outside of the archives and was already of interest of two entities, he's basically a perfect candidate to become archivist. Tim, Sasha, and especially Jon are hesitant to be working under someone who they don't know and hold a slight grudge against Martin at the start for being obviously unqualifed for his job. Tim and Sasha, of course, immediately become more understanding when finding out about Martin's cv and just assuming he got unlucky and winded up with the role as the head archivist. Jon, on the other hand, still doesn't know about Martin's cv and continues holding the grudge against Martin.

Which leads us to season 1

In season one, Jon's opinion on Martin is "Oh lord this man I don't know is obviously unqualifed for his job and the role of archivist should've gone to my friend Sasha. I don't like this man but he is my boss so I will keep my mouth shut." Jon though, is still very passive agressive to Martin but is less of an ass to him in this au. Martin is very open about his opinion on statements and believes alot of them but similar to jon, will only record the ones that he knows have to be real. I still think Martin get's trapped in his flat by prentiss in this au, wanting to get more info for the case but not wanting to inconvenience any of his co-workers. While trapped in his flat, Jon takes over for him and records statements for Martin (Not in a "I want to impress my boss" matter but more of an "I'll show this twerp how it's really done") and realizes how much of toll it takes on him and how difficult the job is. When Martin comes back from his little worm adventure, Jon is much more nicer and understanding of him. Martin records what happened with him and prentiss and Jon offers him to stay in the little room he made for when he overstays at work. (Martin of course, is not happy with the fact Jon stays past work hours finishing up stuff but that doesnt matter). Y'know how the rest of s1 goes with the prentiss attack (Jon and Martin still share the heart to heart, Jon loses him and Tim in the tunnels) Jon finds Gertrude's body and it sparks his paranoia finding out she was shot to death and then we get to

Season 2

Jon's immediate assumption is that Martin killed Gertrude to get his job because like, he still doesn't know Martin well and then finds out this dude's predecessor got murdered so of course mr jon sims is going to go "oh so Martin for SURE murdered this lady." For the first half of the season, Jon pretends to be buddy buddy with Martin to see if anything's off with him and somewhere along the line Jon finds the noted Martin was writing to his mom in the trash and immediately assumes its about the murder. He catches Martin in his office and immediately corners Martin like "HEY I KNOW YOU KILLED GERTRUDE AND I GOT THE PROOF" and Martin just sighs and tells him about his cv and mother and Jon's opinion of Martin goes from "incompetent murderer who killed his predecessor to get his job and might kill me." to "highschool drop out whos just trying to make a living might end up being murdered too". With the not-sasha stuff it's sorta the same but Martin let's Jon in on some details of his suspicions on her. Martin get's framed for Jurgen's death and NOW WE ARE AT

Season 3

So since Martin obviously doesn't have a place to hide it at the start of season 3 so Jon offers him to stay at his place. Jon knows that Martin didn't kill Jurgen and is willing to take the risk of giving Martin a  place to stay. Martin, of course, is hesitant but takes the offer because he's been crushing on Jon for the past forever and definitely will take his chances in staying in hot guy's flat. You know the shenanigans of s3 (Martin get's burned by Jude, kidnapped by Daisy, kipdnapped by Nikola) and FINALLY get's back into the archives to apologize to Jon for being gone from the flat for so long and apologizes again cause he's about to go off to america. Martin get's kidnapped again, comes back to london, and now it's time to stop an apocalypse! ( Before the unknowing happens, Jon and Martin share a heart to heart and confess that they both share feelings for another and get together the day before 118 happens then shit goes DOWN ). Martin of course, goes off to the unknowing and Jon stays behind at the archives to distract Elias. Elias tries and fails to use Jon's feelings for Martin against him, then switches to what happened with Georgie and the dead women walking incidents against him, pinning it on him because of his connection with the web. Martin stops the unknowing, Jon comes home to the empty apartment and gets the news that Martin is in a coma. (He immediately blames it on himself) and now it's time for

Season 4

Jon losing Martin right after realizing that they both love each other absolutely tears him apart. He moves flats and he begins to separate himself from the rest of the archives and works with peter. Martin wakes up from his coma without anyone by his side and is told the news to him about his mom right the day after. S4 basically goes the same with Martin seeing Jon again finally after the coma and goes to hug him and tell him how much he missed him but Jon just stares at him like he saw a ghost and leaves without saying a word to him. Alot of their interactions are sparse, usually with Martin trying to spark a convo with Jon resulting in usually no response or just a head shake as he scutters off.  Then Martin finally is able to actually talk to Jon and tells him that he misses him and that maybe they could catch up sometime but Jon just laughs and tells him that hes busy. Martin later on finds out about how to cut off the connection with the eye and goes to tell Jon that they could leave the archives but Jon tells him that he can't and tells Martin he doesn't want to see him anymore and kicks Martin out his office. You know what happens in 158 and 159, it's basically the same and Jon and Martin settle down at the safehouse.

I don't have much for season 5 but I really like the idea that Martin is still optimistic even after the change and that he reassures Jon that he's gonna find a way to fix it when it reality he has no clue and it terrified to think about what is going to happpen to them. They don't stay in the cabin that long soon after since Martin is very eager to go to the pannopticon and ya! Yknow how it goes.

Im so sorry I wrote a whole essay worth of shit but this au means alot to me and i get very excited when people ask me about it!!

[it-was-summer]

When I’m Away (Aged Up!Five x Fem!Reader)

Requested: Yes! Im so glad you guys enjoy my writing and support me! 

Plot: It was basically Five and fem!Reader were best friends and in love and when he jumped, she ended up in the apocalypse together with him. He finally confessed. A few years down the line they got married (as best as one can in an apocalypse xD) and eventually made it home together slightly aged up. Five was always insecure about the fact that he made Reader suffer though even accidentally. It was his biggest regret but most selfish happiness. Post-apocalypse saving, he overhears a conversation Reader is having with one of the other Hargreeves (Klaus, Allison or Vanya come to mind) and misinterprets it/mishears it. He thinks Reader regrets being with him and was truly miserable all this time and that crushes him inside. He starts doing his best to make things happier for her but also makes himself scarce. In a life or death situation, he ends up putting himself in the line of fire for her and before he passes out from the wounds, he whispers an apology to her with tears in his eyes and that he wishes that she can have a second chance now that she's young again. Of course Reader doesn't understand at all what he means and Five refers back to what she said and that's when she realizes what he means and that he misunderstood. He ends up blacking out before she can clarify his fears though and her next week is hell because she's so afraid Five won't wake up and will die thinking she never loved him. When he does she sobs, and she finally tells him that he misheard her and that she loves him and wouldn't trade her life with him for anything. (Right up my ally) Just because you wanted them aged up, I made the two of them 18, I hope that is okay!:) I hope that you like it!! @oceanspray5

Word Count:2623

You couldn’t really remember how it happened. The only thing you could remember is a flash of blue appeared and then a boy was there, in a mask. Everyone knew about the Umbrella Academy, you would be lying if you said that you had no idea who they were, but you did indeed recognize the emblem on his uniform. It was weird, however, that he was standing in your backyard. He stared at you, struggling to find something to say before you shrugged and said “Maybe the calculations were off.”

After that he would occasionally pop in without the mask, inviting you out with him when his family was too much or when he was feeling lonely. You didn’t mind, it was nice to have a friend. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if that someone was sometimes a little too blunt.

The two of you sat on a park bench in the middle of the afternoon, sunshine shining down on the two of you when you spoke up “You seem less snarky today.”

“Less?”

“Yes,” you nodded, still waiting for him to say why he was in such good spirits, but his answer never came. You didn’t pry, you knew that eventually he would say something, but right now was not the time.

His friendship came easy, it was like learning how to walk. You didn’t need to remember how to walk, you just knew you could. That’s how it felt to be friends with Five, he was like a walk in the park. It was your feelings that came second, crashing down on you like a piano, leaving you bewildered and wounded.

You never said anything, thinking that it was just a mindless crush that would eventually disappear, leaving things to continue as they normally did. However, you couldn’t help but notice how bright his smile was, how lovely his hair looked, or how he had dimples. None of that made you want to confess, the only thing that made you want to confess is when he would reach out for you. When his fingers would brush against yours in silly moments of bliss, that’s when you felt your chest deflate, leaving you in desperate need for air.

It was Summer, green decorated the world and colors swayed in the hot wind. You watched from the front door of the Hargreeves door. You knew that today was the today. You were just simply waiting for a moment. You were waiting for his schedule to be clear. It was supposed to be clear after lunch and you knew that, so you were here at one in the afternoon, waiting. You were playing with the hem of your shirt when the door opened in a violent fashion. Your eyes gleamed and you stood straighter, but that’s when Five ran past you. You followed suit, ignoring his warnings as he started his own personal mission. You lept towards him, in an attempt to grab hold of him, succeeding only to be surrounded by blue lights. You didn’t let go till Five stopped running.

It was hard to breathe, that was your first thought. You couldn’t seem to get a deep enough breath. Five was screaming, frustration filling up his senses as he tried to escape this hell. Then he ran, back in the direction of the umbrella academy, back to his home. You stood still, noise becoming obsolete as your soul left your body. You felt as if you watched yourself follow Five, you didn’t speak, you didn’t cry. It was only when Five turned to you with a panicked face and teary eyes that you felt your soul return, running over to him and holding him tightly as the two of you sobbed in the wreckage.

Surviving with Five was the easy part, he was your best friend so of course it was easy. The hard part was remembering. Sometimes you would have dreams about home, about your family or friends, sometimes you would even dream about growing up with Five. Growing up normally, as normal as the two of you could be, given how one out of the two of you was especially gifted. You dreamt about school life with Five. Going to prom with Five. Something normal and desperately sweet, but then you would open your eyes and you would be in a crumbling house, feeling hopelessly lost.

It was getting colder and you were looking for something to burn that seemed relatively dry when Five flashed in next to you. “Need help?”

You smiled up at him, giving him a tiny nod as the two of you started to walk into piles of rubble. “Do you ever dream about what could have been?”

“What could have been?”

“Yes,” you picked up a wooden plank “, Sometimes I dream about us, I dream that we met normally, like in the movies.” You explained as Five stared at you. He bit his lip and held his hand out towards you, letting you safely cross a ledge.

“No, I try not to.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I think that if we were normal,” his hand lingered “, I think that things would be different.”

Your eyes locked onto his for a second before he bent down to pick up some branches. You looked away with a small hum “Maybe, but I think we would always find each other. In this lifetime and in others, I think it always had to be the two of us.”

Five swallowed hard, turning to face you. It had been months now, months since the two of you ended up stuck here, and yet you still seemed so lovely. Even when the entire world was gone, you were still his light. He decided then that, no matter what happened it had to be you. It would always be you. “Like soulmates,”

“If you’d like a definition, then sure, like soulmates.”

“Despite everything I believe in, I can find it in my heart that I have always loved you.” Your eyes became wide as you held the wooden plank closer to your chest, mind running rampant as you tried to string a sentence together in the midst of your astonishment. Five grinned, knowing that he must have said something right by the way your cheeks were turning a beautiful red. You let out a melodic laugh as you leaned towards him, pressing a small kiss to his temple, then whispering a sweet “I love you too.”

Your love for each other grew like wildfire with each passing day; each week, month, and year felt as amazing as the last. The depressing parts of the apocalypse were drowned out by kisses and days of being together. Days of surviving together. That was enough to make it all bearable. All the scorching hot days, the freezing nights and rationing seemed so little compared to how the two of you loved each other. It was a few days before the fortieth anniversary of the apocalypse when Five turned to you with the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face. “What?”You giggled lightly, pushing him softly in a lame attempt to get him to answer you.

“I found some candles and guess what started blooming,” he pulled you by your arm over towards a patch of dandelions. They weren’t exactly flowers, but you weren’t complaining.

“Lovely,” you sighed as a gust of wind blew through the two of you, Five’s mouth moving but you couldn’t make out the words until the wind settled and you heard him say “We should get married,”

It was something impulsive and unplanned. You knew that even with the paperclip rings the two of you managed to make for each other wouldn’t be legally binding, but it was enough. Marrying each other gave the two of you just an ounce of normalcy in the middle of the revived earth. It was enough to make the two of you feel good about the world again. Hope was slowly being restored and the two of you had hoped that this small union between the two of you would be enough to settle the horrible images that surrounded both of your minds every night. So with two small vows and “I do’s”, the two of you wore poorly constructed paper clips around your left ring fingers, proudly.

Now you were staring down at that same paperclip ring on a much younger hand. After escaping from the commission and running, you were addressing your situation silently in a fully furnished, not to mention, elaborate living room. You and Five had jumped back into time, and by some fault the two of you became eighteen again. You felt more alive, yes, but more anxious than ever. You wish the two of you had more time. More time to make up a plan for the apocalypse, a better plan. Five sat with his back against yours, muttering soft calculations in the silence of his home. You just wish the two of you had more time.

The time the two of you were running through a clothing warehouse was when Five first saw it. He saw how desperate your eyes looked. Given that the two of you were being shot at the time, but his mind traveled back to when you talked about normalcy. His heart tugged in his chest, seeing your panicked face move closer, grabbing hold of his hand tightly and yanking him under a countertop. Deep down inside Five always felt guilty for bringing you along, although it wasn’t willingly, his chest still felt heavy as the two of you escaped the warehouse alive. He wanted you to have a normal life, that’s all he wanted. He wished he could be normal for you, stable for you and above all be extremely and completely boring for you, so you could have that normal life that you clung to in your dreams.

You watched Five perform a dance you had never seen before, walking around the kitchen avoiding your stare from the table and escaping any attempts of conversation and he did it all with a sweet smile. One moment he would be talking to himself loudly down the hall, but as soon as he saw you, he sent you a sweet look and stopped talking all together. He seemed so strange, and yet you couldn’t put your finger on it. You were sure that he was just trying to figure things out the same as you, but he was worrying you.

You were walking around the house when you heard Klaus calling your name in a excited tone, he straightened when he saw you, bowed and then said “Mrs.Hargreeves,”

“Klaus,”

“How is the husband?” he asked as he sauntered over next to you, sitting on the couch before he patted the cushion next to him for you to take.

You sat with a tiny huff “He’s being,” you trailed off before saying “,Him.” You let out a defeated sigh as you heard Klaus laugh at your anxiety.

“He’s Five, he’s always been moody!”

“Yes, but he loves me.” You looked down at the paperclip wrapped around your finger with a groan “I think he’s just stressed, or something. He gets distant, yes, but usually he isn’t so happily ignoring me?” you vented before you brought a hand up to your forehead gently.

“Why did you marry him anyway?”

You grinned, feeling childish “Maybe, because he was the last man on earth,”  that was the last sentence Five heard before he walked away, locking himself back up in the room filled with equations. 

“I married him because I love him. I really do.”

Something you had learned at the commission was that a gunshot was less dramatic than it was on television, and the worst thing you learned was that the screen wouldn’t fade to black when things got gory. Now you were wishing you were in a movie, as the gun was pointed at you by Hazel, but instead of the bullet going through you a brilliant flash of blue took the bullet for you and Five was falling to the ground, bleeding out from his chest. You let out a scream, catching him before his body could touch the earth, holding him close in your lap as his siblings fought off the assassins.

“Five,” you said his name clearly, holding back tears as your hands were becoming red with his blood.

His eyes darted towards yours in a second and he smiled softly. “Hey,” you dragged him behind the bar, leaving a trail of blood behind the two of you “Hey, Y/N…” You looked down at the sound of your name, tears blocking your vision. “I’m sorry for,” he paused, eyes searching for the words as his mind became foggy and damp “,for everything really. Please, please stop this and maybe you can move on without me and be better. Be happier.” he said breathlessly as Grace rounded the corner at the perfect time.

“What are you talking about,” his eyes fluttered, fighting to stay conscious as he let out a tiny whine before he drifted off into a state of unconsciousness “,Five!”

Then next few days were absolute torture, you sat at Five’s bedside, waiting for some kind of sign that he would wake up. Grace said his vitals were fine, it was only a matter of time till he was awake, but that didn’t start the ball of anxiety from growing deep within your stomach, infecting all of you quicker than any virus known to man. He had to wake up. Did he truly believe that you could ever live without him? That you could ever do any of this without him? Five was the love of your life, your soulmate, the one person who was supposed to grow old with you… again. You were stuck in this body, feeling miserable as you stared down at your unconscious husband, begging to anything, to anybody, that he would wake up soon.

It was around three in the morning when his eyes opened, slowly, but surely they opened. The first thing he focused on was you, seeing the red around your eyes as you stared down at him. “Five,” you let out a heavy sigh, smiling with relief.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m your wife, why wouldn’t I be here?”

“You only married me because I was the last man on earth,” Five’s fresh eyes filled with tears as he watched you let out a small sound of understanding.

“Is this,” you paused, your smiling dropping quickly “,Is this what all this was about? You heard me joking around with Klaus and you thought I was serious?” You questioned, feeling your heartbreak for the man you loved. “Five, my love, I love you with everything fiber of my being. I didn’t mean it like that. I would never leave you. I could never replace you, my love.” you leaned down, kissing his nose gently, giving Five a easy going smile as you pulled away.

Five swallowed hard as he looked up into your eyes, suddenly feeling foolish for how he was feeling. All the guilt he built up, watching you panic. It was because you needed him, you loved him. You couldn’t bear to lose him, just like he couldn’t bear to lose you. He let his tears fall “I’m so sorry, I thought you didn’t want me anymore, I thought-”

You shushed him softly “It’s okay,” you slid into the bed with him, holding him close as he calmed down “, It’s always been you. I could never love anyone else, it’s always going to be you.” You whispered sweetly to him, feeling his body relax into your embrace.

[iceeckos12]

tma fic recs

I’ve seen a couple of fic rec posts floating around. since ive been reading so many excellent fic recently, i thought that id make one as well! please note this list is going to be 99% jonmartin. also buckle up, because this is going to get long.

Completed

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

Notes: This is probably my go-to fic if i want an apocalypse never happened scenario. The jonmartin is wonderful, as is the h/c.

Diary and Prenon-nous la main by luftballoons99

Diary summary:

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Prenon-nous la main summary:

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

Notes: Do you love impeccable safehouse jonmartin characterization? do you love characters grappling with the mortifying ordeal of being known? do you love softness so tender that it makes you want to weep? please read these fic. im begging you.

i’ll tell you about all the times i’ve smiled because of you by cryptidkidprem

Summary:

Martin thinks about their shoes, sitting beside each other on the floor by the bed. Thinks of the way Jon wears Martin’s cardigans more often than he wears his own, the way Martin’s started keeping elastics around his wrist because Jon always forgets his own when they go out.

He thinks about all the gentle touches and fussing over each other they’ve done, and how much is still to come over the next… however long Jon will have him.

They have a long way to go, an entire life to build out of the wreckage Jonah Magnus and Peter Lukas left them, but laying together in a comfortable, sleepy quiet, Martin thinks they’ve got a good start going.

Or, Jon quits the Institute, saves the world, and it turns out to be exactly what he needs in order to heal and start moving forward towards building a life with Martin.

Notes: how many times have i reread this fic? more than i can count. jon quits the institute and it’s just full of soft jonmartins. they get married! god i love them.

go softly by doomcountry

Summary:

And there is nothing else besides this.

Notes: every time i remember this fic i reread it. please heed the tags because martin is blinding jon, but he’s like. blinding jon in the most heartbreaking way possible. idk how the author made this so tender but i know i was certainly crying so!

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by  Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

Summary:

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Notes: Do you like time travel fixits? i sure like time travel fixits. reverb is an excellent one. heavy on the h/c, I wanted to hug jon so so badly. 

Yesterday is Here by  CirrusGrey

Summary:

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Notes: Yet another time travel fixit! also excellent. the teasing was HYSTERICAL. also Im just going to say this now - CirrusGrey in general writes incredible tma fic. You can’t really go wrong.

unassigned supplementals by  bibliocratic 

Notes: I won’t put in a summary just because it’s a long series of oneshots, but bibliocratic’s writing is amazing. Again, you can’t really go wrong with one of their fic!

let the soft animal of your body by autoclaves

Summary:

Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.

In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.

(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)

Notes: this fic really speaks to me a) because i project on martin like crazy and b) because food is also my love language. this fic is incredibly soft and it’s all about cooking!

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” by shinyopals

Summary:

I hope you find your new role as Head of the Institute as rewarding as captaining the Tundra, wrote Elias Bouchard, to Peter Lukas. There are so many people working there: all with their own interesting lives, and all desiring your attention and support. I'm sure you will relish the challenge it will bring and enjoy every moment spent with the fine men and women of the Institute. In time I'm confident they'll become like a family to you.

The Magnus Institute has a new boss. The Magnus Institute also has a new tech support technician. These two facts are unrelated, except they both happen at the same time.

Meanwhile Jon's woken up from being dead for six months and for once he's trying his best. He just wishes Martin would stop avoiding him and answer his messages...

Notes: if you’re looking for a good laugh, this fic is SO SO SO FUNNY. i was dying. basically the magnus institute being an absolute bureaucratic nightmare.

hello my old heart  by  firebirdsuite

Summary:

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Notes: it’s all about the yearning. and trust me, the yearning in this fic? im just. i sure do love jonmartin, and this is such soft, loving jonmartin it just makes you want to cry

two ships passing by pyrites

Summary:

Gerard Keay is 10 years old the very first time he tries to run away from home, right around the time that Jonathan Sims has just come into possession of his first Leitner.

Or: One dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves.

Notes: again, JONGERRY. MY GOODNESS. this fic is beautiful, the writing is absolutely breathtaking and it owns my heart. im so in love with it. the author said you’re going to have emotions about jon and gerry and jongerry and i said OKAY

Terminal Sight by viv_is_spooky

Summary:

Spider silk weaves through the visions of two Seers. Monstrosity is dawning on them both.

Notes: I’d never read a gerryoliver fic before this, but the execution is EXCELLENT and now im sold on the ship forever. This fic has wonderful prose and great characterization and i love it a whole lot.

Incomplete

assistant archivist au by  PitViperOfDoom

Notes: I won’t put a summary since I’m reccing an entire series, but. it is absolutely no secret that i adore jongerry. pit’s assistant archivist au slapped me over the head with some gorgeous jongerry oneshots and then gave me the gift of the main fic (which is still in progress) about head archivist martin. i love this au so so much

dustsceawung by  callmearcturus

Summary:

Martin had always been favored by the summer courts, and moving up north to the little village of Lacuna is a difficult adjustment. It's rainy and lonely and everyone seems to have a strange, distant relationship with the local faerie court.

However: there is a strange man in a cloak who walks past Martin's remote little cottage every few days.

However: there is a moth that keeps getting stuck in Martin's house during the rain.

These events are not as disconnected as they first appear.

Notes: you ever just read a fic that you didn’t know that you needed until after you read it? yeah. featuring the fae and moth jon and excellent characterization.

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Notes: This is also the moment where I reveal that im a sucker for jongerrymartin. please read this fic. gerry is brought back from the dead in s4 and everyone is far better off for it.

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

Summary:

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Notes: this time travel fixit is shaping up to be an absolutely incredible read. i love the way this author writes jon so so much, and the characterization is spot on. this whole fic just satisfies some little part of me. god. also!! bubonickitten’s writing in general? beautiful. please check out their other works.

The Timeline of Theseus by Applea

Jon tries to force the Spiral to send him back, but the Sprial's corridors never twist things quite the way you want them to. Back in 1996, Elias has no idea why or how the Eye made such a powerful Avatar out of an 8 year old, especially when said 8 year old doesn't actually know he has any powers at all. Clearly such a child cannot be left outside the Institute's care. 

Notes: This fic is legitimately brilliant. The author manages to capture the big ADHD mood and the precociousness of baby Jon while managing to write a wonderful storyline. Time travel! Elderly lesbians! A Jonah who is wildly in over his head but was walloped over the head with paternal instinct! Baby Gerry! What more could you possibly ask for?

rooms full of people who do not love each other yet by seaer

Summary:

“Wanted to ask about a book.” The boy has his hand on the counter, and he leans into it, nonchalant. The library is air-conditioned, but by no means frigid, and Jon can’t help but feel sweaty just looking at the layers he’s wearing; what looks like old leather over an olive-green Magnus pullover over his school shirt. “Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Jon says, tetchily, “We’re about to close.”

“I know. Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Notes: I am so in love with this author’s writing style and the way they write the characters!! The jon and gerry friendship is PERFECT and the character interactions are all darling.

if you read these fics please send the authors some love, they definitely deserve it!! 

[newtedison]

my thoughts on the crank palace

i touched about this a bit on twitter (@newtedison_) but i figured i would Try and touch on my points more here (spoilers obv) again, its sort of lengthy

1. im gonna start with talking about the ending because i need to get it out of the way. either i havent read the books in a while and i forgot some canon (which could very well be true, i literally forgot that Bliss was a thing) or this ending makes no sense and is (somehow) setting up for a tdc sequel? so first off, newt was shot in the Head with a Bullet and somehow didnt immediately die? i know that that can happen in real life but it just seems so unlikely that not only would he not die, but he would survive long enough for someone from WCKD to transport him back to their labs and try to revive him. and who the fuck was he talking to? did thomas get newt’s journal at some point and i just dont remember? like i said, either im forgetting stuff or this ending doesnt make sense and is setting up a sequel which...i’ll get to later

2. why was this written? like, what was the point? i understand that this wasnt going to be all sunshine and rainbows but i feel like i was reading torture porn. like, literally all that happens is newt gets tortured (which is described in detail) by WCKD soldiers, has bouts of insane-fueled rage where he KILLS MULTIPLE PEOPLE, and then he dies. ??? what did this contribute to the canon? what was this trying to accomplish? truthfully, i never really wanted a newt-POV...well, anything except for maybe those little nuggets he wrote some time ago. but even if i HAD wanted a newt-POV novella, this is not what i would have wanted. he KNOWS that newt is almost universally the most loved character in this franchise. you can tell because he constantly uses him as a way to get fans in his good graces again. so why on earth would he take that character that so many people love and write a novella where its torture porn and a descent into madness before death? i am not interested in that At All. i’ve read fics (and even written a drabble) where newt is a Crank, and those were more respectful and easier to read than tcp. the parts where newt is having bouts of the Flare were literally exhausting to read; it was described in such vivid and torturous detail that it made me sick reading it. and it didnt help that newt is a character i care a lot about. i didn’t need to know what becoming a Crank felt like. the way it was described in the other books (and even the movies) told me everything i needed to know. the way thomas and everyone found newt at the crank palace in tdc and hes described as obviously not well, but not knowing what exactly happened to him...thats good enough on its own. the mystery of what exactly newt had to endure is part of what gives his journey more emotional depth. not everything needs to be written out and explained. not every gap needs to be filled in. 

3. me saying “the characterization felt off” is going to make some people roll their eyes because ‘duh, sami, the characterization will be off because he’s going insane’ to which i say...exactly. we weren’t really reading a newt-POV novella, were we? even if he isn’t past the Gone in the beginning, hes clearly not the same person we knew him as. the whole novella felt like an uncanny valley situation; i knew i was supposed to be reading about newt, but it felt like i was reading about someone else who looked like him. and that is part of what made this such a disconnect and made me lose interest at parts. not only that, but the world building and lore is inconsistent. newt makes a comment about how it used to rain in the glade, and apparently (as ive been told) that is simply not true. keisha having somehow working cell phone that magically connects her to her family also doesnt make sense. how would they have each others’ numbers? what are the odds that they BOTH found working cell phones in an apocalypse? i get that its a novella but you cant just throw something that crazy in there as a plot convenience. actually work on your plot and world building in a cohesive way, please. and another thing that doesnt make sense...

4. ...is newt finding out that sonya is his sister. if there was anything i would have wanted from a newt-pov novella, it would have been this. him finding out that not only is sonya his sister, but he already knows her post-WCKD. something that would have made this novella actually captivating, contributing something worthwhile to the canon that i would actually want to read, is if newt found out while in the crank palace that sonya was his sister; the Flare would remove that part of the Slice in his brain, and he would realize it was her. then, knowing that he couldnt go past the Gone before seeing her, he would try to find a way to get back to her. he could learn this after thomas and everyone originally see him, so it could match up with the canon. and then, by the time 250 comes along, hes lost all hope of that actually happening, and lashes out to thomas in a fit of rage. the journey of him trying to find his ACTUAL sister would have meant more to me than the story of keisha and dante. trust me, i love a found family trope as much as the next girl. but this series is FULL of the found family trope. it pretty much is the backbone of the franchise. so to see a blood family dynamic would have been a refreshing change of pace that i actually would have been interested in reading. also, the way that newt DOES find out about sonya is...underwhelming. he just randomly says “you remind me of my sister, sonya” to keisha in the WCKD truck. first of all, sonya is not the name you would actually know her by. you would know her by her birth name (which is lizzy? elizabeth?). second, why does he act like he didnt already meet her in the series? when the WCKD doctor tells him sonya is his sister and is alive, hes so surprised. wouldn’t he have known that already? why is there not more emphasis on the fact he already met her? that would have been a really interesting dynamic to explore, and im sad they didnt

5. the pacing and dialogue of tcp is so dragged out. i remember specifically there was a section where newt goes to talk to keisha after she starts abandoning dante, and i swear to god there was a page and a half of text before anything ACTUALLY happened or anyone ACTUALLY said anything. dashner described a launcher at one point as “the energy dependent electric firing projectile device.” that’s SIX words to describe a stun gun. a fucking stun gun! we know what it is! why did you have to use six words??? it just felt like everything was dragged and stretched to the longest it could possibly be and it added to the exhaustion i felt while reading it

6. okay i cant end it without talking about newtmas. its very obvious by now that newtmas is a VERY large part of this fanbase. its clearly the most popular ship and what keeps a lot of people interested in this series. even the marketing team for the MOVIES used newtmas as a advertising tactic (i.e.; using thomas and newt standing face to face as a thumbnail for the trailer, emphasizing newtmas based questions in interviews, even making a fucking facebook memories video for them. yes that last one is real). not only does dashner use newt as a way to lure fans in; he also uses newtmas. the parts that were sprinkled into this were so obvious that it didnt feel authentic. i cant speak for the original trilogy; i dont know the culture around ships back then, and i dont know how much it influenced his writing at the time. but the scenes in those books felt more genuine than tcp. by genuine i mean; he wrote scenes without a relationship in mind, but the chemistry had noticeable subtext that, while unintentional, was largely agreed upon by the larger audience. the parts of newtmas he added into tcp felt artificial and forced, likely as a way for people to take snippets of and use as a free marketing tool for him. one example you might have already seen; “he had already gotten used to his post-thomas, post-WCKD life.” the fact that dashner SPECIFICALLY used the phrase “post-thomas” rather than “post-his friends” or something similar shows that he is using newtmas as a hook on purpose. not only that, but to make newt’s last thoughts as he died “tommy. tommy will understand...” is...wow. first of all, i never wanted to know what newt’s dying thoughts were, but thanks, i guess? and second, when we all initially thought newt died underneath thomas with a gun to his head, i was pretty much inferred that newts last thoughts would probably be about thomas; they would sort of have to be, given the circumstances. so adding that in gives me the same feeling that “i’m coming for you, newt” at the end of the fever code gave me. not as offensive, but written very much on purpose. and the ending is implying that there will somehow be a sequel where thomas gets newt’s journal from...someone. at this point, i can only think that this sequel will retroactively make newtmas canon somehow. now that newt has been confirmed as gay, it could happen. which brings me to my last point...

7. hearing dashner confirm newt is gay was already mind-boggling before. now that i’ve read the crank palace...im angry. im very angry. i think its safe to say that newt is the character that suffers the most in this series. you can argue with me but hes definitely high on the list, if not #1. so; you take this character. you give him a horribly sad arc in the original trilogy, then decide to expand upon it and tell us, your largely QUEER fanbase, exactly how painful and torturous his last days were, in detail. and then you tell us he’s gay. something that is never mentioned in the canon, only in an offhanded reply to a tweet of someone calling you out. on a base level, i can understand why people would be happy. representation (i guess), seeing themselves in the character, having their headcanons be confirmed. great. but what i see is you telling your largely queer fanbase “hey, you see the only confirmed gay character? im going to literally write torture porn about him before killing him off and offer it to you like im providing a service to your community.” how fucked up is that? “hey, kids, if youre gay, you WILL be violently tortured and become violent and a danger to the ones you love. then you will die and your love will never be reciprocated.” what a message! and if he DOES end up retroactively making newtmas “canon” in some weird sequel...i will start foaming at the mouth. THIS is an example of how not all queer representation is good or genuine.

i’ve definitely forgotten some points but this is long enough already. let me know if you agree or if theres anything else you want to add! im interested in what you guys think

(8. I JUST REMEMBERED!!! if WCKD needed to study newt so bad bc sonya is his sister and is immune while he isnt, why did they let him run around the crank palace in the first place??? you cant test his vitals or anything you’re literally just watching him. what is the point????)

[prompt-master]

Would you be willing to share how you might rewrite Yukizome, Sakakura, and Munakata to make them likable characters (if not ppl Bc there’s a big difference)???

ahhhhhhh this ask got me so stupidly excited that I was like wavin my hands around. I think about how to rewrite their characters OFTEN. very often. I’m gonna go with likeable character over likeable people because I think they work better where they’re actually not that likeable people. 

The one I think about the MOST is Munakata. He was SUCH wasted potential and I partially blame the medium for that (a single season anime is too constrained for future, it needed more time and care to be a proper story). But Munakata is actually so close to being a compelling character but they made some MAJOR mistakes with him. This ended up getting really long and more like a 3 page ADHD ramble essay. SO IM VERY SORRY to anyone who cannot read this but TYTYTY if you did because these ideas make me very happy! Oh it’s only about Munakata btw because of how long it got

The thing about Munakata is that he is designed to be a foil to Naegi. In fact a majority of dr3 future FOCUSES on this foil dynamic. It is Naegi’s hope vs Munakata’s hope. The World’s hope vs The FF’s hope. And more importantly it is True Hope vs Corrupted Hope.

This is a fantastic concept...so why didn’t it work in canon? I think that the biggest most glaring issue with Munakata’s hope is his logic. Munakata is meant to be a logical man, although with corrupted morals that lead him astray. Yet in canon his logic is laughably infallible. For example as a major figure in the FF and someone who wants to spread hope....why would he tell Naegi to kill himself? More importantly why does he continue to try and slaughter Naegi? The issue here isn’t from the fact that he wants him dead but from the fact that he is under the IMPRESSION that this entire game is being broadcast to the world.

Think about this for a second. In Munakata’s eyes he is going to kill the Ultimate Hope, an international symbol of a better life, live on TV. He doesn’t just want to kill the Ultimate Hope..he wants to do it BRUTALLY as a MAJOR FIGURE OF THE FF. IMO this should have happened later on as the game furthers the emotional turmoil in Munakata’s head and he eventually snaps and gives in to the desire to kill Naegi despite the fact that this is live. And then there should be CONSEQUENCES for that. I wanted so badly a realization where Munakata realizes that he is hurting the Ultimate Hope in front of what he believes is the entire world. 

Another issue with Munakata’s logic is saying things such as...implying that the HPA KG was...just a game. I mean...people DIED. it's not hard to see how wrong that logic is. you can't say “this is the real world now” when what Naegi experienced WAS the real world. I think that this could be fixed through a bit of world building. DR3 Future is rather isolated from its world. We don’t really know much about the world and its dynamics. I think it would make perfect sense if the general public viewed the HPA KG as a tv show, they got numb to the sight and even those untouched by despair had a hard time connecting that these are REAL people suffering. With this previously established Munakata expressing that the KG was not real would make a lot more sense and play into his corrupted idea of hope. 

There is also Munakata’s connection to his other friends. Now I’ve talked about this before but the game was clearly designed to BREAK Munakata and Naegi. This way the FF would die, both the FF and World’s hope would be broken, and upon seeing this Mitarai would have no choice but to deploy his own forced hope. So it makes perfect sense that Yukizome’s death would break him (in fact if she hadn’t died in that way, her NG code was designed to be Munakata’s fault). But something about it felt...superficial. Again I think this is the mediums fault but it almost feels as though Munakata just forgets about Yukizome until later. I think they should spend more time establishing his pain and what he has lost and why this pushes him to kill. In his eyes if she can die then nothing else matters. It should be THE breaking point, not the first push. I do like the betrayal he feels towards realizing she had despair but it needed more time to fester. 

And his relationship with Sakakura also felt weak. In all honesty it was hard for me to feel as though they were ever friends. Sakakura is written as though he just follows Munakata like a loyal dog and Munakata just orders him around. Establish their relationship more! Why are they such good friends? Why is Sakakura important to him? And more importantly why did Munakata decide to cruelly gut Sakakura knowing he was about to confess? This is because he believed that Sakaura was despair and that his confession was more manipulation, but they didn’t show this well at ALL. Munakata just comes across as a major a-sshole who does not care. I also personally found it distasteful that when changing his heart Munakata only seemed to cry for Yukizome. I understand that was his love interest but Yukizome at the end of the day killed herself. Sakakura however was an unnecessary betrayal he took into his own hands AS HE HIMSELF KILLED HIM. He should have more guilt over that! Not just in that moment where he runs to Sakakura, but ahead of time as well! Maybe even DURING his rampage they could have shown him having moments of guilt but he is so absorbed in the idea that all despairs have to die that he doesn’t even realize he has become despair in the name of hope.

A BIG weakness on Munakata’s part comes with interacting with other characters. He is a man who should know how to take charge, lead, and doesn't know what to do when things are getting too crazy even though he THINKS he does. Munakata is heavily flawed, OBVIOUSLY flawed, but many of the interactions with him are as tho his rampage isnt a big deal. There should be reasons for this! Why do people trust Munakatas guidance so much? I dont know! All ive seen from him is that hes insane! Maybe even pieces where around others hes a lot nicer so you can understand why they follow him, even though hes ready to gut Naegi alive with a flaming katana. His interactions with others feel like the writers just wanted to see the next big evil thing they could think of, but for Munakata’s character this doesn't make sense because he was appointed a high status in the foundation for a reason. Maybe even have people say they disagree with some of his methods but at the end of the day he gets the job done!

There is another major missed opportunity here and it's why Muanakata wants Naegi dead so badly in the first place. The remnants. Hiding terrorists in the apocalypse is a PERFECTLY valid reason to want someone dead and think they're a bad guy! But I think since Naegis initial arrest was already so hostile and violent we get the sense that the FF is simply just...crazy. 

And let’s think about what Munakata WANTS from Naegi. He does not just want Naegi dead he wants something worse. He wants Naegi to suffer first. He thinks that Naegi doesnt understand his own personal pain. He thinks that because Naegi protected the remnants he must also not care about the suffering the remnants caused. He wants Naegi to feel despair and then die. This is important to his corrupted hope. He thinks the suffering must be shared in order to understand who must die, but he is creating a cycle of pain. Tie this back to the broadcasting issue. He wants Naegi to break for everyone to see. I think..and this is just a concept..I think it would have been a great idea for Munkata to force Naegi to watch the despair video so that he has no choice but to understand. 

AND themes are majorly important to Danganronpa. And I don’t think its a stretch to say that there are parallels between Munakata and Naegi. In fact I would say that there are aspects of the og trio in this new trio. I think it would have been really cool if they showed how our favorite trio could have ended up if they had been corrupted as well. But the parrellels dont stick strongly. I think it would have been cool to show a past where Munakata’s idealism lies more strongly than Naegis. As the student council president there was a time where he himself had to use his words to solve problems. Perhaps he learned that sometimes his words made things worse. Munakata does not have Naegi’s talent of emotional intelligence. He is a man of action over words. So he interprets this as WORDS being the problem rather than understanding he does not have these skills. Especially when the apocalypse breaks out, it becomes all action over words. So he sees Naegi who is all talk as a genuine threat who will let everyone die through his “weak ineffective” idea of hope. 

Another parallel could be drawn from the fact that they both have hope based careers. Their job is too keep things hopeful. Maybe Naegi stays safe doing public broadcasted speeches, while Munakata is on the field weeding out despairs. This would cause Munakata to feel as though Naegi is doing no real work yet getting all the credit for being a savior.

Munakata constantly complains that Naegi does not know true pain. But he and we as an audience have followed Naegi through his entire process of trauma. We know he is in the wrong. But what do we as an audience know about Munakata’s suffering? We are shown almost nothing! There are some implications, but for how intense he is implications are not enough. We need to see his suffering. We should see how he has witnessed death. Yukizomes death is not nearly enough for this because he talks as though he has suffered for years. How can we as an audience understand that when we have never seen it? How can we understand Munakata when he is outright denying Naegi’s trauma that we KNOW existed with no proper justification for his reasoning?

I also believe that Munakata should have died. It actually upsets me a bit that he was PLANNED to die but didn't. He should have died protecting Naegi after all that suffering and relentless brutality he offered him. Munakata again is a man of action over word, and protecting Naegi with his last breath is the perfect way to show how in the end he changed. Especially when all he wanted initially was for Naegi to die. I find that much more satisfying than just…...walking off to who knows where.

So lets recap some changes. Munakata needs a proper display of his past traumas and his relationship with Sakakura and Yukizome. Munakata needs a proper display of his work relationships and the respect he has earned. Munakata needs to fall into corruption at a better pace, and have geniune reasons for his illogical attacks on Naegi. Munakata needs to care more for his friends. Munakata needs to deal with the turmoil of wanting to hurt Naegi while he believes the world is watching. Munakata needs to die for Naegi

This has gotten long...and I still have things to say. There is so much to make Munakata a good character. Future had a lot of potential and is amazing for a rewrite concept. As for Sakakura and Yukizome since this has gotten long feel free to ask for another round of this individually when asks are open again! If you read all of this somehow….TYSM

[keycrash]

so i just finished the zero escape trilogy blind and i absolutely loved iiit tho i am seriously annoyed at the lack of epilogue for d team and the fact that kyle's importance was totally dropped (i get that the another time pov was supposed to be the player an dpossibly the 'god' of free the soul/delta that akane had revealed to her but that doesnt explain kyle's absence)

i’m glad you liked it!! i’m surprised you managed to stay unspoiled if you followed me beforehand lmao. but yeah those two critiques were really common following the game’s release-- as for the kyle thing, i will add that part of uchikoshi’s explanation for that was that the “another time” part of vlr was added fairly last minute (it wasn’t even voiced in japanese) as a means of creating a more ‘hopeful’ ending in the wake of the tsunami that hit japan, iirc. it was never made clear to english fans until after the fact, but it was meant as meta-commentary rather than actual events taking place in the game, apparently. a lot of us were still disappointed, but. yknow.

rest of the messages:

carrying on my previous message im not disappointed a lot was lef tot figur eout e.g. that delta was probably lying about the nuclear war (unless he caused it himself) in line with the 'fanatic bio r = fabrication' thing, and the fact the 'final choice' is solely up to the player i.e. Delta's god, and that the 'way for clover and alice to return from the another time ending in vlr' is implied to be the transporters Akane recovered in the VLR timeline

yeah i actually did really like the fanatic bio r/fabrication thing being ambiguous in isolation, i just felt a little weird about it in the context of delta’s motives; it seemed like the game was intentionally as confusing as possible about his motives in order to make them appear complex instead of actually building them logically

wrt the last thing, this made me come up with a theory that i think is sound but is like HOLY SHIT, i.e. alice and clover get sent via transporter thousands of years into the past and then Alice becomes the original priestess of amen-ra who via ~shenanigans~(involving antarctic ice?) then becomes all-ice and either via clover (transported) or delta/phi shes saved in the 20th century and eventually leaves the mandrake root for hongou to manufacture soporil-b and make all three ZE games possible

i had this theory too before ztd came out!! that alice was gonna get sent back and become all-ice. since it was never touched on in ztd i just kind of dropped it but it’s still fun to think about

last note, i am soo conflicted on akanes portrayal in ztd, on the one hand it is sort of a nice synthesis of her pragmatic self and her bubbly self, on the other hand i feel like it severely undercut how awe inspiring she became in both the 999 and vlr endings that felt like she was a being that existed supeceding timelines and was on par with delta/brother (phi shouldve also had a similarly pivotal role in ztd too tbh)

oh trust me i hate how akane was portrayed in ztd; i think showing a bit of her everyday personality & banter with others would be a great idea, but when i imagine that kind of akane i imagine more like the akane of end or beginning-- she’s practical, pragmatic, a bit morbid, teasing. not the hyper-emotional impulsive reactions that ztd akane had. taking away any sense of power or control from her without even justifying it made her jarringly different from her past two iterations. it didn’t even seem like she had a plan going in to save the world!! and yeah, phi was totally dropped in ztd; she was in character for the most part, but narratively her arc led nowhere, she was painfully absent in the latter half of the game, and the developments we got concerning her had more to do with the material state of her existence/past rather than any emotional trust or opening up by her.

uhhh overall on ztd its weird because with both 999 and vlr i found them kiind of tedious and full of stuff i hated for a large part of the game, and then as they got to the end with the last few hours everything came together so perfectly it blew my mind. zts lacked that completely, but it was also more enjoyable the entire way through, so maybe i cant say i enjoyed it less than the others

for this one it’s more personal taste (i found 999 very fun to play through, though i DEFINITELY agree it gets tedious if you’re playing the original and can’t skip puzzles you’ve already done, but vlr is very much tedious either way); i will agree though that ztd is actually fun to play all the way through with the fragment system, even if the fragment system both adds to and detracts from the story A Lot in different ways

vlr is prooobably the best game i think, which makes sense bc my four favourite characters are akane (no.1, incredible metafictional mastermind ascends to ultimate self), sigma ('congratulations. you played yourself' on loop for 45 years), diana (principled will of steel, "do no harm" even if it creates the apocalypse), and phi (i need so much more phi content), 2 of which are from VLR jfieofuefji. yes D team is my fave

you’re valid, i loooove the vlr characters & story even if the actual experience of playing it knocks it down a few points below 999 for me-- d team is a beautiful little mess and they deserved better treatment in ztd kasmdflaksjdf

[themaskedwriter]

Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear. So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central.

Author clues: An occasional angst queen with a sweet tooth who lives in a very fine country.

Generally, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, it’s never good news. It’s death and mayhem and all manners of misdeeds just waiting to ruin your night, your morning and possibly the entire week that follows. Your solution had been to move around a lot. If you never stay long enough in one place, then death and mayhem and all those misdeeds never get a chance to catch up with you. Unless-

“Someone better be dying,” you grunt when you answer, not bothering with greetings or pleasantries. Anyone calling at, fuck, 3.22 am can frankly go fornicate themselves.

“I need your coordinates.”

“No.”

“Come on, I promise, it’s just for the night.”

“Last time you said that, Wilson, you stayed for a week and Captain America bled all over my couch.”

At the other end of a very unstable line - is he fucking flying and calling? - Sam winces, because yeah, last time was a fucking rollercoaster of bad, and you ended up moving as soon as they were out the door and refusing to answer Sam’s texts for two weeks just to be sure you could get some actual peace and quiet.

“No one is bleeding. Much.”

“Sam…”

“I swear on my sainted nana’s grave no one will be bleeding when we get there.”

We? Jesus, did someone shoot Captain America again? You groan and roll over, pressing your face into the pillow.

“It’s just one night, I swear, we just need someplace to lay low before we can move on and haul ass back to base.”

You hate Sam Wilson. You do, you’ll put it in writing, you’ll write a goddamn op ed for the fucking New York Times listing all the reasons he is a terrible, terrible friend. All you wanted was a nice, quiet life, a little time to figure shit out after an honorable discharge from the Army, and then that idiot had to go and become a goddamn superhero with his goddamn wings and the goddamn Avengers as his goddamn squad. He owes you. He owes you so much and he’ll owe you even more- Aw, fuck.

“I’ll give you twelve hours before I kick you out on your asses.”

“You are the best, I’ve always said that, you know. The best. The goat-”

“Please, never call me that again.”

“Sourpuss.”

“I’ll bill you for anything you destroy,” you mutter, ending the call before Sam can say anything.

Rolling over on your back again, you breathe in deeply through your nose, staring at the light ceiling panelling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You text Sam your coordinates, telling him where to find the spare key because you draw the line at getting up to act as a welcome committee at this unholy hour.

>>Thanks, I owe you one. S

>>U owe me several. Don’t expect mints on the pillows and dont. fuckin. wake me. >:(

>>You’re adorable when you’re cranky. We’ll be there in about an hour.

>>Fuk u

Sam Wilson is a terrible, terrible friend, but at least he doesn’t actually wake you. He’s even up and looking far too chirpy when you crawl down from your sleep loft four hours later. Seriously, fuck Sam Wilson. Fuck Sam Wilson, and-

“I like your digs.” He hands you a cup of coffee and thankfully does not attempt a hug.

“Yeah, well, makes running away from unbidden houseguests easy,” you grunt back, taking a sip of the glorious coffee.

Sam snorts, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “As if you could fit actual houseguests in here. You’re lucky I spent half my childhood playing Tetris, or we would’ve had a problem getting in here.”

You glance over his shoulder, at the blanket-covered lump on your couch. Granted, the damn thing is from IKEA and required at least five curse words for every step in the assembly instructions, but the covering is a nice, pale shade of beige. “So who’s bleeding all over my place this time?”

“No one’s bleeding, I patched ‘im up just to preemptively get you off my ass.”

“So he was bleeding. That why you needed to crash?”

The way Sam hesitates makes it clear that blood loss is not the culprit here. You glare at him, and Sam Awful Terrible Friend Wilson rolls his eyes at you and walks past you and up to the couch, pulling down the covers.

“That’s…” You stare. There’s no better way to put it. “Sam, he’s- Why is his arm detached? Why is it wriggling?”

“We had a minor snafu. Barnes got dosed with something and it made his arm go a little haywire. It’s wired into his nervous system, so we had to do an emergency detachment until the thing is out of his system so he won’t helicopter himself into the sky or, you know, hurt anyone.”

“So why is it still twitching like a zombie limb? Please, don’t tell me he’s turning into a zombie. I can’t deal with a zombie apocalypse. I use Zombies! Run, but that’s the closest I ever want to come to the undead because even with that I fucking jump out of my skin when I start hearing heavy breathing in my ears and-”

“He’s not turning into a zombie, jeez!” Sam tosses the covers back in place, covering up Barnes and the twitchy arm. “It’s still receiving faint signals, so it’s acting like a nervous grandma. It’s completely harmless. Ha! I gotta remember that one when he wakes up.”

Jesus H. Christ. Where is a brick wall when you need one? “Sam!”

“Stark’s coming to pick us up in two hours, we’ll be out of your hair. We’ll even take the arm with us.”

You give an indignant sniff, heading back to the little ladder that leads up to your loft. “Fuck you, Wilson, I’m going back to bed and won’t come down until you and Terminator over there are out of my house.”

“Aw, come on! We’re delightful! Look, Barnes is even more delightful because he is asleep so you won’t even have to deal with him being Mr. Personality!”

You could tell him that from your perspective, Barnes is the preferable option in this situation because he is asleep and thus not bothering you. Instead, you opt for a succinct reply in the form of your middle finger and start to ascend the ladder, coffee mug tightly gripped in one hand. Saturdays are holy, okay? Saturdays are for waking up late, having coffee and then crawling back to your bed where the covers are still warm and just wait for the sun to rise high enough in the sky that you’re tempted to go outside. Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear.

To be fair, Sam cuts out his little comedian act, and shuts up. There’s the odd shuffling from below, but nothing more, and you manage to doze off, wrapped like a burrito in your covers. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you have houseguests.

Until Sam pinches your toe.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers, shaking your foot and you’re surprised you don’t kick him in the face.

“Piss off.”

“Delightful. We’re rolling out in five. I told Stark to bring you some decent breakfast as thanks.”

Well. Breakfast is an acceptable offering. There better be waffles, or you might need to kick Stark. With a grunt, you start extricating yourself from your covers, rooting around until you find a cardigan to wrap yourself in. Sam’s by the couch when you get down, ripping the covers from Sleeping Barnes and shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, Princess Elsa, our ride’s almost here.”

Barnes, who seems to appreciate sleeping as much as you do, tries to turn over and away from the rude awakening, but apparently manages to tickle himself on the detached arm, because the man gives a very high-pitched yelp before he very ungracefully tumbles off the couch and lands on his ass.

“Morning, Barnes.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” Barnes grumbles with a glare that is… impressive.

“There’s coffee if you can inhale it in the next five minutes,” Sam tells him, shrugging of his umpteenth cuss-out in the last six hours.

“Bring… coffee…”

You’re not a rude host. Unwilling, but not rude. Coffee is a glorious drink, and you would never deny anyone the elixir of Life and General Functionality. You pour a cup for the man, bringing it to him, and Barnes stares at you, then at Sam, then takes a second to look around, mouth slowly falling open.

“Wilson, I think I’m-”

“What? You still not sobered up from the funky gas?”

“Either that, or I fell through the looking glass. Am I gonna grow and have my legs sprout through the window? Because that is not good,” Barnes says, gulping down his coffee and then peering up at you. “I’m not sure if you’re real, but either way, I have very impressive thighs. Hi, I’m Bucky”

He fires off a smile that is probably meant to look charming, but only succeeds in looking loopy. Sam, finally getting a fraction of the embarrassed he should be for dragging himself and this crazy ass man into your home, groans and facepalms. It is hilarious.

“Sam, I hate to say this, but I like this guy.”

“Sam, the hallucination is talking to you.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” you tell him, leaning down to pinch his left shoulder. “It’s a tiny house, made even tinier because yikes, you are built.”

Barnes, Bucky, yelps and his coffee sloshes dangerously against the edges of his mug.

“Well, that just seems very unfair to me. And Steve. Oh, jeez, and Bruce. Do you have anything against swole?”

“First of all, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, and second of all, if you’re Bucky Barnes then I’d very much like to know who the fuck taught you the word ‘swole’.”

Bucky Barnes, the most handsome centenarian in the entire world, is a delight, all smiles and jokes, and Sam is terrible for dragging him away. A godawful wind kicks up outside, heralding the arrival of Tony Stark, and you decide this is way too many superheroes. One is acceptable. Two is pushing it. Bucky, having realized he has in fact not shrunk, takes his time looking around while they head out and ends up clipping his head and oh, how people would blush if they heard the downright filth that Sergeant James B. Barnes lets out as he stumbles down the stairs.

Stark makes a joke about custody exchanges, and you tune out more than half because he brought breakfast, and oh sweet Mary above, there are waffles. Sam and Bucky say their goodbyes, and you wave them off, too engrossed in the gorgeousness of waffles drenched in maple syrup and topped with fresh berries. For this, you could almost be okay with a superhero or two crashing for a night.

Not that you’ll ever be.

You have limits.

So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central. First it’s Sam, again. Then it’s Stark. He almost gets his ass kicked out when he goes on and on about how you can live with the bare minimum of technology. You definitely kick him out when he wants to chip your house so people won’t have to call you at the asscrack of dawn to let you know, not ask, they are incoming. He does get back in your good graces by giving you a double serving of waffles.

Then, in quick succession, it’s Steve, Sam and Rhodey, Bucky, Barton and Bucky again. Most of them are okay house guests. Barton wins points by appearing genuinely interested in how you’ve set up your living space, quizzing you about layouts and building and the pros and cons of having your entire life confined to 240 square feet. He also loses those points when you wake up to find him sitting on the edge of the sleep loft, overlooking the house. Sam and Rhodey together is not as big of a disaster as one might think, mainly because Rhodey occasionally pulls rank on Sam and honestly? Thank god. Steve, bless him, tries to bend over backwards to not put you out, and his calls all include at least 75 permutations of an apology for calling.

Bucky.

He keeps his arm in place for the next couple of times. On the rare occasions when he’ll call in the middle of the day, he’ll always knock and wait until you open, he’ll insist on “earning his keep”, which is how you come to be the recipient of flowers, breakfast, and a very rare bathroom concerto that Bucky doesn’t know you overheard. The man has a very good singing voice, and it makes your heart skip a beat when he croons “It’s Been a Long, Long Time”. He’s the easiest to get along with, even one early morning when you wake up to his shuffling and cussing because your coffee maker refuses to cooperate. He doesn’t mind the quiet, doesn’t fret around like Stark (who insists that the laptop loaded with every streaming service imaginable and the usernames and passwords for each laid out on a sticky note that he left there is absolutely not a pity gift but a sound investment for both of your continued sanity).

“D’you like this?” Bucky asks one evening, his voice floating up from the living room area.

“I mean, it could be worse. I could be housing Stark for the night,” you quip, rolling over and making something that might be construed as a tumble to get to the edge of the bed.

“I feel like that might have been an insult wrapped in another insult. But that’s not what I meant.”

You can only see Bucky’s feet in the soft light of a lamp, peeking out from the covers. He always sleeps with his feet facing the door, always on his back. The only time he hasn’t was the first time when Sam brought him, and something in you feels bad that Bucky can’t relax even in his sleep.

“No?”

“I meant… this. Living in a small box. Moving around all the time. It’s… Doesn’t it ever get hard? After I got- When I got back, Steve almost had to fight me to move into the Tower. I wanted to go home, you know. To Brooklyn. I don’t know, it was a stupid thought, but I kept thinking if I go back, it’s all still there. The apartment we lived in, the same streets and the same shops and… my family. It felt weird to make another home, but now I don’t know if I could move again.”

His voice is soft, a far cry from the persona he’s portrayed as in the media. The Winter Soldier is hard edges and cold steel, but Bucky Barnes… Bucky Barnes is soft, a whisper in the darkness and a longing for something that’s no longer there.

“It wasn’t that hard for me, because I needed this. I was out there, in all of that big space with nothing but orders and trusting that someone else knew what we were supposed to do. I’d had a place back in Atlanta before, and I’d packed up all my stuff and rented the place to some college kids. They’d already moved out when I got back, and I thought I was gonna go nuts the first night back. That place had felt like a shoebox before I shipped out and now it was so… big. Had a friend who made these kinds of houses, so he helped me build one pretty much from scratch and my first night here I slept like a baby.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it.” God, he sounds almost a bit panicked, like he’s insulted you.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s not for everyone. I just feel I have myself better together on less than 300 square feet. I mean, I don’t go from house to house. This is still a home. It’s just a home I can move around with when I need to see new places.”

There’s a little huff. “Like the middle of nowhere, New Mexico?”

You glance back to the small window next to your bed, at the clouds tinted in burnt orange and vivid pink, the sun setting slowly into the vast horizon. “Yeah. I’ve never been here. I wanted to see it, and now I have.”

“You know, that sounds like I’m gonna wake up in the desert tomorrow morning because a bird is trying to steal my covers.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you tease, crawling back to roll yourself into your own covers again. “I wouldn’t leave you with that blanket. It’s my favourite.”

“Yeah.” His voice is almost a whisper, but you can still make out his next words: “Mine, too.”

When he leaves the next morning, something feels different. He’s tentative at breakfast, burns a few pancakes and once again clips his head on the doorway heading out when Nat touches down the quinjet to pick him up. Breakfast changes hands, Nat fills you in on some gossip. Bucky’s shoulders are slumped when he trudges up and into the cargo hold.

“Wait!”

You run inside, depositing the bag of breakfast on your counter, grabbing the blanket from the couch and folding it into a mess that would pass exactly zero inspections before heading back out. Nat’s joined Bucky on the quinjet landing, and she quirks and eyebrow when you all but thrust the bunched up fabric into Bucky’s arms.

“A bit of home,” you blurt out, immediately feeling heat creep up your cheeks. “Can’t hurt to have more of that.”

Bucky chuckles, “No… I guess it can’t.”

You move three days later. The New Mexico desert makes you restless, makes you itch for something else. For a couple of weeks, you drift further and further north, looking for a place that doesn’t put you on edge. You plough through the Midwest, but there’s always something. You text Sam just to become annoyed and feel something else. He calls a couple of times, facetimes you on your birthday so the whole gang can wish you happy birthday. you smile, taking a screenshot to save the memory for a rainy day. They’re all there, sitting around an obscenely big dinner table, glasses raised, mouths open mid-sentence. Stark looks magnanimous as always, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Steve’s got an expression that’s somewhere between his Captain America-smile and a genuine Steve Rogers-grin. Bucky… Bucky is not there. Or at least you can’t see him. Maybe he’s at the very end of the table, obscured by the others. Not that you care. You don’t. You absolutely don’t. You definitely don’t look for him in the picture every time you bring it up.

You move again. It’s too calm. You’ve had no superheroes visiting in two months, no late night calls inquiring about coordinates. Stark’s laptop is shoved into a drawer where you can’t see it, there’s a new blanket draped over your couch pretending it’s always been there.

>>Coordinates?

The text from the unknown number comes in late one evening when you’re gearing up to let bygones be bygones and forget the Midwest ever existed. You could cry with how happy it makes you, even though a text means one or more of them is in trouble and maybe you should be a little worried, too. The Avengers are good people, but they’re not unlike cats, dragging others with them. Like murder bots and weird aliens. You dutifully send your coordinates, biting your lip before adding:

>>Don’t wake me, and don’t make me wake up to bad guys on my porch

>>They scare the neighbours

>>I have a reputation to think of

Your only neighbours are trees, but still. No one likes bad guys.

Setting your phone down, you tuck yourself into bed. Whoever’s coming knows where to find the key to get in. Stark, again, wanted to set you up with some biometric doohickey that would make it impossible for anyone not in the system to get in, since “keys are so unreliable, look at Parker, he could probably pick it after five minutes on youtube”. He stopped talking when you pointed out your house is a glorified box on wheels, and that there are far easier ways to get in than to pick the lock or even rush the door. You’d had to tell him he was not allowed to turn your house into a tank.

When the sun rises, waking you up with a well-placed ray right in your eyes, you expect to hear… something. Sam, Nat and Steve are all early wakers, there would be the telltale sounds and scents of breakfast being prepared. Tony, much as he tries to vehemently deny it, snores. God, is it Barton? You raise your head, and let out a sigh of relief to see the loft empty save for yourself and the sparse furnishings. Could still be Barton, he’s just learned to stay out of your nest and accept that he’s not top of the pecking order here.

But when you get down from your loft, there’s no one there. Blinking, you look around, as if whoever texted you last night will jump out from some impossible corner. The couch is untouched, everything is where you left it. Was it Bruce and he couldn’t de-Hulk so he slept outside? You check your phone to see if there are any unread text or missed calls, but there’s nothing.

>>Did you leave already?

The reply comes within seconds.

>>No. Outside.

So… Bruce? Furrowing your brow, you go pull a pair of sweats from the hamper, yawning wide before you head for the door. You’re not exactly sure what to expect, but finding the clearing you’ve set up camp in empty is… anticlimactic, to say the least.

“Hello?” you call out, stepping down the stairs, a shiver running down your spine from the cool morning air.

Nothing. The wind sighs in the tops of the trees, a crack from a branch breaking the calm. Ahead of you, something catches your eye, far too colourful to be part of the wooded area.

“What the hell?”

Folded neatly on the ground is your blanket, your old blanket, the one you gave to-

“Sam told me you’d been moving around a lot. Figured maybe you could need a bit more home.”

You yelp and whirl around to find Bucky sitting on the stairs, filling up the doorway and smiling smugly at you.

“How-” You look at him, then around at the clearing and back to Bucky, pointing at him. “You- What?”

“Sorry, I… thought it would be fun. It was creepy, wasn’t it?” He scratches the back of his head, getting of the stairs, approaching you slowly. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Are you okay?” It’s second nature by now to give him a once-over, to expect bruises and scrapes and, let’s be honest, blood. Seeing nothing doesn’t necessarily mean he’s okay. These yahoos are notorious about playing off little things like internal bleedings, cracked ribs and concussions.

“What, no! I mean, yes, yes, I’m okay. I wasn’t in any scuffle. Haven’t been for a while. You can check me if you like.”

Pursing your lips, you look him up and down while you circle him, prodding at his ribs, his hands, his cheekbone. Satisfied that he’s not injured, you come to a stop in front of him.

“Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you again, but… why are you here?”

“Been travelling. Sort of like this, but without the… tiny house, was it? I thought about what you said, about home and all that, and I realized that maybe I need to reevaluate what home means. Going away to figure out what I miss and what I need.”

He raises his right hand to drag the fingertips along the soft blanket, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It sounds cheesy as all hell, but your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat, because he looks so content, so relaxed.

“Yeah? Did you find the answer then? What’s home?” you ask, cursing your voice for sounding breather than you ever intended it to.

“See, I packed light. Couple changes of clothes, toothbrush, the regular stuff… and this.” He takes a firm hold of the blanket with both hands, pulling it from you, shaking it out. “And I missed a lot of things in the beginning. People… things… comforts. But I learned to make do without all of those. Only thing I couldn’t get past missin’…”

You watch wide eyed as Bucky wraps the blanket over your shoulders, tugging at the ends to bring it in tightly over your chest, cocooning you in it.

“…is in this blanket,” he finishes, his gaze focused on where his hands holds it close. “I missed mornings with you. Even the first morning when I woke up feelin’ like a drunk sailor after pub crawl thinking Stark or someone had shrunk me down to the size of a bean. I missed your tiny house and your couch and your coffee and… and you.”

And you.

Maybe it’s another cliché, but you can’t help the smile, the sudden joy that bubbles up along with the sensation of right. All these days that have somehow bled into months of moving, of unease, they are drawn into this moment. They breathe a sigh of relief, settling. This is it, this is what all that drifting was about. Finding the spot where your roads would lead you to stand toe to toe, wrapped in a well-worn blanket and realize that home can grow from a warmth that accumulated over so many mornings. You push at Bucky’s hands, making the blanket part, tugging the ends from his grip to sling your arms around his neck, bringing him into it.

The kisses don’t happen until later. First, there’s the quiet, the seconds and minutes wrapped in the blanket. Then, there is breakfast and coffee strong enough to make a spoon stand up straight and slightly overscrambled eggs and Bucky’s voice drifting from the bathroom with hums breaking up the lyrics. You kiss him like you want to taste him, commit him to memory, pulling him down by his neck and drawing in a sharp breath when drops of water fall down the neckline of your t-shirt. He kisses like he’s finally at rest, safe even when his attention is diverted.

>>Coordinates? Bit banged up, wings took a hit, out of your hair before tomorrow

>>image.jpeg

>>Sorry, find another safehouse, this one’s occupied

>>TMI WAY TMI DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD

>>It was just a selfie!

>>IN BED

>>Get ur head out of the gutter /JBB

>>I hate you guys

You smile at the final message, setting down the phone and curling up against Bucky with a sigh. The sheets are a mess by your feet, Bucky’s body heat enough to keep you both warm.

“Occuped, huh?” he smiles, tracing your lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

You nod, pressing a kiss to the finger.

“Welcome home.”

[plounce]

god ik its a wm au but I would Love to hear more about beauyasha in this au.. also like what has yasha been up to on earth? how does she interact with beau and caleb before molly arrives? 💜🕊

>:)))! i can absolutely do so!!

so in the first two or so seasons before all the heaven/apocalypse stuff, beau and caleb met yasha in an episode. she never SAID she was a valkyrie but that’s what they assumed she was, since she had a lot of viking stuff on her and the accent and she sort of implied that. it’s what made sense at the time, especially because they had no signs that angels are a real thing.

then molly happens, and then when yasha shows back up again they recognize each other and WHAT! YASHA’S AN ANGEL ACTUALLY?? crazy.

basically what happened is that at around 200 bce or so, yasha fell in love. i’m gonna say that zuala was another angel in her garrison, and angels aren’t supposed to fall in love. they’re supposed to be conforming divine warriors who don’t have all the flaws (or strengths, or texture, or spark) that humans do.

zuala was painted as the main culprit in this transgression. rather than making her Fall (les mis voice) as lucifer fell (because by that point they didn’t want to add any more True demons to hell’s side) for punishment, they decide to just obliterate her a la the hellfire in the last scene of the good omens tv show. it isn’t pretty. yasha is made to watch. she screams, and it makes the sun flare.

the rest of the angels are going to have their memories wiped of her - including yasha - but she learns of this in time and breaks through the floor of heaven and plummets to earth. molly helps her escape, but manages to avoid getting caught doing so.

molly was in the same garrison as them, and his memory of zuala was wiped with the rest of them. he remembers yasha, remembers being fond of her, remembers that she left heaven voluntarily and that he helped her, but there’s so many blank spots. they have him move garrisons to the tomb-takers after that, who are very elite and militant, and he becomes a demon-killing expert. it’s meant to drown out all that. and it kind of works; molly remembers more of yasha when he sees her again on earth.

yasha falls and falls and her angel blade slips from her hand as she dematerializes. it plummets and falls deep into some wilderness. a glint streaking down from the shooting star in the sky that night.

what happens next is the thing that happened with anna - yasha has no vessel lined up and she wasn’t given permission to leave, and is swiftly getting her grace cut off by heaven, and her being is transformed into a human baby. she is born, and grows up in a little scandinavian village a little bit strange. her parents tell her how there was a huge shooting star the night she was born, how they think it’s a good omen form the gods, and she has a sense that she’s different - special. she’s strong and naturally gifted with the club and the axe and especially the sword - anything they put in her hands.

when she’s old enough, she’s chosen to go on their clan’s raids. she excels at getting the resources her village needs from the southern peoples. she’s a terror, and everyone knows that she’s blessed from above.

then one year, she gets separated from the raiding party and is making her way through the forest trying to make it back to the coast so she can find their boat. and out of the corner of her eye she sees a strange glint, and something in her pulls her to go to it. it’s a strange sword embedded in the rock, and she puts her hand on it, and pulls –

and memories and power flood into her. memories of zuala, of creation, of molly, of heaven’s gleaming pathways, of zuala, of the first things that crawled on land, of zuala, of the face of god, of zuala, zuala, zuala. smiling, flying, fighting, touching, burning. she screams. her howl echoes through the woods.

her people have been waiting for her back at the boat, because they can’t leave their best warrior behind. when she strides out of the woods, she’s different. she walks different, and has this power radiating from her. she climbs on the boat, tells them to go. she’s almost glowing a little bit. they row away, and yasha spends the entire journey staring up at the sky, out at the horizon.

after that day she’s different. even quieter. everyone assumes she had a holy experience that day, and she doesn’t disagree, because, well. after that day she’s keenly aware of the norse gods’ presences, and doesn’t age. when she realizes that everyone is moving forward towards death without her (humans seem so small now - she loves her human parents, she does, but remembering what the sun looked like in its infancy changes a viking), she leaves, and goes to asgard, and pledges herself to the ranks of valkyries. she’s not nearly as strong as she once was, but she’s strong enough to fit in with her new people, so she finds herself a place there among the aesir.

(side note im keeping my distance from how this world interacts with non-abrahamic religions - thats SO not my business - just know theyve got their own power and their own places that aren’t like. Beneath that of abrahamic god. because iirc spn was terrible about that) (also i say abrahamic bc iirc islam has a lot of angels and demonology in its culture but thats all im gonna say bc again: i am not a theology major, and this au is much more about the surface fun of it all rather than making any statements or assertions about ACTUAL religions (past or present) obviously) (also i’m never gonna mention jesus or the antichrist or whatever)

the angel blade is tied to her grace. her grace still exists up in heaven, locked away in the archives, so the blade still has its source. it also contains her love for zuala and molly and - and all that she loved before she was torn apart - and that fuels it, connects it to her. gives her access to its power. she’s mostly just sort of supernaturally stronger and can take more of a beating than a normal human, and on certain days/times of year she can fly short distances. days that were holy to her. she carves norse runes on her blade, because it’s hers now. she can’t age or die of old age, but she still does have human needs - food, water, sleep. she’s tough, but if she’s unlucky then she can be killed. luckily, she’s very good at fighting.

her wings… they’re not like they once were. being with the valkyries makes humans see them like other valkyries’, but the aesir can see them for what they are - decayed, fragile, skeletal things, with what remaining feathers there are barely hanging on. like her feathers in cr proper.

after ragnarok, when the surviving aesir meet in the fields of asgard, yasha thanks them for their hospitality, and returns to midgard. she wanders for a while, mostly by herself. she helps when she sees people who need her help, but mostly she just keeps herself alive and moving. quiet, contemplative. loving god’s creation even though heaven hurt her deeply. she spends years not speaking to anyone. what happened to the aesir was traumatizing to her, and she’s secure enough that she doesn’t need what they gave her when she was “younger.”

at some point she makes her way to north america. she wanders, builds cabins, and when she stumbles upon the opportunity she watches over what she once watched over. she’s aware of Hunters but is uninterested in them - they’re not hunting for food and while they help widows and the grieving that’s not their Business. not her business.

flash forward to early season 2. we know beau and caleb by this point and the basic premise of the show and the world. on a hunt in montana beau and caleb take shelter in a cabin during a snowstorm, and in the middle of the night the door opens. beau is taking watch and shoves a gun up in the intruder’s face - but it’s just yasha, holding a deer carcass and looking distinctly unimpressed. “you’re in my house.”

beau stutters an apology, caught entirely off guard by the 6′5″ mountain of a woman, and yasha shoulders past her to the table to stoke the fire and clean her kill. it’s her dinner for next month, yasha gruffly explains when beau asks what she’s doing. don’t like supermarkets.

caleb wakes up to beau helping yasha cut away the entrails. he is very frightened and confused, but when beau gives the all-clear he calms down a little. not entirely, because he knows this woman is beau’s type, and they’re still on a hunt.

they explain what they’re up to to yasha, who nods. says she’s noticed things have been strange. and beau helped her, so. she’ll help them. she’s also bored, and has a good feeling about these two.

so she helps out with the hunt, and throughout the episode beau clumsily flirts with her and yasha never turns her down but also never Flirts back. there’s a tension that’s mostly powered by beau but isn’t shut down by yasha (yasha thinks beau’s sweet and attractive, and she’s taken some human lovers over the last two millennia, but is still devoted to the memory of zuala. the audience doesn’t know that thought). she and caleb connect on a We Are Both Quiet Introverts level, like they do in actual cr (reminiscent of the shaving scene after bowlgate).

it isn’t until the end that caleb and beau think she’s anything but a mountain lady. then she pulls out a HUGE GLOWING SWORD carved with RUNES and THERE’S SOMETHING BEHIND HER THAT LOOKS LIKE WINGS? and then she nods, says goodbye, and walks away into the woods before caleb and beau can pepper her with questions about what the fuck just happened.

they run after her, but can’t find her or the cabin again. in the car ride back to civilization, caleb theorizes that she might be a valkyrie, and beau’s like yeah that sounds appropriately sexy.

yasha is a fan favorite. she had a whole focus episode and she was so mysterious and cool! the audience clamors for her to be brought back, and are sad when she doesn’t show up for the rest of season 2. beau and caleb mention her a couple times, so it’s made plain that she isn’t TOTALLY a one-off, but… hm!

beaujester shippers already existed by this point (jester was in season 1 and again in season 2), and beauyasha gains some popularity. beau having attractions to both of them is present in the show, but she isn’t dating either of them. there’s significance to both of them - they’re both people beau thinks of when she thinks of having Somebody.

a lot of fic about yasha is written between seasons 2 and 4, theorizing about her life as a valkyrie and what her and beau meeting up would be like… which is all then jossed when angels happen in season 4.

caleb gets taken to hell at the end of season 3 because of ikithon and for beau. during his last couple days on earth, he begs beau to find jester. or hell, yasha. don’t be alone, please. live and be happy. go get - go get powerlifted by one or both of them. i heard you sleeptalk enough about that. and beau tells him to shut up, don’t talk like that, i’ll - i’ll find a way to bring you back. and then you can see me get gay married or whatever it is you want me to do. because i’m gonna get you out of there. and caleb smiles, and his eyes say we both know you won’t.

there’s a whole genre of fic about jester or yasha (or both) comforting beau and settling into hunting/domesticity with her or helping her rescue caleb after caleb gets dragged away btw. idk why im making up fake fic about this au but you know what. i deserve this.

yasha is sort of put out of mind in the heaven excitement of season 4 and the arrival of molly as a third companion, turning their duo into a trio half the time. the apocalypse stuff isn’t quite happening yet btw (this is where i start diverging from the seasonal structure of spn), it’s just angels being real and caleb and beau being mysteriously important to them.

there is one point where during the beginning of an episode about halfway through the season where they’re regaling molly with a story of one of their hunts - beau is trying to embarrass caleb with a time he got enthralled by a siren, and caleb bats back with well, at least i didn’t let a giant woman with a dead deer push my gun aside so she could skin the thing with no enchantments on me at all. and beau’s like AW CMON DUDE DONT BRING YASH INTO THIS.

then there’s a shot where their bickering dialogue continues but the camera is focused on molly, who tilts his head a little, considering, then takes a sip of his orange juice (he hates coffee - too bitter! if he’s going to consume something to keep up the idea that he’s human, it’ll be something that tastes good!). then it cuts to the car.

it’s intentionally ambiguous if that’s about caleb getting seduced by a siren, beau being embarrassed, or whatever - it’s just an odd little moment. which is significant when they’re up north again, four episodes later, in a little restaurant off the highway, and they’ve just finished their meal and talk about the season plotline is happening when the door SLAMS open, and booted feet stomp across the dirty tile, strong legs in worn jeans, a huge backpack - beau’s eyes widen - and there’s yasha, striding directly to their table with a look of utmost focus and determination.

beau goes to stand, caleb’s brow furrows - yasha, what are you doing here - what’s going on - when, before they can act, molly stands up, causing the table to rock and their cups to slosh over. yashael! he exclaims, his face split in incredulous delight. you’re alive! you survived! you’re okay - it’s been millennia! what are you doing here?! oh, i don’t care, get over here. and he goes to her, and she hugs him, and beau and caleb are standing there, slack-jawed, as stony stoic yasha cracks a wide smile and hugs molly and lifts him off the ground.

did… did mollymauk just say ‘yashael?’ caleb says, stunned. molly is cradling yasha’s face in his hands, and her cheeks are round with joy. beau’s imagination could never have given her this smile, and she’s jealous a little bit, but also in awe, but mostly also trying to process the two puzzle pieces that just locked themselves together that she thought were totally separate from each other.

(relevant posts to their reunion: art, text, text)

from then on yasha is part of their group, at least for that season. there’s a lot of caleb and beau commiserating over their attraction to two LITERAL ANGELS - especially when the truth of yasha’s fall is revealed. beau is torn up inside about all of it - an ANGEL, for the first part, and her dead angel lover (how could beau ever compete with an ANGEL) and, oh christ, molly’s odd humoring of her crush on yasha is cast in a new light now.

and then jester comes back and… well, now beau’s torn between two hot girls who are both important in the grand scheme of things! yipes!

it takes a long time and there’s probably also some romantic drama in that triangle etc, but beauyaster is endgame. because i have a huge fucking brain.

[theincompetentgenius]

uh im hoping to request for the life generator? fandon: dangerous fellows about myself: 5''2, a swimmer, cellist and dog lover, likes coffee, enjoys books, extroverted introverd, likes travelling and ice cream😋 well i dont need much i'll be more than happy to see your writings and have a lovely day! thanks!

Thank you for your interest in the world of Dangerous Fellows! You will be reborn shortly. Loading simulation in 3….. 2…. 1….

B A C K G R O U N D

Prior to the zombie outbreak, you were an interesting type of high school student. You didn’t fit into the school stereotypes: an athlete who spent their time with their nose in a book. Whenever you won a competition or a tournament, you weren’t loud or brash about it. You would give a winning smile and divide the credit throughout your friends and family. Outside of school, you worked at a small cafe at the corner of the block. Not only did you want to make your own money, but you also wanted to experience the job life. While school could get hectic with your studies, sports, and job, you always managed to weave your way through.

On the day of the apocalypse, you had been coming home from another tournament with your mother and sister. Unfortunately, your mother had hit a body. She stopped the car and all of you jumped out to see the damage she had caused, but it would not compare to what happened next. A body with gray skin and no hair laid flat on the ground. Your mother went to touch it, but it awoke and bit her arm. She screamed for you and your sister to get away. You wanted to stay and help your mother, but your feet took you in the opposite direction. 

You did not look back

F R I E N D S  

Ethan

When the gang had found you, they were not interested in being your friend. Not only was Scarlett trying to throw you to the zombies, but the rest of the group also seemed uneasy. Lawrence had to consider the number of resources you would cost, Eugene couldn’t hold back from making a snarky comment, and Zion felt that you were dead weight. You tried to negotiate with them and prove your worth, but their uncertainties had not been cured. You told yourself not to take it personally. They were just worried about their survival. Yet a pang of loneliness surged through your chest. The only person rooting for you was Judy.

After another one of those dreaded meetings, you needed some space to breathe. It consisted of the usual: Scarlett screaming to kick you out, Eugene telling her to shut up, Zion telling Eugene to shut up, and Lawrence telling everyone to shut up. Suddenly, letting a zombie eat your brain didn’t sound too bad.

You scouted for a classroom that didn’t have upturned tables and wasn’t stained in blood. After some searching, you finally found some space for peace. You closed the door and slumped against the wall with your hands in your head. Your head became clouded with too many thoughts. You wanted to breathe but you were trapped by your own mind. Things couldn’t get any worse.

The door opened slightly. You jumped, expecting it to be a zombie. Instead, it was Ethan at the door. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t close the door. Having him as company wouldn’t hurt since he’s never been against you.

“It’s alright, you can come in.” You straightened up. “I was just sitting and thinking.”

He nodded and sat beside you. The silence between the two of you seemed awkward, but you come to find the beauty in it. Once again, you were lost in your own thoughts– thinking about the nostalgia of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The whole thing felt like a nightmare.

“I know the crew was tough on you.” You turned your head to the boy beside you. “But they aren’t bad people. Just worried about surviving.”

You look towards the cream walls of the classroom, hugging your knees. “I know, but it doesn’t make it less painful.”

He nods and looks at the wall as well.

“They’ll come around.”

Other friends: Lawrence, Judy

R O M A N C E

Harry

Ethan wasn’t wrong; the crew did warm up to you. Zion made less sarcastic remarks, Jay a little nicer, and Eugene even offered you a bag of chips. But it wouldn’t have been possible without Harry. He seemed to be the only friendly one (besides Judy) who tried to get to know you. In fact, he advocated on your behalf, which ultimately convinced the others to give you a chance. It was something you would forever be grateful for.

The two of you began to take night patrols together and sat around after meetings were over. He felt that the others were treating you unfairly. You had no marks, no bites, and you were pretty good at conserving resources. Besides, your plans during night patrols made them much easier and more efficient.

One night, you and Harry had finished patrol duty before the rest. With the extra time, you decided to sit with him on the rooftop. The two of you began to talk about your lives before the outbreak and how life was much easier back then. He had felt comfortable telling you about the day the zombie outbreak occurred and it nearly brought you to tears.

“Don’t cry. It’s my burden, not your’s.” A glass film of tears coated his eyes.

“When one of us suffers, we all suffer.” You gave a bitter laugh, wiping the tears from your face. After hearing his woes, your guard fell. Although it would only sadden the mood, you felt the need to confide in him. You told him your story and your frustrations since you had gotten here. Images of your mother being turned ran through your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to erase the image from your head and to hold the tears back, but your voice shook as you spoke. Droplets ran down your cheek.

“There’s nothing left for me.”

He embraced you in a warm hug. You held on to him tight; it was like clinging onto your sanity. He brushed your hair with his hand as you buried your head on his shoulder, nonstop tears flowing from your eyes.

“We’ve got each other and that’s all we need.”

You tilt your head and lock eyes with him. His silver hair was glowing in the moonlight and his purple eyes shone like amethysts. “How can you stay so positive during a time like this?”

“If I don’t, then I’ll fall apart.”

F I N A L    F A T E

Luckily, the group was able to escape from the school and made it to the safe zone. The only person who didn’t make it was Lawrence; he chose to stay behind to atone for his sins. While you had mixed feelings about his choice, you were sad to watch your friend throw his life away for the rest of you.

It didn’t take too long to reach the safe zone. Zion’s brute, Ethan’s athletics, and your quick thinking kept everyone from being mauled by the zombies. Upon entry, the guards inspected each of you for any possible marks. Unfortunately, you had a small cut on your finger– a papercut from the flyer. The guards were ready to send you back, but Harry managed to talk them into testing your blood. For a few days, you were isolated from the rest of the group as the doctors took samples of your blood to ensure you had not been bitten. Once you were cleared, you were able to enter.

The first person you looked for was your sister. You searched everywhere for her, but you couldn’t find her. Part of you had hoped maybe she was alive and hadn’t found the safe zone. But you knew better than that. After coming to terms with your mother’s death, you looked for Harry. It relieved you to see that he was reunited with his mother, yet you couldn’t help but feel jealous. You wished your mother was with you.

Harry rushed over to you and wrapped you in his arms. The two of you laughed and had a quick kiss. What had seemed impossible a few weeks ago had become your reality.

It wasn’t the best reality, but it was better than you had dreamed of.

[kelvintimeline]

endgame spoilers below

i’m gonna say what we have all said before but now we have definitive proof--everything wrong with the MCU is the fault of Tony Stark (and white men directing but this post is about tony). spoilers ahead for endgame.

in makin tony the heart of the MCU, everything has to shift around his motives and feelings. his characterization and build up is prioritizing his “growth” and happiness.

the reason why they can’t do time travel for most of endgame is because tony refuses to help because he’s HAPPY during the apocalypse. peter was dusted and he doesn’t care--everyone he actually cares about is still alive because tony deserves that.

tony only agrees to help if his happiness is preserved and isn’t that how the entire fucking mcu has worked so far? tony forces everyone to live under the accords because it makes him happy and feels like it’s making up for the innocents his murderbot killed. tony gets backstory with his family in CW and we don’t even get to see steve’s mother in his own fucking movie. tony gets to talk to pepper, his loved one, before IW goes down while everyone else has their loved ones snatched from them with no closure.

tony always gets what he wants.

natasha dies in this fucking movie, steve gets sent back in time FOREVER, and only tony gets a funeral, only tony gets screen time being mourned, only tony gets to ENJOY the apocalypse and then go out in glory while natasha splattered to death and steve is relegated to a happy ending that happens off screen and undoes literally all of his characterization.

tony gets a wife and child.

thor gets his entire people aside from a dozen or so murdered, becomes a “fat” joke, and then fucks off to join gotg because they stopped caring about his charactization. his gf stays behind as queen. the black panther crew isn’t even fucking THERE but all of the wakandans who died in the IW invasion? stay dead. but that’s “fine” and will never be addressed.

like i knew tony stark was a mistake but literally this entire movie hinges on tony getting what he wants. the way time travel works in this movie is ONLY to benefit tony. like steve is PERMANENTLY sent to the past in a way that leaves tony’s future happy while steve lets hydra happen, the winter soldier program happen, every bad thing happen... his entire characterization assassinated in one “happy” ending.

i’m so fuckin over it.

fuck the mcu, fuck tony stark, fuck the russos.

this was meant to be more insightful but im just mad.

[madpanda75]

“Happy Birthday Babies!” Part of Hostage Series

The reader FINALLY gives birth to the twins!

I have to say, I re-did this story so many times. I just couldn’t decide what to do with it (should I make it fluffy? Dramatic?) so I’m worried that it’s not my best work and for that I apologize. ❤️

It was a scorching hot summer day. The air conditioner and extra fans you had brought into the living room drowned out the sound of the morning news show playing in the background while you sat on the couch opening a baby gift. “Oh my God!!!” You shrieked. “Rafael! Look!!!”

You heard footsteps rushing down the stairs, your husband nearly tripping over his own feet as he ran into the living room. “What!? What is it?! Is it time?”

“No, it’s not that. Look at these cute baby suspenders my friend got for the twins!” You held up two pairs of matching pink and blue suspenders.

Rafael let out a sigh of relief, clutching his chest, “Cariño, you scared me. I thought you were in labor.”

“Sorry, babe. I just got excited. Aren’t they cute, though? Now the twins will be just like their Papi,” you cooed.

“Adorable,” he smiled and sat next to you on the couch. “Are you sure you’re going to be ok today?”

“Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine,” you rubbed your protruding belly. Although you had wanted to work up until your due date, you were exhausted, uncomfortable and it was becoming increasingly difficult to get around. At your doctor’s request, you had been put on modified bed rest for the past week.

“I’m just saying, I can work from home today if you need me.”

You narrowed your eyes at your husband. “Rafael, I don’t like people hovering over me. Get out while you can,” you teased, looking down at your stomach. “After these two come, you’ll be stuck at home for six weeks.”

He leaned down to kiss your belly twice before placing a kiss on your lips, “You know I never feel stuck with you. I can’t wait to be home with these little ones.”

“I know, sweetie.” You ran your fingers through this hair and straightened his tie when Mila walked into the room. You bit back a laugh when you saw your daughter. She had placed a pillow under her t-shirt and was cradling her faux baby bump.

“I’m on bed rest too!” She sighed, collapsing onto the couch next to you.

Rafael chuckled, “Ok, I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He kissed you and Mila before getting up to finish getting ready for work.

You walked into your bedroom as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Your day had been spent, folding baby clothes, spending some quality mommy-daughter time with Mila. Sitting on your bed, you felt a cramp radiate from your lower back. You had been experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions sporadically the past week, but today they were becoming more frequent. Your whole body tensed. You closed your eyes and let out a deep breath.

“Mommy, ok?” Mila asked, climbing onto your bed.

“I’m fine, baby.” You ran your fingers through her curls. “Do you want to watch a movie before dinner?”

“Yeah!” She jumped out of bed and grabbed a movie, choosing your wedding DVD. She had recently discovered it when you moved into your new apartment. The little girl loved watching her parents, seeing all of her family dance around at the reception, to her it looked like a real life fairytale. Mila snuggled up to your side as you started the movie. “Mommy, you look like a princess!” She said when you came onto the screen.

“Thank you, mi amor. Someday, that’s going to be you and Papi is going to walk you down the aisle,” you kissed the top of her head, watching the movie as Rafael appeared on the screen.

He had tears in his eyes and the biggest, brightest smile as he watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You smiled back, practically running into his arms when you came up to the altar. The four horsemen of the apocalypse could have galloped into that church but neither of you would have noticed, all you could focus on was each other.

Mila was sound asleep, laying on your leg, by the time you and Rafael had your first dance. You didn’t have the heart to move her. Your eyes became shiny with tears watching you and your husband sway on the dance floor. With all the chaos that life brought, the everyday mundane tasks, the exhaustion of being a parent, watching your wedding movie was a nice reminder of the love you and Rafael had for each other and the life you had created out of that love.

As if on cue, your husband came into the bedroom, a smile tugged at his lips when he saw what you were watching. “That was a great day,” he softly said.

“It really was,” you reached out for your him. He took your hand, placing a kiss on your palm and sat next to you.

Winding his arm around your shoulders, he kissed you deeply. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips.

“I love you too,” you pulled him closer, returning the kiss when you felt a sharp cramp again. You gasped and clutched your stomach.

Rafael knitted his brows in concern, “Y/N? Are you ok?”

Before you could even respond, you felt a pop followed by a trickle of water, a wet spot forming on the crotch of your leggings. “Raf, my water just broke.”

Ten minutes after you made your announcement, you were sitting in the passenger seat of the car. Rafael sped towards the hospital, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding yours as you breathed through your contractions.

“My mom is going to meet us at the hospital and pick up Mila,” he said, trying to keep calm.

You nodded your head, doubling over and groaning in pain when a particularly intense contraction hit.

“Mommy? Is it time for babies?” Mila asked from the backseat.

You looked back at your daughter, “Si, muñequita, the babies are coming. You’re going to be a big sister.”

A nurse brought over a wheelchair when you arrived at the hospital. “Wait right here, we’ll get a room ready for you,” she said.

“Ohhh ow ow! Oh God!” You winced and held your stomach.

“Mommy, I kiss your boo boo and make it all better,” Mila bent down to kiss your stomach. “It didn’t work,” she mumbled when she saw you were still in pain.

“Breathe, mi amor,” Rafael began to breathe deeply, encouraging you to follow his pattern. You mimicked his breathing even Mila joined in, the three of you inhaling and exhaling when his phone began to buzz. “That’s my mom,” he replied. “Come on, Mila. Let’s go see abuela.”

Your daughter vehemently shook her head and clutched your arm, “No! I’m scared! Wanna stay with you and Mommy.”

You breathed through another contraction and cupped your daughter’s face, trying not to show her how much pain you were in. “Sweetie, I need you to be Mommy’s brave girl and go to abuela. I’m going to see you later, ok?”

“Pinky Promise?” She looked up at you with big green eyes.

“Of course, amorcita.” You kissed her cheeks and locked your pinky with hers before Rafael took her to Lucia.

As you were waiting for Rafael to come back, another wheelchair was brought next to you. Your eyes widened in surprise when you recognized the woman. “Rita?! What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here? Handing out lollipops!” She clutched her swollen stomach in pain. “Oh God, it feels like I’m shitting out of my vagina, get this child out of me NOW!”

“Congratulations, counselor. Is it Buchanan’s? I didn’t know you two were still an item.”

“Well wonders never cease, detective. I hope this baby doesn’t have as big a head as he does or I’m in trouble,” she growled as a nurse wheeled her away.

Rafael came back and placed a hand on your shoulder, his eyes following the woman screaming in pain being led into the maternity ward. “Was that Rita?”

“Yep. A Buchanan/Calhoun baby, that kid is going to rule the world-”

“Or destroy it,” he added.

You gasped in pain, digging your nails into your husband’s arm, “This is a bad one.” Finally a nurse led you down the hall to your room. Rafael walked beside you, squeezing your hand, unable to stop the excitement he felt at meeting the twins.

By the time you were taken to the room and had your vitals checked, your labor had progressed significantly. You were hooked up to a fetal monitor so the doctor could watch the twins’ heartbeats and follow your contractions.

Rafael was an incredible coach. He was patient and gentle, rubbing your back in soothing circles, wiping the sweat off your brow, all while telling you how amazing you were. When Mila was born he didn’t get the chance to support you through your labor and he was determined to make up for it.

You let out a long low groan, squeezing your husband’s hand so tight, his fingers were practically purple. “Fuck, I forgot how much this hurts!”

The contractions were becoming more intense and closer together. “Breathe, Y/N,” Rafael pushed your hair back, inhaling and exhaling with you. “Are you sure you don’t want an epidural?”

You shook your head, “No, I went without meds for Mila. I can do it again. I just wish these two would hurry up.” You placed your hands on your stomach, silently willing your body to give birth already. “Babe, can you get me more ice chips. I want to take advantage before my next contraction hits.”

“Of course, cariño.” He brought you ice chips just when you were hit with a particular bad contraction. You sobbed in pain, clutching onto him as your only source of comfort. “You’re doing great. I’m right here,” he rested his forehead against yours, holding you close.

“How are we feeling?” The doctor asked when she entered the room, entirely too perky for you at that moment.

“In excruciating pain,” you gritted your teeth, whining through a contraction.

She checked the fetal monitor before turning to you, her expression serious, “Mr. and Mrs. Barba, I’m afraid that the monitor is showing some signs of fetal distress.

“Fetal distress. What does that mean?” Rafael asked.

“It means Baby B’s heart rate is dropping. Most likely due to pressure on the umbilical cord. We’re going to give you oxygen and have you lay on your left side, to take the pressure off your major blood vessels. If the heart rate doesn’t pick up, I advise that we do a c-section.” She saw the frightened look on your face and gave you a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Barba. We’re going to take good care of you and your babies.”

A nurse helped to position your body and provided you an oxygen mask. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you breathed deeply into the mask, groaning with every intense contraction. “Raf, I’m scared. I need you.”

Rafael held your hand and cradled your stomach with the other. “Everything will be fine. I’ll be by your side the whole time, I promise,” he whispered.

The baby’s heart rate didn’t come back up and you were quickly being wheeled away into surgery. A nurse stopped Rafael when you reached the operating room, handing him scrubs to change into. You panicked when you lost his grip and reached out for him, “Rafael!?”

“I’ll be right there, honey,” he called out after you. He changed as quickly as possible while the doctor was preparing you for surgery.

You laid on the table, watching as they put up the divider sheet, tears pooling in your eyes. Rafael came into the room and sat by your side. His face half covered by a surgical mask. If it wasn’t for his green eyes, you wouldn’t have recognized him.

“Rafi,” you whimpered, your body shaking from a combination of adrenaline and the spinal anesthesia.  

“Shhhh, it’s ok. Rory and Ben are going to be here real soon.” He wiped the tears from your eyes as you listened to the doctor tell you what she was going to do. “I wonder who the twins will look like.” He said, trying to take your mind off the fact that your stomach was being sliced open.

You closed your eyes, trying to envision your children, “I bet they’ll have your eyes. Those Barba genes are strong plus you have the most beautiful eyes. They were the first thing I noticed about you.”

“Just as long as they have your smile. It lights up a room,” he gently stroked your cheek.

You opened your eyes and smiled as you met your husband’s gaze. Letting out a shaky breath, you felt pressure and a firm tug followed by a baby’s cry. “Here’s your baby boy,” the doctor held up a tiny pink squirming baby, crying at the top of his lungs.

The corners of Rafael’s eyes crinkled from above his mask as he smiled, his eyes glossy with tears, he rested his forehead against your temple while you both listened to the cries of your child. “We have a son,” he softly said.

A nurse smiled brightly and placed the infant in your husband’s arms. He leaned closer to you, holding the baby up to your face, his tiny fist brushing up against your cheek. “Benjamin, my beautiful baby boy.” You whispered, tears streaming down your face.

“He’s perfect,” Rafael said, unable to stop his own tears from flowing.

Seconds later, you choked out a sob, when you heard the cries of your second child, a little baby girl. The baby wailed, her eyes closed, fists shaking, unhappy to be ripped from her warm cocoon.

“Shhhh, it’s ok my darling, Mommy’s here,” you cooed as the nurse placed the baby girl in your husband’s arms. “Aurora, my sweet little angel. They’re so perfect.”

“They’re beautiful,” Rafael smiled down at the babies balanced in his arms. His heart swelled at the sound of his children’s cries, until it shattered into a million pieces. He felt as if he was being reborn, experiencing a love that compared to nothing else on this earth. It was the same love he encountered when he first held Mila. All the accolades he had achieved in his life, paled in comparison to that precious perfect moment when he saw his children come into this world.

Two nurses took the babies so they could be weighed and measured. Rafael refused to leave until you were stitched up. “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you, mi amor,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You leaned into his touch, happy and relieved to have brought two healthy babies into this world with the love of your life by your side.

While Rafael went to get Mila, you were wheeled into recovery. Aurora and Benjamin laid on your chest, fast asleep, holding onto each other’s hand. Aurora yawned in her sleep, snuggling closer to her brother. Your heart just about burst. How could a yawn be so cute?

After having Mila, you didn’t think it was possible to love more, to love harder. You didn’t think your heart had any more room. Oh how wrong you were. A wave of absolute euphoria washed over you, looking down at the two little lives that you had grown and nourished with your body for the past nine months. An intense love poured out of you, creating an invisible line that connected your heart to those of your children, forming a fierce and unbreakable bond.

You gently kissed the tops of their heads and inhaled their sweet scent, admiring their tiny features. Both babies had heads full of dark hair, perfect pink pouts, and chubby cherub cheeks. “Look at all that hair, no wonder you guys gave me so much heartburn,” you mused.

Rafael poked his head through the door, “Honey, I brought someone who wants to see you.” He led Mila into the room. She was wearing her “Big Sister” t-shirt, carrying two little teddy bears for the twins.

“Mommy!!!” She shouted and ran towards you.

Rafael picked her up and placed her on the bed. “Be gentle, muñequita.”

“Hi my sweet girl! I missed you!” You exclaimed, handing one of the babies over to Rafael so you could hug your daughter with your free arm. She looked so big compared to the twins. You couldn’t believe how fast your little girl was growing. Time truly did fly by

“I miss you too!” She leaned forward to gaze at the tiny bundle in your arms, her eyes widening, a big smile firmly planted on her face. “Hi baby!”

“Mila, this is your baby brother, Benjamin.” You held the infant closer for her to see as Rafael sat on the other side of the bed with your little baby girl. “And Papi is holding your baby sister, Aurora.”

Mila looked between the two babies, “They so tiny. Like my dolls.” She exclaimed. “Can I hold them? Peez!”

“Ok, sweetie, but be careful,” you put a pillow on Mila’s lap before gently placing Benjamin in her arms, keeping your hands under hers to help support the baby. “Put your hand under his neck, mija.”

“You cute baby,” Mila said. “I got you a teddy bear.” The little boy stared up at his big sister, opening and closing his mouth several times before scrunching his face up, letting out a little sneeze. “Bless you!” She giggled, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Watching your oldest child hold her sibling, you couldn’t help the tears forming in your eyes. You locked eyes with your husband to see that he was crying too. “I love you,” he silently mouthed.

“I love you too,” you mouthed back.

Your hospital room was packed with visitors. The squad, your parents, Carmen, and Lucia all came to see the new Barba babies, even Mrs. Rojas stopped by. The twins were passed from person to person, everyone “oohing” and “awwing” over the bundles of joy.

“Hiya gorgeous,” Sonny cooed, cradling Aurora in his arms. “You look just like your mommy.”

“Ok, Carisi, it’s my turn. Quit hogging the baby,” Olivia teased as he handed the infant over to her. “Hi Rory, you’re so precious,” she smiled and softly stroked her cheek. The tiny baby stretched her limbs, wiggling in the woman’s arms. “Y/N, she really does look like you.”

“And Ben looks just like his Papi,”  Lucia said as the little boy wrapped his hand around his abuela’s finger. “Dios Mio! Que lindo! I feel like I’ve gone back in time holding this handsome boy!” She placed Benjamin upright on her chest, gently bouncing him up and down.

You could’ve sworn you saw Fin wipe away a stray tear when you asked him to be the babies’ godfather. While Amanda and Carmen were overjoyed when you asked if they would be godmothers to the twins.

Amid the excitement, a nurse came in to check on you and the babies. “Five more minutes and then visiting hours are over,” she announced.

“Would you mind taking a picture of us?” You asked, handing her your phone.

“Ok, and then everyone needs to leave. Mommy, Daddy, and babies need their rest.”

Everyone gathered around for the photo. You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. Your son lay in your arms while Rafael held your daughter with Mila sitting between you both. The love you felt surrounded by your family and friends was overwhelming. For years to come, the picture taken from that day would hang in your house, a moment frozen in time that you would remember for the rest of your life.

You were exhausted by the end of the day. Laying in bed with Rafael, you rested your head on your husband’s shoulder while he was finishing up a crossword puzzle from The New York Times. He was spending the night at the hospital with you and the twins.

“Hole,” you said, glancing down at his puzzle.

He peered at you from above his reading glasses, “Excuse me?”

“32 across, evidence left by a moth. The answer is “hole.”

“I would have gotten that,” he mumbled, nudging your shoulder.

“Not with the answer you put for 25 down,” you quipped.

He playfully tapped you on the head with the newspaper before tossing it aside along with his glasses. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let out a long breath. Although not nearly as tired as you were, it had been a long day for the ADA.

“By the way...you looked sexy in those scrubs they made you wear earlier,” you smirked. “If I hadn’t just given birth, I would ask you to play doctor with me.”

Rafael chuckled, “I beg your pardon, but are you hitting on me?”

“Damn right, I am.” You kissed his jawline, his scruff tickling your lips.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “May I remind you that I’m a happily married man with three kids and a smoking hot wife.”

“She won’t mind, she told me so herself,” you teased.

He laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you nuzzled against his chest. “What a day,” he softly said.

“I know...one of the best days of my life,” you yawned, your eyelids feeling heavy.

Rafael looked over at the twins sleeping soundly in their bassinets next to the bed. “I can’t believe they’re actually here, that we made these two perfect little humans.”

You softly snored in response, already fast asleep. He smiled at you, stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead. “You gave me the most beautiful babies, mi amor,” he whispered before gently getting out of your bed. He slept on a cot next to you, never leaving your side, just like he had promised.

@obfuscateyummy @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sweetsummertime99 @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @burningsorr0ws @katmstanton @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @southern-magnolia @riodallas @eclecticminded @delia26 @glimmerglittergirl @sweetcannolicarisi @babypink224221 @amirightcounsellor

[benhaardy]

king of my heart || b.h.

(i apologize i do not know where this gif is from i found it on weheartit but im not sure thats who made it but here is the post. if you are the owner please let me know so i can credit or take it off at your request. thanks!)

Summary: Ben takes you to the Bohemian Rhapsody premiere and you reminisce of his accomplishments and your years-long friendship.

Request: Can you do a fluffy first kiss imagine with Ben? Thanks!

A/N: so uhhh the request was literally the simplest thing EVER but my extra ass had to put some Extra Sass™ upon this lol. idk why i wanted to go big for such a simple prompt but its ben and its his birthday today so HE DESERVES IT!

gotta add in that S H E E R D R E S S S H I R T because i’m still not over it, thank u, next.

the outfit i had in mind: dress (the one in the middle) shoes necklace earrings, though obviously you can imagine your own outfit.

song that the title/some of the fic is based off: king of my heart by taylor swift

obviously, i am a huge fan of the longtime best friends to lovers cliche and idk if anyone else thinks this but i write my characters as super affectionate in the first place so i hope it isn’t weird to anyone to have like the really touchy-feely best friends or friendships in my stories ig? idk, just a thought cause i literally just noticed how affectionate my characters are ANYWAYS here's wonderwall

thank you for sending a request in! hope you enjoy it!

also happy birthday to our king i hope he has a beautiful day

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: a few frick words (2). fem!reader. mention of nudity. fluffy!! not proofread, but beta’d

“Ready, Y/N?” Ben called from downstairs

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You put the final touches of your outfit on. Perfume on your wrists, Tiffany necklace on, you went down the stairs carrying your nude Louboutins and adjusting your earrings. It wasn’t really your style to do any of this, really, but your best friend Ben had wanted to take you to the Bohemian Rhapsody premiere. Go big or go home, you figured. At his asking, you didn’t see or know what he was going to wear so you played it safe with a black dress.

You went down the stairs and got to the bottom floor. Ben was standing in the middle of the living room, back turned to you. He was looking down at the cat weaving in between his legs. As far as you could see, he was wearing an all black suit. “Ben?” you said. He whipped around to see you as you were putting on your shoes.

“Oh, wow, Y/N,” he beamed. Ben put his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide with surprise. “You look so good!” You opened your arms to embrace him, to which he stepped into, his arms around your waist.

After a few seconds, you both pulled away but his arms still stayed in their place and your hands lingered on his biceps. “I could say the same about you, Benny! Everything looks great!”  He let you go fully. You looked up and down at his outfit. Sheer black dress shirt, black blazer and trousers, everything was tailored perfectly to his body. You grinned. He cleaned up very well, but it wasn’t like he didn’t dress nice in the first place.

“Ready to go?” he asked. “Car’s waiting outside.”

“Ready.”

--

You watched from the side of the carpet as the main cast were getting photographed together. That was your best friend! Standing next to Roger fucking Taylor and Brian fucking May. Everything still felt surreal, though he had been in the public spotlight for the past few years, this felt different. Your senses just felt heightened. The flashing lights, the hues of purple and pink and gold all around, surrounded by people you either knew well or were complete strangers to you. Your eyesight was crisp, noticing everything you could, taking it all in. You did musical theatre, you hadn’t really dealt with something as big as this, even with Apocalypse.

And here your best friend was, in the middle of all of this. Your mind played back all the memories of you two in drama school with his all-nighters, monologue after monologue, script after script. You couldn’t be more proud of your closest friend, all of his hard work going to this. You could remember Ben’s shifty eyes backstage the very first show of Judas Kiss and the blush on his cheeks after the show when he remembered that you had watched him perform and there was that one scene of full frontal; he figured it was worth the embarrassment, it’s not as if you hadn’t seen worse.

Back to Eastenders and its countless shirtless and kissing scenes. You thought back to the countless nights that you spent up with him when he was weighing leaving the show or becoming Archangel. At your own urging, Ben left Eastenders, ready for the next chapter, ready for the next big thing. One of the best memories of your life was traveling to the United States with him for Comic-Con and driving up and down the west coast a week before he had to attend it. He took you to Disneyland and Universal Studios after everything with the convention was said and done.

Now, Bohemian Rhapsody! You laughed at the memories of Ben scrambling to find a good drum teacher close by and how he turned up in the middle of the night to your flat to tell you he got the part. You couldn’t ever forget his embrace in the dark of your living room, his face buried in your shoulder and his arms, tight and strong around your waist. Your happy tears wiped away by Ben’s hand as you drew apart. Though you both were excited, it was still the middle of the night, so you both just slept in your bed once more with the cats.

Ben would always invite you over to watch him play and give your input. You had to admit, he had gotten pretty good over all the lessons. Though you discouraged his lying about playing the drums and seeing the consequences in his clamber to learn as much as possible, it paid off in the best way possible. They started the process of making the movie. Though you couldn’t really be by his side throughout filming, you were basically there, his perpetual FaceTimes keeping you in the loop with everyone. You even “met” the guys and Lucy, who you hit off with very well. Ben made sure you were always by his side and he was always by yours.

So when you saw him here, at his biggest premiere surrounded by even more amazing actors and actresses, you couldn’t help but shed a tear. This role of Roger had basically brought him into the light.

You watched them take pictures until Ben beckoned you over, the group disbanding and walking over to their families and significant others to pose for their own photos. You came over and he put his arm around your waist, hugging you close. Your hand was on his back and you both posed for pictures, the flash basically blinding you, the sounds of the shutters all around. “Smile,” Ben whispered into your ear.

--

Everyone was at the rooftop restaurant that you were all going to eat at after the premiere. You were sitting in between Roger and Ben, having been introduced to all of the people around the table. Never in a million years, you thought, never in a million years did you think you’d be here, conversing with the real Roger Taylor or getting along with his daughters, or telling Lucy Boynton and Anita Dobson where you got your necklace and earrings.

“If you’ll excuse us, Y/N and I are going to go out to the balcony,”

You scooped another spoon of food in your mouth before saying, “Oh, okay we are? Okay.” You gave a polite smile to Roger, who you were talking to before Ben got your attention. Standing up, you followed Ben out of the tall, ornate door, out to the terrace where you could see all of London. The view was breathtaking.

“What is this all about?” you inquired as you came over to Ben standing with his hand on the glass, observing the scenery in front of him, the various coloured lights illuminating London.

“How do you feel about all this, Y/N? The whole shazam,” he questioned, wanting to know your true feelings about everything.

You shook your head, “What can I say?” You looked out along with him. “If you had told me in the first year of uni when we met that we would be here right now. Eating dinner with two freaking members of Queen and their families and being around some of the best actors and musicians in the world!” You said, your voice breathy. It was crazy what your best friend had been able to accomplish. “I would’ve slapped you and called you mental. This is all so... wow.”

“I couldn’t have made it here without you, Y/N. I’d be a complete and utter trainwreck. I wouldn’t even, like, survive without you, you know?”

“Ben,” you shook your head vigourously, “Don’t…don’t. This is your thing. This is your work. This is your doing. I was just there along for the ride and you were there with me,” you reasoned. “It’s just...just that simple.”

He shook his head but smiled. “None of this is that simple.” Ben turned to face you, still looking down. You moved to look at him yourself. “You mean everything to me, really. It’s not just the support. It’s the little things. It’s how you never fail to put your jumper sleeves over your hands and bury ‘em in your face. It’s how you look at me when you’re adjusting my suit and doing that little,” he paused and did little sweeping movements in the air, “that little sweepy thing on my lapels and you look back up at me and smile. The way you smile, the way you look at me, love, it just- it drives me crazy in the best way. You’re always there for me, yes, but that is not the only reason that I love you.” Ben took hold of your hand and held it close to his heart, his hand encapsulating yours entirely. “I want you, Y/N.”

You leaned forward and an abundance of holy shit holy shit did I just do that did I really just do that did he reeeallly just say those amazing things about me?’s rang through your head, echoing and echoing. You kissed him. His plump lips were upon yours finally. At first, Ben was stiff, taken by surprise at your sudden action but he softened quickly with the feeling of you on him. Your hand stayed on his chest while his moved down to your hips. As the kiss deepened, you laced your hands around his neck.

He pulled away. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted that, love,” he said, breathless, his lips swollen and pink.

“Me too, Ben.” You smiled and cupped his cheek in your hand, to which he kissed your palm and held your wrist lightly. He looked down at his shoes, blushing.

“We should—“ he started, his thumb pointing back to the inside. “We shoul—“

You exhaled. “Y-Yeah, yeah we should, we should.” Ben grabbed your hand and led you inside. He pulled your chair out for you and you sat in it. You brushed imaginary dirt off your dress, trying to act casual.

“Looks like you two had fun out there!” exclaimed Roger, a bellowing laugh coming from him.

[agirlinhell]

just a casual reminder that:

THIS BLOG AND ITS MUSE CONTAIN PRETTY MUCH ALMOST EVERY MAJOR TRIGGER. THIS BLOG IN ITS ENTIRETY IS EXTREMELY TRIGGERING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

If you proceed to read this blog’s content after the multiple content warnings that I present in the blog’s rules page, you are responsible for whatever happens. I informed you of what is present. Do not try to claim I did not give you an adequate warning.

I write a lot of “horrible” shit. I literally write a sweet and innocent girl turned assassin and killer in her own right in the apocalypse for a muse - there’s very little I have an issue with writing in detail. This blog is riddled with mature content. With that said, I won’t be roleplaying with anyone under the age of sixteen. This should be obvious but just because I write disturbing content DOES NOT MEAN I SUPPORT IT.

On the topic of Clementine, she is a very morally grey character - she is neither good nor evil. She will not always be kind and sweet to your muse. She won’t always do the morally “right” thing. She will not hesitate to resort to murder, manipulation, blackmail and torture if it means getting what she wants.

Please don’t have your muse presume to know what Clementine is thinking, unless if your muse is some kind of telepath. Just because you know what going on OOCly, it doesn’t mean your character knows. Characters who seem to know more than they would is irritating and really annoying. Clementine is very charismatic, persuasive and secretive and as such, it is difficult to know exactly what she’s planning or thinking.

My Clementine has been - and still is - very lonely, and did not have friends or family for most of her life, as everyone else had either betrayed her or died, and even with her friends and accomplices, most of her friendships were merely for survival purposes. It’s fairly easy to forget that the timeline of Episodes 3 through 5 of Season One lasts only about four days. In the space of less than a week, Clementine has lost everyone she’s ever loved. She finds her parents infected, Lee is either dead or infected, and every single other person Clementine has come to rely on and know in the past three months — everyone, from Duck to Lily to Kenny to Ben and everyone in between — has died systematically over the course of a few days. Omid and Christa are the only ones who survived, but she had only met them during that four day timespan. It gets even worse as the seasons progress and this is no understatement in the slightest.

Clementine is age eighteen-nineteen and over in her default verse, as it is set post-The Final Season. With that said, most asks will be answered when Clementine is an adult, unless if the ask specifies for a specific verse.

For the love of all that is good and holy, DO NOT STEAL MY HEADCANONS FOR CLEMENTINE.

There are people I have a lot of threads with. It's inevitable that sometimes it'll appear as if I only reply to one person or the same 2-3 people simply because they're the only ones I have a lot of replies from. If you can't handle it looking like I've only responded to so called "faves" all day, when I owe you less than 5 things, don't follow me.

While Clementine in the majority of her verses is a human, there will be alternate universes where she is a vampire, werewolf, crossroad demon, shapeshifter/druid, deity, etc. and because of this, she will be very powerful and in some scenarios, even overpowered in the case of her deity verse. However, I do not powerplay/godmod/whatever else. It’s hard for some people to grasp, but for example, in my vampire or deity verses, Clementine does not give a shit about yours enough to waste her energy on them. For example: I have a verse where Clem is a goddess, and yes, she could know everything about your muse, but trust me -- she’s not going to act like it or even acknowledge what she could know. She doesn’t care to go through your muse's brain to figure out what they’re thinking. The only real metagaming you’ll see is deity!Clementine knowing your muse’s name when they haven’t given it out. I will IM the fuck out of you before I do some crazy shit with her anyway. I only ask you don’t act as if she is not a powerful goddess in said verse - because she is and she will destroy a muse that pisses her off.

Have a rules page and an about page for your character. I don’t care if your character is canon. I will not follow you if I can’t find an about section. Linking to the wikipedia/whatever page of your canon character does not count.

I don’t follow people who post ooc a lot. Blog updates, headcanons, activity notices, etc are not ooc per say but an excessive amount of them can be.

I have a really big issue with people who post super negative stuff all the time. I’d rather not have to deal with your problems on top of my own, thanks.

I absolutely will not follow you if I have to put in a ton of effort just to make it so I can actually read your information. I don't give a fuck about the "aesthetic" - just give me something to work with.

I do not follow every single blog one person has. It feels like you’re taking up a ton of my dash/followers, and it drives me insane.

I don’t follow people who are only here for shipping. If you're here just because you want to ship with Clementine, you came to the wrong place. My Clementine is not just a shipping facet.

If we do not interact within three months of becoming mutuals, unless if there’s a hiatus on your part, I will softblock/unfollow you. Interaction means a starter (or ask) and a reply. If I write you a starter and you never respond, it is not interacting.

The more we talk ooc, the easier it is for me to reply. It makes me more comfortable writing with you, and I often chat about our muses, making it a lot easier to come up with ideas and giving me a lot of muse and inspiration for our threads.

Memes can be awkward and harder for me to answer if we’ve never interacted before. I understand that a lot of people prefer memes as a means of getting things started, but I would really rather plot if you’re trying to get a thread of any substance going. I don’t mind starting with a meme, but I can almost guarantee you it’s not going to go very far if it’s our first thread.

Don’t pester me for replies. Feel free to remind me about a thread by liking my last reply to it or sending me an IM, but I will be really annoyed if you remind me more than once or twice within a month.

If I don’t like the post, I didn’t see it. Please tell me about it.

I’m a part time college student with shit mental health and confidence issues. I can be slow as hell some days and fast as fuck on others.

Once a thread is longer than two paragraphs (medium sized), it sometimes takes me 948728923660700 years to gain motivation for it. It will literally exhaust the hell out of me, but I am not against longer threads, in fact, I totally encourage them. It just takes me way longer to gather muse, time, and motivation to respond to them. If we have a longer thread together, I expect you to be patient as hell. Obviously, I will not mind waiting forever for your reply either.

I'm not going to bother with a million poorly slapped together ships for the sake of the muses involved "being cute" together. Most ships will need to be plotted, yes, even canon ships like Louis/Clementine and Violet/Clementine. My muse is not going to like yours without special circumstances and an extra push from me, especially since Clementine is demiromantic and demisexual.

I almost always answer asks in the form of a starter (questions are the common exception). Don't feel obligated to continue every ask I respond to.

Please, for the love of god, like a starter or ask response if I post it for you. I hate not knowing if you saw it or not. I will send it to you if you haven’t liked it within a few days of being active.

I have discord if for whatever reason mutuals want to speak to me outside of tumblr’s IM system - I also RP on discord - it's for mutuals only and you must let me know who you are beforehand.

[mittensmorgul]

Today’s entire TNT loop in one post, because I’m tired and there’s only three episodes:

3.14, Long Distance Call. This is what happens when you mess with the phone company, dillweed!

I've written a bunch in the past about how this episode relates to communication and keeping secrets, which is still relevant:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/159234156395/314-lies-and-secrets-and-its-deans-turn-to

and

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/171381786235/not-meta-just-interesting-im-rewatching-314

But because the voice on the phone when Dean starts getting Calls From The Beyond (which aren't from the beyond but a manipulation by a creature who wants to lure Dean in to eat his soul) is John, providing words of comfort, encouragement, and instruction to Dean at a time where he feels like he's running out of time and options, Dean is led down a completely wrong path. "John" tells him he can get out of his deal and save himself from Hell by trapping a specific demon, but of course it's just the crocatta luring him to his death (but of course Dean figures that out before that can happen).

But Sam, meanwhile, THINKS he's told Dean what the monster actually is, but that information never reached Dean, leaving him confronting the crocatta by himself... RIP Stewie. Sam calls Dean and gets his voicemail (This is Herman Munster, leave a message), but his whole previous call with Dean wasn't even really a call with Dean...

SAM: What are you doing? CLARK: I'm killing your brother. Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes.

and most terrifying:

CLARK: Well once I made you two as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked. SAM: Dean's not going to fall for this. He's not going to kill that guy. CLARK: Then the guy kills him.

The crocatta was a monster who preyed on human communication, twisting words to his own benefit and manipulating people into believing what he needed to lure them to him. He had Dean convinced killing this innocent man would save him from Hell, but the other man was convinced that Dean was the man who'd killed his own daughter. It was all a distraction to keep Dean from learning what was really going on-- that Sam had effectively figured out what the monster was, and that it was the monster luring Sam to his lair, using Stewie as bait.

At the end of the story, everyone lost. Dean lost hope that they'd find a way to save him from Hell. Which drives Sam to pull a bit of a manipulation of his own...

in 3.15, Time Is On My Side.

This is Sam's last stand, his last hope to save Dean. Not by defeating the demon that holds his contract, but by gaming the system. His logic-- if Dean's can't die, he can't go to Hell. But the way Sam wants to make Dean immortal is... horrific at best. And something tells me the hellhounds wouldn't care if someone scienced their physical body into effective immortality, and would've collected Dean's soul anyway. But Sam needed to believe in something, as is his wont. When he loses hope, he loses it hard. Look at mid s13 for a reminder of that, specifically in an episode with a heavy thematic and tonal comparison to this one-- 13.11 Breakdown.

Meanwhile, Dean goes in a different direction, getting a lead on Bela and hoping to get the Colt back:

DEAN: You're not helping! You forget that if I welch on this deal, you die. Guess what, living forever is welching. SAM: Fine! Then, whatever the magic pill is, I'll take it too! DEAN: Oh, what is this? Sid and Nancy? No. It's just like Bobby's been saying. We kill the demon who owns the contract and this whole damn thing wipes clean. That's our best shot. SAM: Even if you had the Colt, Dean, who are you gonna shoot? We have no idea who holds the ticket. DEAN: Well, I'll shoot the hellhounds then before they slash me up. Now, you coming or not?

Sam decided... not. He stayed to try and figure out Benton's immortality formula. He does find it, but Dean doesn't want to live like that:

SAM: Dean, don't you want to live? DEAN: What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple. SAM: Simple? DEAN: To me it is, okay. Black or white; human, not human. (DEAN walks back to stand in front of DOC BENTON) See, what the Doc is is a freakin' monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell.

Well, heck, we know Dean doesn't really see anything as "black and white," and the real issue isn't "human or not human" anymore. But he does have a line he will not cross, and whatever Benton is is way too far across that line for Dean. And thank heck... Preserving life at all costs that way? At the cost of his own essential humanity? Yeah, that's horrific.

We meet Rufus, who eventually does provide Dean the lead to find Bela, but he also echoes Dean's attitude we've seen over and over again:

RUFUS: I know ain't no peashooter gonna save you. DEAN: What makes you so sure? RUFUS: Cause that's the job, kid. Even if you manage to scrape out of this one, there's just gonna be something else down the road. Folks like us...there ain't no happy ending. We all got it coming. DEAN: Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine? RUFUS: I'm what you've got to look forward to if you survive. (Smirking and raising his glass again) But you won't.

Survive this round, just wait for the next one, because there's always a next one... Thanks, Rufus!

But of course Bela doesn't have the Colt anymore. Dean does learn that she sold her soul and her deal is about to come due. She's in the same boat he's been in all along...

DEAN: Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal, our gun for your soul? BELA: Yes. DEAN: But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing. BELA: They changed the deal. They wanted me to kill Sam. DEAN: Really! Wow, demons untrustworthy. Shocker.

Because no matter what, the demons were NEVER going to let Dean out of his deal. No matter how many demons they killed, no matter who they bargained with, no matter what, they needed him to die and go to Hell to fulfil their prophecy and break the first seal on the Apocalypse. And that's what s3 boiled down to in the end...

This was the long con that s4 would do to freaking perfection, but s3, with all it's structural deficiencies for having been 6 episodes shortened because of the writer's strike, manages the same...

So that brings us to 3.16, No Rest for the Wicked.

The one where they think they finally gained the upper hand on catching the Big Bad Demon who holds Dean's contract, and don't yet know the entire setup was a trap laid just for them. The fact the payoff on this information doesn't come until the end of s4, with other little hints along the way-- like Dean learning what Sam's been up to while he was in Hell, like learning about angels and the breaking seals of the apocalypse, like being given the runaround as heaven and hell both use Sam's desire to get revenge on Lilith for perceived wrongs against them and is willing to turn himself into a monster to achieve that end... when all along it was exactly what the angels and demons both wanted them to do...

S4 will become the template for Cosmic Manipulation of the Winchesters as part of the Grand Story of the Universe. But all the seeds for it were already planted in s3.

Well, except for Cas. He's the wild card, and isn't that the wildest thing ever?

I wonder how Chuck accounted for him? Bring on Team Free Will, breaking Chuck's story again and again until they'll finally force him to drop the curtain in 14.20...

ETA, because I always do this... I’ve written some about Ruby’s manipulation before, like in this post from May 2018, after the s13 finale aired:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/174230167715/since-your-anons-are-on-the-subject-there-is

SAM: And you decided to tell me this just now? RUBY: Um... demon. Manipulative's kinda in the job description. Fact is, is that you would have never considered it. Not until you were – SAM: Desperate enough?

and when Sam has doubts, and he’s so close to wanting to trust Ruby out of desperation?

DEAN: Don't you see a pattern here? Dad's deal, my deal, now this? I mean every time one of us is – is – is up the creek the other is begging to sell their soul. That's all this is, man. Ruby's just jerking your chain down the road. You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going.

And yep, that’s exactly it. The Winchester Family Sacrifice-Go-Round. All in the name of keeping Chuck entertained.

ETA FOR THE SECOND TIME: Lilith. Pretending to be a seriously twisted little girl, controlling this entire family for her own horrific idea of “fun.” Kinda similar to Chuck’s own MO, always playing a persona-- Chuck the trashy novel author, Chuck the prophet of the lord who doesn’t want to be, Chuck the super cute guy who was delightfully enamored by humanity enough to want to be human himself, at least for a little while... But all of it is part of his own incredibly long game, thinking he’s got the Winchesters exactly where he wants them, being on the scene to watch his plan play out, only for it to all go sideways.

ugh and yet another ETA: Dean, only when he is very close to death, a side effect of that is that he can literally see things he wasn’t able to before:

DEAN: I could see its face. Its real face under that one. SAM: So what, now you're seeing demons? DEAN: I've seen all kinds of things lately but... nothing like this. BOBBY: Actually it's not all that crazy. DEAN: How's it not that crazy? BOBBY: Well you've got, just over five hours to go? You're piercing the veil, Dean. You're glimpsing the B side. DEAN: A little less new age-y please. BOBBY: You're almost hell's bitch. So, you can see hell's other bitches. 

What a strange way to finally see through the illusions to the truth, you know? Dean got all the way through Chuck’s endless parade of misery in s14-- losing hope against Michael only to lose hope for Jack, and himself-- to that final moment where he was able to glimpse the B side, as it were.

ugh again... this is what I get for posting stuff before the episode is over...

How close to killing an innocent little girl did Sam come here? While her own mother begged him to do it, because as far as they knew, the girl was still possessed. But Dean saw the truth, the demon was gone.

Sam’s ready to do whatever “Ruby” wants him to to save Dean, but it’s already too late. Ruby isn’t even Ruby anymore. Dean hadn’t noticed the switch until it was too late, again. Always too late. All part of the long manipulation.

[holydepths-blog]

✩ watergate :3

this took too fucking long

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? i feel like emma cos she’s more angry dramatic and he’s more emo dramatic but i was also gonna say he probably should to accomodate for his heightWho threatens to leave but never actually does? neither of them, they’ve both left one another repeatedly. Who actually keeps their word and leaves? both of them, see above. Who trashes the house? i don’t think either of them … i can’t see him ever doing it but if he did she would kick his ass things need to be NEAT Do either of them get physical? basement gate tease ! but no … it’s soft ….  that’s been erased from my memory … they’re emo not violent  How often do they argue/disagree? all the time but about #dumb shit nowadays … used to be more serious but now? you like chocolate ice cream better? … idiot  Who is the first to apologise? if they had a penny for every time mickey has apologised to her both of them could quit their low salary jobs and move to france 

Sex:

Who is on top? bold of u to assume they aren’t both switches Who is on the bottom? ^Who has the strangest desires? Any kinks? mind ur fucking business … snuggling is a kink Who’s dominant in bed? i don’t think dominant has ever been in either of their vocabulary where’s the john mulaney gif abt soup in the lap … regaurdless … probably he has to be she’s babyIs head ever in the equation? she suck the dick for free and mickey is a good boy, he knows how to go down on a womf If so, who is better at performing it? i don’t know how sex works is it easier to eat thrussy or suck a dick … they both try the only thing that matters is that once he said she was better at sex than [ redacted ] Ever had sex in public? private public … like not dressing room public but like, romantic lookout in a car public … hope no coppers come 2 shine their flashlight Who moans the most? idk if this is my sexism or my lesbian but women should, legally, be required to moan more than menWho leaves the most marks? he better swallow his masculinity and get used to concealer but i feel like that wld not be an issue for him, king ! he can’t borrow hers though it won’t match Who screams the loudest? WHO YELLSWho is the more experienced of the two? mickey. fucking duh. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? they make love :3Rough or soft? soft … unlike his penis How long do they usually last? haha 8 seconds joe goldberg tease? idk how long sex even lasts in general …. solidly average is my guess Is protection used? he better wrap it before he taps it my girl cannot afford plan b . so yesDoes it ever get boring? not …. boring but ….. consistent. when emma gets too drunk she asks odette for sex advice bc she doesn’t want to bore ickey Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? nowhere is strange if ur brave enough.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? …. yes ….If so, how many children do your muses want/have? she wants 27 children actually but literally anything from 1-30 will suffice …. they need a lot of help on his inevitable farm Who is the favorite parent? mickey is the fun parent so u already know who it is Who is the authoritative parent? REMEMBER the clip i sent u from the marky mark movie … she’s always the bad guy until he gets #fedup and he has to remind her that she’s not doing it this time AJSDKF Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? honeslty both of them unless emma hoards all the candy … selfish  Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? both of them they make fucking SIGNS …. its a little league game u dont need to paint the football stripes on ur faceWho goes to parent teacher interviews? they both go but mickey is better at them because emma always goes into teacher mode and tries to talk about Who changes the diapers? mickey does he’s a NURSE he is not grossed out , she is . baby poop is rank Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? where tf is that gifset from prison break when u need it … she does but only because she hates diapers and it’s only fair to pop a tiddie out every night for ur kid in exchangeWho spends the most time with the children? ummmm FAMILY FUN NIGHT x Who packs their lunch boxes?Who gives their children ‘the talk’? mickey he is obligated as a medical professional she don’t teach sex ed …. Who cleans up after the kids? emma but only because she’s a neat freak Who worries the most? both of them try to pretend they’re VERY cool and nonchalant and this is actually very easy until one of them cracks (probably her) and they both worry together constantly . solidarity babey ! ….. moreso her tho u cannot change my mind Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? auntie odette change my mind we said FUCK watergate lives , emdette rise 

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? both of them …. constntly …. disgusting Who is the little spoon? [ jake peralta vc ] everyone likes to be the little spoon, it makes them feel safe ! LOOK HERE buddy …. he is and i dont take questions , even when he was 10 ft Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? can he fucking keep his hands AWF …. thats coming from me not emma she appreciates it Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? both of them …. its CONSTANT … hand on the shoulder , touching someone’s back as u walk past …. SOFT ! n then the one gif  u sent from superstore where amy slaps jonah’s ass that’s emma How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?  they actually fall asleep cuddling and wake up complaining abt falling asleep in a uncomfortable position… shut up abt ur back pain ur not 80 Who gives the most kisses? KISS kisses …. he. but know … she’s always kissing him on the cheek What is their favourite non-sexual activity? this is gonna sound g*y as hell but stay with me here ………. just being in the same place , even when they’re doing diff stuff . TOGETHERNESS …. vomit time Where is their favourite place to cuddle? the couch , i retract my statement about them not being 80 they actually fall asleep watching tv Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? casually ? she … to actually initiate eye emoji ? he How often do they get time to themselves? all the time , they know 2 other people 

Sleeping:

Who snores? he does im hcing this for ur own character If both do, who snores the loudest? she doesn’t SNORE she’s a lady Do they share a bed or sleep separately? they’ve been in 200 different stages of relationship ……. OTHER than depending on that , she sleeps better w him there :3If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? they start far apart cos she’s a blanket hog but she always ends up next 2 him Who talks in their sleep? she mumbles sometimes ….. its nothing coherent What do they wear to bed? she owns 47 different stupid size xxxxxxxl shirts that were 2 bucks  from walmart and wears only that . i bet mickey owns a bathrobe, bourgeois pig … Are either of your muses insomniacs? idk she reads a chapter of whatever dumb shit she’s reading and has tea or wine and conks out ….. idk his business Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? idk abt taking them and ik its not the point but shes anal retentive abt keeping medicine in the medicine cabinet so THERE BETTER NOT BE Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? AS I SAID … they start out on opposite sides of the beg and end up more tangled than tangled (20whatever) Who wakes up with bed hair? his hair is floofy ,,,, Who wakes up first? i feel like that depends on his shifts …. she wakes up at the same damn time every week day …. weekends though she sleeps in for 10 yrs so him Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? emma tries and he has to leave bed anyway because the fire alarm goes off  What is their favourite sleeping position? she prefers it when she has all the blankets Who hogs the sheets? she does Do they set an alarm each night? they have JOBS does she look like pippa to u Can a television be found in their bedroom? yes so she can cry over dumb rom coms over somewhere other than the couch …… he’s invested in them , change my mind Who has nightmares? i already know ur about to say he does so im calling the cops on u end of story Who has ridiculous dreams? all of emma’s dreams are indistinguishable from bad acid trips Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? she sleeps in the fetal position he seems like a sprawler …..Who makes the bed? emma …. its gotta be CLEAN and if he ever says “why make it we’re just gonna sleep there again” its on SIGHT What time is bed time? whenever she passes out , always before midnight , considering they’re 72Any routines/rituals before bed? i bet they brush their teeth at the same time to see who can do it faster like they’re five year olds …. or that gifset from new girl where he’s like “ u read my walking dead fanfic ? ��Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? emma takes three cups of coffee to be able to be her CHIPPER self …. 

Work:

Who is the busiest? she has like a 6 hour work day so he for sure Who rakes in the highest income? i just googled nurses versus preschool teachers and he makes twice what she does …. laughs nervously …. glad she’s going back 2 school but elementary teachers STILL make less …. mr talbot got COIN ! Are any of your muses unemployed? no , freeloading is ILLEGAL Who takes the most sick days? i feel like the two worst jobs to go into sick are a literal hospital with immunocompromised people and a preschool with toddlers who dont wash their hands …. equal maybe Who is more likely to turn up late to work? despite her original beef with odette in the apocalypse verse emma is NEVER late to work Who sucks up to their boss? she cooks dinner , a nice LASAGNA for whoever to heat up and mickey has to break it to her that making whoever her superior is eat what tastes like glue will in fact , damage their relationship What are their jobs? hes a nursey  boy …. shes a teacher Who stresses the most? about life in general? her. about work? probably him. he’s dealing with LIVES she’s got the alphabet Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? they better they aren’t getting paid enough to hate it Are your muses financially stable? they’re not rich but they’re not dying and that’s what matters 

Home:

Who does the washing? emma because it relaxes her Who takes out the trash? he better , she does not like to  LOOK at things once they are thrown out … its smelly Who does the ironing? neither of them have ironed anything in their lives Who does the cooking? HE HAS TO IDC if he isn’t fuckign gordon ramsay she’ll kill them Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? emma Who is messier? if he leaves a single sock on the floor he is automatically messier than her Who leaves the toilet roll empty? that’s satanic neither of them Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? he does …. its just not REALISTIC that she does Who forgets to flush the toilet? that’s gross ……hopefully neither ….. DISGOSTEING.mp4Who is the prankster around the house? anything STUPID is hers and hers alone but i feel like he’d do something relatively innocent and it would go HORRIBLY wrong like , hey emma come get y’all juice ….Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? despite being organized in every other aspect of her life emma has never kept track of keys in her life its a disease Who mows the lawn? he does , he shld do it shirtless so she can objectify him Who answers the telephone? mickey, she truly stares at it hoping it’ll go away Who does the vacuuming? emmaWho does the groceries? she would make HORRIBLE decisions ,,, he shld make the list and she shld get it Who takes the longest to shower? no sexism but she’s a girl Who spends the most time in the bathroom? see above 

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? yES like … they can afford groceries , make rent , but for literally every american except jeff bezos money is a problem in some area . this isn’t a hc just a capitalist hellscape How many cars do they own? two …. neither of them are very nice cars Do they own their home or do they rent? rent unless/until he gets the farm of his dreams Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? countryside thats where FARMS are … but like rn , coast cos there’s the ocean in town Do they live in the city or in the country? see above bbgDo they enjoy their surroundings? the goats of the future and the noisy neighbors of the current and past eras both leave something to be desired , but in general yes What’s their song? not to go all modern au but remember when stereo hearts was on their 2011 mixtape AJSKDF …. issa bop and its arguably the most cutesy singable on the playlist What do they do when they’re away from each other? bitch idk ? exist as human beings ?Where did they first meet? idk she probably met him for coffee or sum before moving in together to make sure he wasn’t a serial killer How did they first meet? they were roommates … oh my god they were roommates …. she prolly put an ad in the paper very lucky she did not get murdered x Who spends the most money when out shopping? i feel like neither of them are big spenders but her sticker and colored pen budget is larger than it should be Who’s more likely to flash their assets? i thought this was talking about tits for a second but im assuming mone ? they keep it humble Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? they both do , bullying one another is a bonding experience Any mental issues? more than you know my guy Who’s terrified of bugs? if she sees a SPIDER she floors it , but she releases most other bugs …. he better kill anything w 8 legs tho Who kills the spiders around the house? mickey , as described above wow im psychic Their favourite place? they can make any place work together … gay but true , just like me Who pays the bills? she has a special binder just for taxes Do they have any fears for their future? all the fears actually Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? she cannot cook but she has 10/10 ordered takeout , put it on plates and been like :the happy version of the pensive emoji yk the one: i cooked it while the reciept is still on the counter Who uses up all of the hot water? thats very selfish she wld never but she also showers first bc she doesn’t trust him not to ….. Who’s the tallest? they , in american , are the SAME HEIGHT ,,, fuck centimeters Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?Who wanders around in their underwear? clothes are oppressive let them both do it coward Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? it probably turns into a competition until they’re both singing at the top of their lungs …. omg watergate you’re gonna burst a vocal cord oh my god they can’t hear us they have airpods in What do they tease each other about? literally everything …. one of them BREAHTES wrong and the other is like “ ah didnt realise the asthma express was in town “ Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? mickey literally dresses like the fresh prince so u already answered that for me Do they have mutual friends? can the real jack detler please stand up Who crushed first? she ……. did not immediately fall in love with him let me tell u , it took her some solid MONTHS to realise she was in deep for his bitch ass Any alcohol or substance related problems? i wld hope not , #stubie twWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? them , together , for getting kicked out of the bar for singing Who swears the most? neither ?